June 29, 2014

Early coffee and writing at Starbucks. The addled Vet who haunts the place (and who seems to like me for some reason) carried on conversation with me that lasted five minutes without my understanding a single word. Then he asked for money to go across the street and buy cigarettes. I gave it to him, and he said, “I love you, dad.” I was glad I understood those words out of them all. I went to the studio and painted quite well. I’ve turned corners in my work before, but this is one of the biggest ones, and I am happy to have the brush in my hands. When I locked up the building behind me (still no one but I was there) a twenty dollar bill lay crumpled up in the dust before the door. Maybe the angels dropped it to (doubly) compensate me for the money I’d given to the Vet. After all this, a voyage to Reems Creek Nursery to fill in gaps in the garden: Bought yellow native swamp hibiscus, blue hibiscus (I hate rose-of-Sharon, but the name on the tag was “hibiscus,” so I closed one eye and loaded it in), meadow rue, ostrich fern, black-eyed Susan, blue phlox, white turtle’s head (to go with the pink I already had.) I did this all because we were promised rain, which did not come in any measure, but now they are home and I will water them dutifully until God does. My dreams were full of the sorrel (it’s sold as shamrock) in my old garden across the street. I guess this means that if it’s still there, I must dig it up and bring it over.

All the time at the studio, I kept thinking how much I miss Jason. “We will be friends forever,” said he.

Dinner at Avenue M. DJ talked about the Faith of His Fathers, while I recoiled.