Tuesday, October 03, 2006

notes from day 4 at Dodge

here are my notes from the tony Hoagland talk etc, sorry I ahven't edited them--you cna just delete them if you want.


The Poetry archive online

061001 Dodge


TheWanderingPoet2006@yahoo.com

Dickinson "Poetry is the tooth thatnibbles at the soul."

Jorie Graham "Poetry insists on going through existenceinstead of going around it."

Sunday October 1, 2006, 9:34 AM Tony Hoagland Craft talk.

Jorie Graham's brain storms fume out of the beaker of her skull. Her writing is very much a process, like throwing yourslef against the shore like a wavesover and over.

Poems have a center of gravity, poems have multiple centers of gravity around which the other elemnets of the poems arrange themselves. Jorie Graham's poems are encounters, you encounter things and then you release them.

"A poem makes a wise statement in the third stanza." TH says we have these terrible preonceived notions about poetry. Our job aspoets is to let our version of poetry evolve. Find something you can do well. Some people have atalent forimage,somepeoplehave atalent for syntax,some people have a talent for sound. TH has ametaphor talent, a hugemetaphor image claw like a crab. Start with what you're good at, develop that until you're very good at it, then add other more hard-earned skills. Don't wallow only in your first talent. Contain a poem, allow a poem to have a wild discovery, have passion and intensity (Duende), strong feeling, magnifying glass. Feel strongly, magnify that feeling. The journey of craft.

TH says Emily Dickinson says "art is a house that wants to be haunted."

TH: The poem must embody the whole psyche. A lot of poems fail because they don't embody the contrdictoryness of life and humans. I like things coming in from the side, I like contradictoriness within the poem. Complicate the narratives. Whether it is a narrative poem or not. I like for the ID to be in the poem, the angry greedy animal self, the jealosies and meanness and secret greeds. The walking around civil self. The super ego with it's principles and moral edicts. Catalyze, fume, make conflicts with each other.

TH The Birthday cake, by someone else but I didn't get who. Paul Goodman. I think.

TH The animal self and the child self need to be brought in. The vioelnce of self and the vioelence of feeling that breaks through the surface of the poem and thrashes around. I'm not convinved by all good manner in a poem. A moment of joy, pain, or sorrow. etc.

TH Compare what you are like walking around and talking to your friends. Some of that energy should bein the poem. Poems will always fall short of the full spectrum, but should contain avarietyof experience. Build the dialectical energy of the poem, the differnet energies of the self talking to each other and conflicting with each other.

TH A lot of the dialectical energy of the poem exists in nouns. The turtle with it's plastic palm, the condom and . . . (I keep missing things.) The poem is a snow glob and cannot contain toomany things, but the things it does contain should be disparate in some way. Adjectives have a dialectical energy. rhetorical energy. A pem is a little archtectural contruct. Itneeds a topography.

TH A Rotweiler with a bungee cord. A nuclear device in a border bag. 4 or five conflicting adjectives with dialectal angular energy. They don't have to stay in a smooth arc. Filthy beautiful heterosexual shimmering Posaic River. Add An exclamation. Oh miserableme,ahthat I wouldnever have seent he sun com eup that day. Never again will I seea day like that, never again will I walkalong thatriver,never again will I .. . Collages.

TH Joining together associative disorder andmaking them work as apoem.

TH The only difference between a rut and a grave is a matter of depth. You don't want to write the same poems all your life. Look for greater ambitiousness. Get serious.

TH You work repeatedly falls behind your life. Don't stick with the old news.

TH: I'm in danger of being too cautious, where did Eros go in my life that once was so strong, why are feelings so muddy? What are your current issues? I wanted to have one true moment in each poem. How to advance? ONE INch at a time.

TH quoting Lorca: They fuck you up, your Mom and Dad, they do not mean to but they do,

TH I want things to appropriate me, I don't want to appropriate things!

