20140809 Walking Home from R'dale via CVS

20140809 Walking Home from R'dale via CVS

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            Saturday, August 9, 2014, 6:54 PM I am walking home from Rolandale, later than I meant to be because I had various issues.  Problems.  For one thing, and this was the last of a series of problems, I went to open a new file for my walk home and the card on the Psion was full.  I had already shut everything down after other annoying problems, and had to turn it all back on again to download the files from the card so I could use the Psion.  I won't even wastte my energy describing the other problems I had and dang it, I forgot to start my watch and forgot, worryiung about the time, to go home the long way.I still haven't started my watch and I am almost to Balduck Park.  It may take me about 5 minutes to get here, ut I almos totlaly missed the 15-minute leg up to Chester and Moon. 

            I need to calm down and get centered.  After a string of hassles makes m late, I tend to get somewhat frazzled.

            The cicadas are buzzing very loudly and the icecream truck is cranking out it's little ditty that startedDisappearing.   It's not particularly hot, either (I mean from the sound of the cicadas, you'd think it was nintey degrees.)  It's actually fairly cool. 

            The sun is low in the sky as the the season turns toward winter, and I am in the shade of the trees at Baalduck, and there's a breeze. 

            There are a lot of big shiny fancy cars parked along Balduck (nd a woman in an evening gown).  There is some event over on the othe3r side of the trees, but I cannot see what it is.

            I turn off the stright route hoe to walk to CVS and look for barrettes.  I should have gone there first, rather than Jo-Anne.  I'd like to arrange my walk so that it comes out to 45 minutes, but that will be difficult, since I already messed up twice..

            I walk under a catalpa tree, following two boys with a basketball.  I suddenly feel southern. 

            The reason I would like 45 minutes but not more than that to complete myw alk before I get without keeping Keith waiting for his dinner any longer than necessary.

            I walk through a huge cloud of strong, skunk pot snoke, drifting out of one of houses behind VCS.  CVS!

            A thin black man in a car-racing cap says good evening to me, and I return the good wishes.  It's a pleasant evening, I say, and he says, it sure is, ma'am, aand I say have a good day, he he says, you do the same.  I feel bad that he called me ma'am (I didnt' call him sir.)

            I have arrived at CVS.

            I look at the Goody hairclips and barretes but find none I likel  There's a second display, equally feeble.  I leave empty hnded and disappointed.

            Now I amw alking through the bank parking .ot with the goal of extending my walk bu crossing Mack and walking down one of the side streets and then around.  BUt if the wrong side street, it might shorter rather than longer.  I've only walked 23 minutes, according to my watch.  Of course, I forgot to turn it on, probably for 5 minutes, but that's still only 28.

            There are some bushes in flower here that are related to hibiscus, but I forget their name.  I hate forgetting things. 

            I am at the corner of Webster and Tourraine. 

            Not streets I know well.

            I think I am coming out by the Christian Science Church, which will take me maybe ten minutes to get home (once I get there.)  That may be good enough.  Or close to it.

            I've passed a number of gardens filled with achiacea and sweet pears and roses and black-eyed susans.  Hostas, too.

            No, I'm not at the Christina Science Church, but at Richard.  I mean Brownell.  Which is not as good, closer too home.  Well I'll head home and see how I do. 

            What I really wanted to do is spend my walking time working on my novel, or some other way doing something useful, but I'm stymied agin. 

            I hate talking about how long it will take me to get home and other meaningless things when I could be doing something useful, but now I am at the 67 and a half minute mark, approximately.  I've walked 32 minutes, so that would be about 39 1/2 minutes when I et home and if I add 5 for the time the watch was off, I'll be 30 seconds short of my 45 minutes.  Of course, I don't know if it was excatly 5 minutes that I missed.  Oh well, I can't believe it matters that much, I walked up and down the stair at both houses and out to the garden and so on, probably good enough.  I'd walk further, so I knew for sure, if I wasn't worried about getting dinner started.

            I see two people walking by, a mna and a woman, and I think about the novel i thought I might work on in November.  I am thinking of cannabalism, of what would happen in peacable neighborhood if there was some catastrophe and people were starving.  They might kill each other to steal their food or even to eat each other, if they were desperate enough.  Our being old and somewhat enfeebled (compared to young people) is a disadvantage.  I do not know if aresenal would be of of any use protecting ourselves. 

