July 26, 2015

    M and A and I had some time together after they came back from dinner at Table. We watched an old Ginger Rogers vehicle, or rather that’s how it started. I looked around after a few minutes and they were both, independently, thumbing through items on their cell phones. I was effectively, if not quite actually, alone. But so were they. Company is disruptive, but it’s also good to make me vary my routine. I guess at the time when they will wake and rise, so I’ll be away and they can wind up and shower and explore their environment and plan their day without worrying about me. One such ploy got me to Starbuck’s before full light, where I wrote and watched the remarkable abundance of dogs. Instead of going home then–it was not time for them to leave for church-- I walked downtown, having it for a time practically to myself in the clearing gray light. Strolled to places that used to mean something to me, and to places that I didn’t recognize from any portion of my past. Found a place in the labyrinth of the Pack Place Parking Deck to urinate unseen. . . being, for that moment, homeless, and endowed with their resourcefulness. The crash of glass from Pack Place was a hobo upending trash cans to pick through and see what was salvageable. The smell of downtown Asheville on a Sunday morning is the sharp taint of old beer. That’s all right, for it means that people were having fun there a few hours before. A private garbage service (manned by handsome youths) came a little behind me, clearing and cleaning as they went. Bearded geezers walked in the parks. Everyone was walking a dog. Peered at my old gallery. That was a good thing, my gallery. The community should have supported me more, or at all. Many people would say I never appear to need help, and I suppose that, anyway, is my fault. If I knew once how to correct it, I don’t anymore. Big party for the travelers tonight. I have made eggplant Parmesan, a casserole, and cake. Have addressed my bills and correspondence, so to get them off the downstairs desk. Looking forward and wishing it were over simultaneously.