TH Lou Welch, pretty good beat poet. Draw a circle 100 feet in diamaeter and in that circle are a thousand things that no one has ever looked at. Look hard, locate those moments. TH We are the physicists of experience. Particularity, precision, attentivenes. Gerald Stern's poems leap around like a cricket on a fryiing pan. (he says this admiringly.)

TH A poem cannot be chaos either,it has to happenin stages. For Grace after a party by

accusation, rhetorical moment.

TH Memorize poems to internalize muscular movements. Don't eat junkfood, eat brilliant poemtry, they turninto us.

(junk in junk out.)

You're always being pulled apart. Bring in an unidentified moment. Open sewer systems of thoughts and constructs. Most of what's in the river is garbage. Poets have more ADD than most of us. Pay attention to the river and every once in awhile, one of the crazy persons in your head says or sees something interesting. The seeds of poems.

Dialectical energy, close attendnace, looking, adequate intensity.

TH Exploration of content, adventure in content and technique.. The snowman by wallace Stevens one long sentence. It grows a muscle and augments your poetry. Analyzing porty with friends helps. Helps you learn and teach yourslef. Analysis,give it your attention, it enters you. Studying technique helps you grow. But some people over value technique. It's not all technique,you have to perform openheart surgery on yourself on the wing of a biplane with one engine failing. You need both duende and technique.

We have different kinds of talents and also different degrees of talent, but stubornness is a big help. The three levels of the self and the poem is a forum that integrates them

TH John Ashburg: "Everything you know is wrong." And then from there you can write. You can open. It's not about showing how smart you are or what a good writer you are.
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Detours

This is the totally unedited unrevised crappy version

                Monday, October 2 2006, 2:34 PM 

Detours

                I am trying to be as efficinet as possible because I have so few days left before Keith gets here and I was hoping to move when he came.  And I have an MRI and doctor appointsand Ted Kooser Poet Laureate and Annie Pennisi's wedding.

                I also only walked once in the last 4 days and that was Thursday (no Friday?) and I'm supposed to walk every day.  And it's a beautiful day, and supposed to getcold andrain coming up.  so I took a break fromworkingoncleaning sorting and packing to take a walkwhile while the sun was still out.  I could have used thatsame excuse to go visit my Mother, but Great Bear was closer, so I came here.

                Normally it takes 11-12 minutes to getto Great Bear from home.  I was tooling happily along (if you can call crying wildly "tooling happily along," but that's another story) when suddenly the car ahead of me slowed and there has a trucked parked blocking the road and person ina  reflective vest pointing down some tiny side street.  The car ahead of me went and I followed.  Since I had turned left (west) and was headed north, I turned right at firstroad, whichcut back nicely atangle toward 57 (headed north east,which Iway Ineeded to go.)

                But the road ended on another road whichended on another road and after a while I foundmyself in Hinmansville.  This wasgood, I thought, because a road from Hinmansville endsup at Great Bear.  I crossed the one lane Hinmansville bridge.  Everything seemed familiar butsomehow wrong.  I drove out the road "toward 57" (or where I thought 57 should be), andencountered a second detour where they wereworking on wires and had the road blocked off.  but I did not see Hawthorne taking off at an angle to the right.  This was my first clue something was  wrong but I kept on going and came outto a busy raod which I thought was 57.  It didn't look right, but I thought I'd justmissed Hawethorne and that it seemed unfamiliar because Inever gos traight on 46.  I don't know that corner.  I turned left and drove until I saw a sign saying 48.  Now I had asudden bout of confusions anddisorientation and remembered that only a fewnights ago, Debbie and I had been shunted off 80 east on out way back to the hotel and had subsequently driven around for over an hour before wemanaged to find our way backwith the help of a friendly gas stationa attendant.  I pulled over (after driving a ways before I could find aplace to pull over) and studied my map--but themaps,noneofthem, showed the roads I was on!

