Grackles

 

September 29, 2024

Unusual, for me, disinclination to record or to write anything at all. I sat on the pier in morning light and stared at the sea. What can I make a poem of? What would fit into a story or a play? I didn’t care. I hadn’t taken into account the exhaustion and trauma of the last few days. I can barely move between one chair and another. But the grackles on the pier were exceptionally beautiful, and sang and gurgled in a variety of voices I hadn’t heard before. Anglers pulled elegant small silver catfish out of the water. I met SMWL, who was beautifully dressed, as she had been heading for church but decided to service a massage client instead. She is a religious theorist of some kind, and confessed her belief that Hurricane Helene was caused by a group called HAARP. She admitted it was “a conspiracy theory” but asserted it could be true nevertheless. They also caused the fires on Maui. She seeks to transition from massage therapy into real estate. She was eager to talk. I googled her, and she seems to be a person of some importance. I enjoyed her company. We were simpatico in ways impossible to explore in our brief time together.

Dinner at Jack of Cups, improbably delicious butter beans. Drink afterward at Planet Follywood. Scott was there, but he didn’t remember me. Rode the elevator with a family from Asheville, right next to UNCA. She is an alumna and thought she remembered my name. 

It’s 9:30 PM and the Army Corps of Engineers are still plowing the beach, beepers beeping. No beach access, no TV– I complained to the desk clerk and he took some small charge off my bill. At least I can flush the toilet. 

Every now and then the floor shakes beneath my chair. It’s not waves or the wind. I don’t even think it’s the bulldozers.

Listening to Purcell. Reading Wordsworth. 

I am not used to not knowing what to do.