September 14, 2021

Rough, peculiar night, out of which I rose unexpectedly refreshed. Went to the Y and did an excellent weight set and spent some time on the cross trainer. My energy was not yet spent, so I drove to the Parkway and hiked along the Hard Times. It had to be in the shade, as my skin still erupts at the direct touch of sunlight. My face is peeling; I must look like a leper. Some foot and bicycle traffic on the trail, but enough solitude for real spiritual renewal. I lingered at one beautiful grove and heard the prayer that I had prayed: O beautiful Spirit, let my warfare be at an end. Botanized to my heart’s delight. Wondered what made the woodsy sweet joe-pye sweet, and was the meadow version somehow bitter? Horse balm and leafcup. A hawk crying somewhere in the canopy, maybe Sweetboi’s country cousin. Met two solemn, friendly dogs. 

Sweetboi Returns

 

September 12, 2021

Betrayed DJ by sleeping during the ride back from Folly. It could not be helped. Home to a waiting throng of turkeys, and Maud planted foursquare hollering at me for being gone. She’s now glued to the desk, against my chest, head nestled in the crook of my arm, purring, which makes it hard to type but which is otherwise gratifying. Tried to do some writing. I thought I heard a noise downstairs, but I hadn’t, really, unless it was the impalpable call of an old friend. Sweetboi was standing on the pavement below the side porch, surveying what has never ceased to be his domain. 

Spent last evening watching 9-11 documentaries. Still a dagger in the heart. Would we rise to another occasion such as that, or would we stand amid the ruins blaming one another? 

 

September 10, 2021

Keeping out of the sun limits what you can do on a beach vacation. Even with sunblock slathered on, hives appear on my skin when I venture out for more than a few minutes. Therefore: sleeping, writing, and the ceaseless preparation and consumption of food that is our practice here. When we’re not eating, we read recipes and quote online menus to one another. Beautiful sea moving in and out, happy people driving into and out of his fringes. Began an oceanside murder mystery, longing to witness, someday, someone actually reading one of my books. 

Mindy

 

September 9, 2021

Tropical Depression Mindy brings heavy rain and lightning. Dark skies will be well for a while, as in the last two days my sunburn stopped just short of needing medical attention. 

Rain stopped as I was abroad in the town. Luckily I had my old yellow raincoat, which was hot but protective. 

Seeing that it had a pathetic little library, I left a copy of Necklaces at Planet Follywood. Someone may read it someday, even in a drunken fog.

Startling aggressiveness of grackles–

Passed some barrier of unspecified depression, out again on the other side–

Evening now: regular panoply upon the sand. Parents are never more sweetly attentive than when they bring their young to the shore, lovers seldom more demonstrative, with the sea and the sky as their witnesses.. 

“Sex-bugs” are everywhere, fragile little puffs connected at the base of the thorax, apparently copulating constantly, inseparably.

 September 8, 2021

Up early in the party-ravaged condo, sea-sound through the open door. The door is so warped and off-track only two of us can open it. It must have rained during the night. Dolphins gamboling for a while in the distance. I got a severely sunburned face in what I thought was relatively little time exposed. 

Insane dreams: in one I wrote an entire play, talked about it with a director, cast it, had trouble with a cast member and found a replacement. In another I was a painter in a giant studio with many rooms and passageways. While exploring, I encountered a beautiful man (whom I seemed to know, but I can’t think now who) with whom I spent time. In the last scene he was advising me on how to improve my painting. His advice was “make it smaller.” In another I became friends with a Kardashian, especially with her little daughter who took a liking to me. I served as a kind of nanny. I accompanied the little girl to a TV talk show where the host insulted her mother, and I tried to think of something to say to the little girl to comfort her. 

The sea-sound is all the wonderful things people say it is.

Pelicans

 September 7, 2021

Clouds over the coast, close and intimate, sky and sea and shore. Our kitchen sink clogged almost first thing, and after 5 calls, a plumber showed up. My distress confirmed to me that I have a mild cleanliness fixation. I couldn’t seem to take all that filthy water in stride. People remark that my house looks like nobody actually lives there. Anyway, the problem was shrimp shells someone (not us) had put down the disposal. The plumber and his assistant were an act, the (white) plumber aggressive and demanding and the (black) assistant subservient and apparently used to being treated as though he were stupid. Perhaps he is. But before the end of the session the plumber was jolly and explaining to me (as if I had remarked on their relationship, which I had not) that they had worked together forever and Larry was used to being treated that way and realized it was a sign of affection. Larry concurred.  The plumber has been divorced for 16 years and is dating a woman much taller than himself, whom he calls “the Amazon.” He and the Amazon will be renting this very unit for New Years. Larry poured the drained sink water into my bathtub, which immediately itself clogged, and I had to summon them back from the very door of the elevator to fix that additional problem. 

Flights of pelicans come over our balcony by night, heading mostly south. Last evening a hawk stood still in the air over us, training his keen eyes on the beach.

Folly Beach

 

September 6, 2021

First day at the beach accomplished. Blasted past my step goal for the first time since the spring. Wandered downtown–such as it is–and was happy in the jostling masses, thought it must be observed that no one was wearing a mask, and the news reports today that South Carolina has the highest Covid infection rate in the country. DJ and B and I closed the evening watching Saturn ride over the dark waves, concealing and disclosing as the clouds blew. 

AGMC blows up as members quarrel over. . . something. . . whether to have a virtual concert? . . something that need not have stirred all that ire. 

Pleasure in the sound and rhythm of the sea. Could I live at the shore? Of course I could. Not this shore, though: I need a rocky coast, like NH, with tide pools filled with waving sea life.