                I thought that Iwas driving south twoard Baldwinsville,but itnever occurred to meto look at the sun.  Itwas sunny.  But mytheory was I had crossed the Hinmansville bridge in thewrong direction.

                This defied logic, because of the river.  How could I have gotten onto the wrong side of the river? 57 is on the east sideof the river andthat was where Iwanted tobe, but 48 is onthewest side ofthe river.  I turned around and retraced my path back around detorur number 2, back across the Hinmansville bridge in the other direction and drovelonger than it seemed I should have, but there was Hawethorne and there was Great Bear!

                I'd like to see a map ofthe area to see how that could have been passible,to try and retrace my route.  But I believe mymaps of Oswego county are in Detroit!

                I think that 3 or 4 detours in 3 or 4 days.  If thata dream instead  "reality", I would ask myself what my subsconscious was trying to tell me.

                The symbolismis pretty obvious.  I'm taking too manydetours. I'mbeing slowedby detours in getting where I'm going.

                Thenext question is,wheream I going (or trying to go? [clearly not thesamequestion])?  Here are some answers:

•           I am trying toget toKeith and Graham.

•           I am trying to getmoved to Detroit

•           I am trying to getout of the house

•           Iam trying to express my creativity'

•           Iam trying write and publishnovels

•           I am trying to publish a poetry book

•           I amtrying to get to a place where I can make a difference in the world.

                Meanwhile, Iamwalking along tje riverwith camera gear slung around myshoulders and I see somemovementin the grass, something large and dun-colored (deer?) so I look thatway and immediately look away again but I've already seen a naked couple engaged inoral sex.  The man is moving his head up and down over the woman's spread legs but the woman has seen orheard me and lifts her head toward me.  I look carefully toward theriver asIwalk.

                Earlier, I had stopped to pee in the bushes and a couple walked by just as I was peeing, talking loudly,and I betit was them.  I'msorry I disturbed their privacy,but I didn'tknow they were there.  I'm certain it setthewoman back in her orgasming.  But surely theymust know other people walk here. They were right next to the trail.  Onetime atclark Iencountered someonedoing that in the center of thetrail,andclarkismorewell-used that Great Bear. Didtheywant to be discovered,or were theysimply not thinking?

                THis diturnedmystory,my littlepersonal essay on Detour.  A detour of sorts from my story of detours.

                It occurred tome that Detours is"who Iam" inasense. I'm a Gemini with multiplepeople living isnide me, and I have ADHD, meaning I am easily distracted.  Distractions are detorurs, are they not?

                I've been on the other end of that sex and the woods encounter more than once.  I harbor them no ill will. But it was, I'm afraid, unfortunately disturbing to both parties.

                The fact that Iw as carryingcameras is alsodisturbing, although of course, I did't point them toward the naked couple.  It remindsmeof thetimeKeith and I,carrying manycameras, walked fully clad down anude beach. We didn't know it was a nude beach, but felt very conspicuousand foolish.

                There wereseveral carsparked atthe trailheader when I came,surely theymust aware howmany people walkhere.  NO?

                I'venamed some places I'm trying to get.  Soemare physical, some are social some are creative, someareethereal. Ihadn't finsihed mylist though.  Iwas also going to name,among other thinngs:

•           I want to get to a place of healing,a healed and whole place within myself (emotionally,mentally

•           and aphysically healthy place as well, to be and behave as a honorable, honest,open loving human being.

                Of coursethere's more, but the detourpast sexuality (a big detourinmyownlife aswell) has made me lose track of my thoughts. 

                I can't go to all of those places at once.  Some I can do together and some I must do serially if Ilive long enough.  I'd liketo live a longtime, because I ahve so much to do:

•           I want to mother Graham and see himgrown

•           I want to partner Keith and enjoy his company

•           I wantto see myfuturegrandchildren

•           I want to writeandpublish books

•           I want to do art

•           I want to get to a spiritual place where I am spiritually whole and physically, mentally and emotionally healed

                Of course, these are parraellesorredundanciesof where I want to go in asnse (same thing)

                So, then,the next question toask,ifthise werea dream is, what road-blocks and detours am I providing myself?  (and why?)

