Chaotic Good

 

December 11, 2021

Heron down on the lake, on a stick near shore, hunched over like an old woman complaining about the cold. 

Reading Byron, finding his impression of Valletta to be exactly the same as mine 200 years later– damn the streets that are all stairs.

Not only did Necklaces not win the Thomas Wolfe, I was not one of the five finalists invited to read at the ceremony. I misjudged that memorably. 

Coffee out of the first mug Kit ever sent me, perhaps twenty-five years ago. I knew there was carving on the side, but I took it to be free-form, or perhaps a mistake. Looked at it in propitious light this morning, and it is my name in an arch over what might be a phoenix or a tree or a crucifix or, most likely, the star shape with which I used to sign letters, back when I wrote them. . 

Read about the “Nine Alignments.” I am Chaotic Good.