September 20, 2014

Late morning. Ill last night, some turbulence in my stomach. I had to rise and walk the streets at midnight, and when I got back home I vomited liberally into the weed patch between my house and the neighbors’. While we’re noting firsts, I think this is the first time I vomited into my new yard, at least a weekly event across the street.

Planted coral bells with black leaves, and spurge with green flowers, and as many hellebores as the nursery had left, opening up the hemlock-shaded patch by the mailbox. I want to get my hands on the person who thought that gravel was a good idea. It underlies huge stretches of the back and east yards, as though the house once had been surrounded by it. It’s covered by a thin layer of dirt, so you don’t know until you sink a spade.

Coffee with Tom, who has a photo of himself receiving an award from Mickey Mantle.

Studying Blake does not enhance tranquility.