                (Iwonder if those people checked for poison iny, which is rampant here,beforetheylay down.  What is the right tenseoflay?)

                There are physical, mental emotional and spiritual roadbloack to each of those goal "destiantions."

•           an obvious physical roadblockto themove is the house, and themess in the house and the accumulated junk andmyinabilityto deal with it.  There were physcalmentalemotionaland spiritualreasons for the junk's being there in thefirst.  I have serious shortcomings (otherwise known as faults!) in the departmentof organization and "hoarding" (OCD) and concentration and will toward cleaning.  I've never been neat my whole life.  I've been sick for years with seriousasthma, fibromyalgia, sleep apnea, tiredness, insomnia etc.  Myexcess weightaffects the fibromylagia which in turn affects the weight and the twoofthemaffectmyphysicaland emotionalenergy levels.  If I couldeat less (a lot less) maybeI'd lose weight, but I have a genetic component, myparents were both overweight as wasmy paternalgrandmother,my aunt andotherreltives.  Of coursestudies alsoshowthatrape and abuse victims tend to gainweight too.  None of these arean "excuse" inasense, but I seem to have clearlyfailed to getpast them.

•           I amnot all thateager to go to Detroit.

•           and while Iwant to be withmy husband and so,there are issues there as well, with rape, abuse, and so much of Susan's stuff still in the house.  It doesn't feel like MY house at all.  I don't think to myself, oh, I'm not going to clean because I'mafraid of Keith abusing me or because Susan's retainer and make up is still in the bathroom cupboard.  But it doesn't ENCOURAGE me to bite the bullet either.

                Well, of course I had more to say, but now I am back to the car and need to go home and do some more work.  I think I will take Hawthorne, Pendergast, River Road etc, and I hope I don't meet anymore DETOURS.

                I walked more than 49 minutes (maybe 52?)

                And I didn'tevenmention the bridge repair.

                4:08 PM Home in the driveway

It was a movement, dun and slow and still and quick and jerky

as an injured squirel, an unexplained shape in the grass

and trees beside the river in the October sun too large

and low and smooth to be a deer, and moving oddly so I looked

and quick away because then I knew.  The softly opened legs,

the head between them, the other head lifting toward me

as I turned to suddenly study the river, the way the yellow leaves

swirled, the way the far shore was a wash of yellow reflected

from the trees.  I saw no breasts, no penis, not even a butt, really,

not that I can bring to mind, no vagina visible, no porn, only

that odd-moving head.  Only the dun color, the soft spread legs

and the head rising toward me.  No eyes, but I wonder

as I try to arrange myself around this double intrusion,

if those eyes were like the deer I first imagines, wide and dark

and startled, or like the coyote who paused to look me

in the face, wild and seemingly unafraid, not running,

not walking into the golden woods, waiting instead for me

to move on.  Every separate hair, grey, black, brown, red,

shone in the low orange sun.  There was the coyote, too. 

There were the lovers, disturbed by me, and me, disturbed

by them and that backpack of memories torn open,

 trying to place those images and lovers somewhere in my heart

and failing, and deciding at last to just leave them in that space,

hanging dun and still, jerking like an injured squirrel

among the flaming poison ivy leaves.

 

Mary Stebbins Taitt

0610021st draft

OK,now Iamsupposed to write beyond the poem,to write whythispoemresonates forme. To addmoreimages.   But unbeknownst tome,Isat here in the car morethanhalfan hour writingthat poem.  Time flies when you're in the zone. Another detour fromhosuecleaning,buthosue cleaning is also a detour from my REAL WORK ofwriting poetry.