            Maybe I am walking slowly, but I have now walked almost 400 minutes.

            Nowember is creeping up fats and I've done almost no work on my outline for my novel.

            Sunday, August 10, 2014, 5:58 PM i am walking home from Rolandale again.  I just did  avery dumb thing.  I asked keith to drive me to R'dale and was going to a little cleaning and a little work around the house and maybe a little writing. 

            He waited for me to go up the driveway, close the gate and disappear before he frove away, and I reached for y keys and they weren't there.  I ran after him yelling, wait, stop, but I guess he couldn't hear me.  He had the radio on.  I didn't have my keys because I didn't load my powets, duh.  So now I am walking home.  If I decide to go back to R'dale, I will load my pockets and drive my own car.  Not because is his fault or anything, it clearly isn'tl it's my fault.  But I couldn't drive my car without my keys.

            So hear I am, at least remembering to go home the long way.  I'm walking home again and have 40 minutes at my disposal to work on my novel.  Or on any useful project.  I'd prefer to work on my novel  But I ned to figure what's going to happen. 

            Oddly, the one thing DO have in my pocket is my cell phone.  That's because I'd intended to pyt it on the charger, but forgot.

            We stayed in bed late, had a late breakfast, a very late lunch, and I guess we'll be having a late dinner.  I worked on removing the gutter form one of the paintings I did for the book I am making for Frankie, Frankiue and Noh have a party. I was hoping to finish the book and have it in hand when Frankie comes to visit, perhaps on the 23, but it seems unlikely that I will be able to manage it.  The problem is, it's in less than two weeks, and they probably need a week at least to get it ready and mail it, which gives me less than a week to completely finish it, which, with everything I have to do, seems unlikely. 

            There are two sets of things I have to do, no more than two, really.  I have to get all tha art ready, I have to get all the text (poems) ready, and I have to do the layout.  I have to evaluate how many pintining remain to be done, and make a decision whether to even try.  I have to remove the gutter from the picture sthat were donen over two pages.  This is slow tedious work.  And some of the poems need to be written or revisedm  A further problem, wich I cannot deal with now, is that Frankie is wearing smething differnt in every picture.  If or when I send it to a publisher agent, or put it on one of the book things where you can sell your own books, I probbaly have to have Frankie wearing the same thing i every picture except maybe thhe last one (PJs)  But that I do not have to worry about now. 

            That's quite an undertaking.  It would be quite an undertaking even if I had nothing else to do.  But I do.  One of the reasons I wanted to go to Rolandle was to clean for compnay.  So, I have that to do, at two houses, both of which are bad. 

            And ML wants me to drive up to get her and take her to her house to "poke around."  That will essentially be a whole day gone.  She wants to do it this week, which will take time from my prep for getting the book ready.  But if we waited and did it next week, that is, the week S and E may be arriving, I'll be in a frenzy trying to get ready for them. 

            After they leave, we have to get ready for Sarah and Steve arriving on September 10.

            None of that would be that big a deal if we were more natirally tidy.

            We're not..

            I hope when I get home, Keith hasn't gone out for a bike ride and locked the house!

            I suppose I could try to call him.

            SO, the first thing I need to when I get home is evaluate what remains to be done on the book.  That is, Frankie and Noah have a party.  Then talk to ML about when she wants me to take her to to her house.  The ideal time for me would be on the cusp between finishing the and orderiing the book, if that's feasible, and the frenzy of prep.  THere may be some overlap there.

            To further complicate things, I'd like to take Athina to Cranbrook before she leaves for college, if she is leaving for college. 

            I am walking along Balduck park and there are parties, picnics and ballgames going on and cars with hurtfully loud music bass thundering so loud it thrums in my chest and it's icky.

            I will be glad to get away

            SO OK, step one, look at the stroyboard for Frankie nd  Noah have a aprty and determine if I am going to attempt that or not, step 2, call ML. 

            Sara and Frankie and Erin may not even be coming.  But I hope they are coming. 

            Also I want to write Marie Rivet and tell her to stay two nights so we'd have at least a day to show her around Detroit.