                Also unbeknownst to me, I had my sunglasses on the whole time, weird, first poem I ever remember writing with my sunglasses on.

                I forgot to turn off the solar when I left. I rememberedthis while Iwasgone. and wasrelieved thatitwasn't unbearably hot when I gotback.

                I got side-tracked, detoured from my rant on Detours, I wanted to do more it, but ran outof timeand steam.  One thingIwnated to add,among others,is that this was NOT a dream, unless reality is a dream. Sometimes,relaity behaves like a dream, which is both scaryand exciting.  Terrifying even.  Of course the calmrationalselfsays the bridgeconstruction and thedetours arejust aCOINCIDENCE andnot the synchronicity they seem to be.

                I've done a lot of blabbing about all this, but not only did I not finish my explorations, I did NOT ask what, if anything, I should DO about all this. Seeing aproblem does NOT, in and of itself, necessarily solve the problem.

                Why are detours a PROBLEM,are they, i fact,  a problem?

                I have a lot to say on this subject,but IMUST getto work!

                6:34  PM

                It'snotjustthe detour, but the detour casing meto to get lost andlose a lot of timefrom thegoal activity.

                This could be a love poem.  It could be a more ambitious poem.  If I had a life.

                Iam at Wegman's.  I'd run out of everything before Ileftfor Dodge, so I wantedto shop.  BUT, DUH, I forgot the check Iwnatedtodeposit in the bank rightnext door.  Another waste of time--I'll haveto come back to cash the check.  Grrrrr.

                Debbie complained of a sorethroatwhen wewere atDodge. now I have a sore throat.  I didn't KISS her!

                :-(

                I've been cleaning in themidbasementandhave "finished" another corner, the NE cornerofthe south half of the midbasement.  By finished, Imean there isprobably nothing leftinthere Iwant.  I threw away a lot,rescued a few things, and otherthan apairofboots Iwant, that's itthere,butthere are still things thatneed to be dealt with and sweeping etc.

               

This could be a love poem.  How often have I wanted

to lie in the bushes with you? Notice the sudden appearance

of a "you," And no, dear anonymous reader, I don'tmean you,

but you, my love, you.  Would you lie in the grasses with me?

would you lie in the poison ivy?  Would you lie beside the trail

and touch me until I quivered?  If someone with acamera came

walking, would you movelike an injured squirell and keep

on trying?

--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary
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Saturday, September 16, 2006

060912 Mow Lawn

Send Linda the dates for the readings.  And OR give her nameto Crystal.
nerve.com literay smut
Marge sheffer
1365 Van Antwerp Rd
Schenctady, NY 12309  Howard died

Find Certified court copy of power of attorny form
find checks
talk to keith about mail of card for Chase
    Tuesday, September 12, 2006, 12:08 I'm leaving after taking Mom for a walk and getting her situated for lunch and saying good-bye when lunch came.  We also wrote a note to Marge Sheffer with a sympathy card.  I have decided that I cannot write any more for a while--that is, no installments on Lonnie and Sassy, for example. Even if I only write while walking, because the spacebar on the Psion doesn't work well, it takes a long time later to separate all the words. I can't spare that time, so, probably no more story.
    I'd like to walk in the quarry but the lawn needs to be mowed and it is supposed to rain tomorrow and Thursday.
    2:15  I went home,made breakfast, and then went out to vote in the Primaries.  I'd forgotten they'd moved the polling place, so Iwent to the old one, and was redirected to the new which was back near home (St. Elizabeth Ann Seton). Then I went to the P&C for DISTILLED water for the CPAP, as I am completely out. They directed me to Aisle 12, and on the way, I picked up mushrooms and some other things, but there was no distilled water on Aisle 12.  Only spring water. So I put back everything I'd picked up and I'm headed for Wegman's.  I don't want to shop, not a real shopping, today, so I'm annoyed that I have to drive over there. Meanwhile, I'd called for an appoitment for my car recall, they were at lunch so I left a message and now I won't be there to get the call.  AND I am not cleaning and packing.  Grrrr!
    Everyone at Loretto (excpet Mom) was sick, the Aids, Marguerite, Janet, etc. When I got home, I scrubbed not only my hands, but also the Psion!  I have a stomach ache now.  They all had a "cold."
    I did pick up 5 more boxes from the liquor store, though.  It's a lovelyday and a moment, I'm outside, outside headed into Wegman's.  I was out with Mom earlier.  Somedays I don't get out at all, which is very sad.
    3:14 PM I went in for water and came out with $111 worth of groceries and didn't even go up and down the aisles because I was planning on shopping tomorrow.  I got three waters for the CPAP. Last time I shopped, I thought I'd be moving soon, so I didn't stock upon anything, but now there's been a set back.
    Why is it when I'm in a hurry, everyone wants to talk and I get the world's slowest teller?  Man oh man.  Of course, I'm always in a hurry lately because I feel such pressure about the house (haven't done ANY work on it today!) and everyone always wants to talk, but it was worse than usual today.  And I got Les, the old man (pretty feeble) who can't see.  I had to help him read the codes and punch them in because neither the regular scanner or hand scanner seemed to be working.  I got scallops and squid and lamb and chicken, but not many veggies.  Did get corn though, and two Olive oils.  And shallots and mushrooms.  Nothing green though.
    4:05 PM  Scott just called to tell me that he can't come to reading because he doesn't feel well.  Good thing he called, though, because Iwas thinking it was at 7 but he says it's at 6 so I really have to hurry to get the lawn mowed and eat and leave.
    I brought in the food and boxes and put the food away and made myself an Acai sorbet float with pinapple and very berry carbonated water.
    Out to MOW.
    4:22 PM  I've been trying to start the mower for more than 15 minutes and it will not start.  I'm out of breath and exhausted from the effort of trying to start it and have wasted 15minutes.  Nothing seems to help.  I am feeling so pressured about getting out of the house that every time something goes wrong I feel like bursting into tears, plus I have to leave here at 5:15 or so and wanted eat first. 
    I HATE this mower, but since I am theoretically moving, it seems silly to buy one.
    The oil is too full.  Adam used it the last time, I wonder if he added oil and if the too-full oil might be slowing the starting.
    Thursday, September 14, 2006, 10:31 AM I am back at Chase bank trying to straighten out the business with my mother's account.  This is the 4th time I've been here trying to straighten this out and I hope it get's straightened out this time.  :-(
    I want my court certified power of attourny form BACK, too.  Because otherwise I have to pay a fee to get another another one.  I forget how much, but it's $15 or $20 or something.
    A man walked in just ahead of me and is with the woman I want to see. Meanwhile, another man came in and is hovering by her door.  When I see the man inside get up, I leap up and stride over.  The other man looks disappointed and goes tothe waiting area.  I'm sorry, I was here first!
    I am so tired I can hardly stand it.  Tired and sleepy.  I had two really bad nights in a row and I don't see how I'm supposed to function!  Between running errands that have little to do with me at this point that take so long (my mother's banking.)