            'm feeling reluctant to call Keith warn him I'm on my way home and please don't lock the doors.  The reason I am reluctant is because we give Graham such shit bout forgetting his keys and I would prefer not to put myself in the position if being as careless and forgetful as Graham seems tto be.  On the other hand, if I get hhome and I'm locked out, that could be a serious problem if no one comes home for a while.

            I am out of Detroit and into GPFs.  I am relieved to be away from the loud music and the kids riding and running in the raod and cars zooming close to them.  Here it is quieter and that's OK with me.  The kids walk on the sidewalk and the drivers are generally more caustious and considerate.  Generally.  There are nice people in Detroit proper and idiots in GPFs. 

            Other differences: almost no trash here and the houses and yards are kept up better and there are no boarded houses, at last on the streets I normally wak on.  The area is more affluent. less povery.  The black people who move in here mostly behave more quietly. 

            I hate to say this, but I have to use the bathroom, and I sure hope Keith is home and the door is unlocked.

            If Keith is not home--duh--I was thinking I'd drive back to Rolandale, but I can neither drive nor get in the house without my keys, duh!  His car is here, but he may have gone out on his bike.

            Monday, August 11, 2014,8:19 PM  I am out walking.  It rained hard all day and has just stopped, but the trees re dripping and the sidewalks are flooded.  I do not know if it's a lull or if it will say stopped long enough to walk.  The light is funny, kind of greenish, and air is full of fluttering bugs, some kind of ephermera petera, maybe.  It's getting greener and greener.  aand yellower. 

            I am wearing a raincoat and my widest brimmed lat, a felt hat  acott gavce me.  I was walking on the sidewalks, but they are so flooded I have moved to the streets.  Someone is coming down the street twoard me, so I step int the grass and water squelches into my choes.

            I read an article in the Times that running as little as 5 minutes a day could extend your life 3 year (plus hopefully improve the qulaity of it.) so I have a new goal of running 5 minutes a day as part of my 45 minutes.  My funning isn't very fast, but if I keep at it it may get faaster.

            It's drizzling anbd getting dark. 

            Tuesday, August 12, 2014, 8:21 PM, I am walking home from R'dale the long way.  Like I did yesterday, or, I guess that was the dsay before, but who's counting.  It's been rining again.  Thunder, lightning, downpour.  The tech center was closed, Keith was late to work becase of flooding and stalled cars blocking the road and then had to work late and the tech center may be closed also tomorrow when the shit hits the fan, and he may have to work late again and I have to take ML to her eye doctor and to her house and then I have my writing group/class at Ewald. 

            I am feeling agitated and probably will not be able to sleep.  I mean, I haven't been sleeping for the last couple nights, anyway, and I wasn't even agitated.  I'm upset with myself because I have too much to do and not enough time.  It would help if I slept at night, bit a lot of the fault is my own.  Like wanting to get Frankie's book done to have it for him when he coes.  That's probably a stupid goal and not really doable. 

            I need to order birthday gifts for the other grandkids and water the plants at R'dale and clean both houses for company and  and and and.

            Last night, when I couldn't sleep, I was up pinting the lastest picture for Frankie and Noah ahbe a party.  Tonight, at dinner, I apinted just a little bit more of it.  But then I went up and started walking on Disocvery at Little Hog Island which I want to bring to class tomorrow night.  Chapter 2.

            What I'd like to do right now is work on TUB, Taming Uncle Beast, but I have't figured out what's happening next yet.

            I walk through a cloud of marijuana smoke at the corner of Rolandale and Canyon.

            Rhe crickets are singing.

            I rememnered that I wanted to run 5 minutes a day so I ran.  I had to eep pushing myself, because otheresie, I slow down to a walking apce even though I'm supoosedly fogging.  It was a little easuer than uesterdau I have the wrong shoes on. 

            I saw a firefly.  I walk past the dead birds of dead bird alley.  It's getting dark in Detrout ,, and after dark, it doesn't seem as safe as it does during the day.