    The woman here says that the name change was taken care of the day I came in.  That is is changed in the computer, and that my card would have been sent to my Detroit address but not in an envelope that would say Chase on it.
    However, she says the card was probably never sent.  And that it will be sent to Detroit.  (Meanwhile, though, I should now be able to write that $30,000 check to Mom's trust to help cover the shortfall.  I'm still worrying about that shortfall.) :-(
    It was supposed to have all been worked out and it still seems a little shady.
    However, that $30,000 is a separate issue and it was included in the original initial amount that would pay for her nursing home bills, so I need to send it and confine my concerns to the other missing amount and the house transfer.  That money needs to be sent and I am the only one that can do it, because I am the only one with power of attorny and now, no one else can get that.
    I am the only one with power of attorny for my mother, which turns out to be a bit of a burden when it requires so many trips to the bank (and me to be any at everyone rushing me with the house.  I can't be doing the house when I am at the bank!))
    I'm so tired I can't think clearly or remember clearly.  WAHN?!
    I am wearing the snowmocs I bought for my Westcott Street opening, but they are really too small forme. Hard to believe my feet had changed and grown that much, but even without socks, they are too tight.  I need a size larger.
    Wahn!
    It is rainy, dark and dismal and I am tired and depressed and when I am tired or when I am depressed, I find the work of sorting and cleaning to be much more difficult.  I tend to keep more and throw out less and pine over things more of I am either tired or depressed, and today, I am both.
    6:15 PM  I am feelinga  little more cheerful now than I was earlier.  But I'm slightly POed because my watch just zeroed out when I stopped to wake a picture and I don't know how long I walked.  More than 40 seconds, which was what it said last time I stopped.  
    I was trying to get a good shot of goldenrod with an entire wash of yellow behind it and tried several times.  Keith has commented that the first shot if often the best shot, and that's true, but it also often NOT the best shot and since this is digital, I want to give myself the best change to get the shot I want.
      It rained all day, but when I started my walk, the sun was trying to (3:34) peak out.  Now however, only about 5 minutes into the walk, heavy dark clouds are mowing in.  I left my raincoat in the car.  I do have my camera bag, the one I won.  The camera was in it but I took it out when I wanted to take the first picture and haven't put it back in.  It takes so long to get it out and get it ready.
    I don't like the way the shoulder strap or any shoulder strap rides up aroundmy neck.  I don't think it's a design flaw in the case but inmy body.  The outward curve of my (6:33) breasts push the strap up from where I'd prefer it to be aroundmy chest to my neck where it feels uncomfortable.  The camera and worse yet, seatbelts do the same thing.
    I am walking along the shoulder of the road fromPalmer Scool where I parked toward 370.  The road is very busy with fast moving traffic, which I find very upsetting and scary.  Worse yet though is when one of those fast moving cars bears down right at me and suddenly honks.  It scares me terribly, and I don't know why they do that. I'm on the shoulder of the road and not in their way and I know I'm here, how could I not?
    I did drive here, but it's pretty close to home, even closer than Radisson, maybe, or if not, nearly as close.  I am sick of the neighborhood (for walking purposes) and I have a Harvest theme, so was hoping to see something harvesty in this rural area. But instead, the fields are being plowed and look spring like.
    Crossing 370 turns into a mini ordeal,but I finally make it.  14:19
    15:34, 6:34 PM I stop for pictures of old houses and barns, same ones I've taken multiple times, but I can't help myself.
    I get all wet walking through the weeds taking pictures.  Over at Abbots, they have one of those guns to scare critter from the corn etc and every time it goes off, it scares me.
    It was fairly bright when I left home and I was hoping for reasoable light for my pictures, but it's dark and dull and I'm back on 370 and the traffic is roaring by at frightening speeds.  Too dang much of it, too.  I am walking toward Abbots to make another attempt at those pumpkins, though if {22:13) the light gets any worse, it won't have been worth it.
    The Abbot's coon gun just went off again and I leaped to the side.  I'm much closser now, and it's really loud.  Betwen that and the roaring speeding traffic, this is not a very peaceful walk, but it is different than Kimbrook, anyway.  A black powder-type smell drifts by, must be from the coon gun, and meanwhile, a jogger speeds by.  And car dragging a muffler making sparks.  The jogger is really fast and I am really slow and he stretches the distance between us and is already nearly invisble in the hazy gret light.