            Wednesday, August 13, 2014, 1:38 PM I am at the eye doctor with ML.  They are testing her periferal vision.  She is supposed to stare at an ornage light and click a button when she sees the white lights in her periferal vision.  They turned the lights off as I was writing this and it got pitch dark in here.  Now they are doing the left eye.  She has to wear a patch on the other eye.

            Then she had an EFG vision test and then two eye pressure test.  She says, "Oh, my poor neck, it doesn't like to be shoved around.  They were forcing her neck forward. 

            2:20 PM Dr. Valise says her eyes are about the same..

            Basically what Dr. Vaise thiinks is that there has been never damage which can never be repaired or recovered.

            Thursday, August 14, 2014, 1:09 PM I am sitting in Brian Power's waiting room.  I ran out of the house thinking I was late, and didn't remember to bring him a zucchini, which we have a plethora of.  I didn't have time to shoer or do my hair or wash the breakfast dishes.  I was working on  chapter of Disappearing.  It was the one where Terry relizes she's "disappearing" while still alive and working and married to and living with Claude.  I think it needs more work still, but it is better than it was.  I think it is central to the book.  Thus the title.  Terry chooses a different way to disappear.

            What I really did, the real me, is to disappear into myself, and into my life and spend more and more time away from Pater, legitamately.

            So meanwhile bck a the ranch, it's a hurry up and wait game.  I am still waiting for bP.  He came through from outside into his offoce with cell phone in hand and lit up.

            2:20 PM, I am at Pier Park where I plan to walk for 30 minutes, then walk 15 more at home to VM, but first, if I can remember, get some sauerkraut.  I'm not sure if K is working late, he called, ut I forget what he said, or I think he called, maybe that was yesterday. 

            I should walk extra today.  I didn't walk at all yesterday, or do any exercises.

            I got an email on my cell phone while I was talking to BP.  Probably just junk, soemthing from gmail.

            I wanted to talk about Claude, Peter, Bruce, Chuck, my father, Keith, me.  But BP got off on trying to sll me on something called UMBOUND which was written up a couple days ago in the NY Ties.  I already said I'd check into it, but he kept on blabbing about, wasting my limited time.  I worked so hard on chapter 5 of Disappearing this morning, which is what I wanted to talk bot with BP.  I did read it to him and we did talk, briefly about4, before going of on a diatribee about unbound.  I think he thinks it might help me.

            I need to help myself.

            I am not saying there is no chnace that unbound will help me.  But if prople are donating money to read the work of authors, those authors better be more confident than I am about being able to produce.  A COMPLETED novel, that is.  I can produce writing, but so fat, I have failed to produce a fully completed novel.  I have some first draft novels.  I even have a tenth draft novel, Froh Haven.  But ebven that, my most nearly completed novel, needs more work. 

            I would like to keep Sissy at age 11.  I dont' really want to get into sex and romance at her age.

            So last night, I fell asleep wondering who, if anyone, killed Billy Owens in Discovery Little Hog Island, and this morning I got up and spent the enture morning working on Disappearing.  Both of those novels are somewhere around 2/3 finished in first draft.  Each of them has a sticking point.  (or more than one.)  They may actaully be half or less than half done, depending on how much has to be deleted or left out or changed.  And then there is Death Angel, which is also more than 3,4 done int he firdst draft version.  I wrote all the way to the end, but left out some of the middle.  I left out the red herrings.  I may want to restructure it anyway, but it is probably closer to being dne that the other two.  And then there is TUB, Taming Uncle Beast, which I wish I were working on right now instead of thinking ABOUT the novels.

            I think I should finish Frankie and Noah have a party, in first draft form, and get it printed in time for his birthday.

            I am sitting at the end of the long curved breakwater pier, the wind bloing my hair.  I do not want to sit long, as I have too much to do.

            It is a cool, crisp, clear fall-like day, windy and bright with scattered clouds.

            I wish I could relax.  I always feel so pressured, to go get suarekraut, to go to the store get food for dinner, to order gifts for the grandkids, sneakers for Rachel, to find adequte beds and bedding for Sara, Erin and Frankie, to clean bother houses, to get enough exercise, to get not only today's walking in, but yesterday's, to get my various projects done, eg Frankie and Noah have a Party, to investigate unbound, to finish my novels, to write a poem occasionally and send some out, ((three kids, about 9, 10 years old, motor by in an inflatable raft.  One says, pointing at an empty space near me, that's our parking place.)), I want to honor my art, my writing, prose, poetry, children's books, my husnad and our relationship, my children and grnchildren, my friend and myself.  I think I have enough love to go around, but there no longer seems to be eough time and energy.  The timelessness of youth is gone.  I feel the pressure of mortality leaning on me.  That adds another burden, the burden to lose weight and be as healthy as possible in order to have more time to accomplish some of my goals.  Being overly anxious abbout it seems counterproductive in my case, because I respond to anxiety by eating. 

            As I walk, I write a new section of Disappearing.  I sit on the observation deck and finish it.  I am happy to have written something for one of my novels, even if it isn't the one I am currently working on.

            The horizon is a black line which I'd say wwas ruler straight, but which curves of course.  It looks straight though, if stare at it in any one place.  Level. Water, at any oen place is "level," but for how far on either side is it "level?"  CB with photo?

            It's after 3.  I strain my brain to try to rmember if Keith is coming home at 3:00 or not.

            But I can’t remember.

            I wish I knew.  (Much later—he was home and we walked tot eh store together.)

            There was a sign saying the beach was closed, but there are still kids in the water.  I was going to wlak along it, thining no one would be there, theyd all be in the ool..  It'sa  coolish day.  But kids are kids and no one seems to be stopping them. 

            I feel sad to walk along the beach with shoes on  I'd like to feel the wet sand under my bare feet.   But I need to leave, sjop for food, see if Keith water the plan5ts at R'dale, work on my painting, clean.  I wish I knew if he were home or not.

            Why can't I remember what if anything was said about that.

            One of the people on me beach is a tanned attractive older teenage boy, like 18 or 19 years old, sitting right at the edge of the water, splshing and mumbling to himself.  He might be absolutley normal and just in a silly mood, or he maight be retarded.  He's very good looking but not acting like kids his age are supposed to act.  And he's alone.

            There are adults on benches and I wonder if one is his guardian or parent, or whether he's a normal kid just having a moment, for whatever reason.

            He has black curly hair, a nice smile, (but he doesn't look at me).  Autistic?  Why do I want to label him?  Because he's not acting normal, whatever that means.  I am curious.  (Nosy?)

            Back at the car, I've walked 35:44.

            Plan to walk to VM later.  When I get home.

            I alsow onder about the men in the admissios booth at PP--they all seem to be retirement age men--are they volunteering?  Getting paid?  Why do they do it?

            When I get to better helath, the road is full of parked cars.  Phew there is one spot left where I don't have to feed a meter!

            *            *            *            * EJ End Journal

            To put in chapter 5 of Disappearing, (the chapter may need to be moved though)

            **            *            *            * Disappearing

            "You should have let me go first," Claude said to Terry on the way home, so that they wouldn't compare my work to yours."

            "They always have an opening act before the main event," Terry said, reassuriny.  You know, like how Foxy loxy opens for the Grateful Dead."

            "But everyone seemed to think that you were the main event and I was an afterthought," Claude said.

            "No, no, I heard a number of people saying how visionary your work was, how it was both grounded and untethered, how it combined the best of the psychelic and shamanistic cultures."

            "I heard people saying it was mysogynistic, abusive, and cruel," Claude said.  "That's what you really think, isn't it?"

            "I really think it is both grounded and untethered, and combines the best of the psychelic and shamanistic cultures. It's deep and dreamlike . . ."

            " . . .  and macho and mysogynistic."           

            "Claude, I didnt' say that."

            "No, but you were thinking it."

            "Even you can't read minds," Terry said, very quietly.

            "What did you say?"

            "Nothing.  I said absolutely nothing.  My lips were sealed."

            Terry jerked the car to the side, almost ran into a parked car, and then jerked it back.  Terry was flung against the Claude and then against the passenger side door.  She clutched the "oh-shit handle," clamped her lips shut, and held on.  But Claude drove like a little old lady the rest of the way home.

            *            *            *            * ED end disappearing

            *            *            *            * TUB Taming Uncle Beast

            what happened last?  What's going to happen next?  Collect all bits and paste into master Ms!

            *            *            *            *