    I cross 370 over to Abbot's side of the road so I can photgraph pumpkins.
    There aren't that many, but some is better than none.  Boom.  (28:23) (Hope Ican make itback to the car in 17 minutes or so.  Hmmm.)
    The light is truly wretched and I have to shoot at 1600 ISO which means thepictures will suck to put it mildly.  Of course, these pumpkins aren't running around and I could have carried a tripod, but I didn't.
    Ever since I read the article (or I should say perused it, scanned it) in Aperature  about super long exposure phtogrpahy, I've been wanting to try it. I used to do a lot of time exposures, including some very long ones, but not really in a systematic way for artistic purposes.  I saw avery cool one todaywhere a guy took a self portrait of himself (duh) in a chair, where he sat pretty still (but not perfectly) and then got up and stood behind himself on either side, it was very (BOOM) cool and I'd like to do one of those.  He didn't turn the camera off as he moved around, but the light was so low that there are only light swirls that show were he walked.  Fun!
    Also time consuming and I am working on cleaning the closet off the master bedroom right now.  I've made a lot of progress, but there is still a lot to be done.
    I walk over a small snake crushed, not in the road, but on the shoulder.  A garter snake. (35:09)
    It's getting so dark at 7:07 PM that even 1600 ISO is producing dark pix, I ought to give it up.  I also ought to start walking earlier in the day.  What I TRY to do is get something accomplished first (because that improves my mood) and then walk.  If I can see visible progress, I'm much cheerier.  Even something as stupid as a really large bag of gabage makes me happy.
    Happier, anyway, than the days when I am busy in other ways and get no progress on the house.  I have laundry to fold and it's amazing how fast the dishes pile up! But I keep wallowing in the piles in the closet.
    All the cars have their headlights on.  I need to figure out when the sunsets are now andplan my walk to be OVER ahalf hour before sunset or earlier (unless I want to shoot sunsets.)
    Of course, I'm dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt and have no reflective gear and am proabbly hard for drivers to see.
    I put the camera away and move the bag to my front because it has a reflective bead around it.  Now the cars, if no one is coming the other way a removing out away from me sooner.  So WHEN is sunset now?  I used to have easy access to that info when I worked at MOST, but haven't been keeping traack anymore.
    I do know it is earlier here than in Detroit.  One of the good things about Detroit, I prefer a later sunset.
    7:19 I won't make it back to my car before the 45 minutes, since it is already 47 minutes of actual walking time.
    I walked 52 minutes, 7 minutes longer than I intended to.  I guess that's not really that bad.
    Friday, September 15, 2006, 11:59 AM  I am at Loretto, waiting for, now riding down the elevator.  Mom dismissed me before the food came, ironically.  The reason that's ironic is because I was going to stay a while because I'm meeting Linda at 12:30.  But since I was dismissed, I left.  Later, if I stayed, it might be harder to leave, as it usually is.
    But now I have some time before Linda arrives.  I could walk.  Take a partial walk, since I don't know how the rest of the day will pan out. There is not enough time for a full walk.  I guess I will walk a little.
    I had another bad night last night.  Not as bad as the two previous nights, but not good at all, either, didn't get to sleep until around 2 AM (which is a little better than after 2:30 and after 3 from the previous 2 nights.  But not much.)  But my tiredness is visibly present.  I'm feeling slightly depressed and worried.
    I'm worried about the house.  I'm worried about getting moved.  I'm worried about my mother.  I'm worried about the account for her nursing home bills, the living trust, which is experiencing a shortfall.  I'm worried about the Kimbrook house, my mother's house, and about getting that $30,000 to Sandy.  I'm worried about the car and the noise it's making and whether it's safe to drive.  I'm worried about my brain tumor, my health, my lack of exercise, my inabilty to lose weight, my fibromyalgia and insomnia, my ADHD and the accompanying inabilty to concentrate and really work on what needs to be done.  I'm worrying about The Dodge poetry festival and whther or not Ishould really go to it and if so, can I round up everything Ineedsinceall mycampinggear (most of it, anyway, is in Detroit, and can I get campground reservations at this late date--I didn't get them earlier because I wasn't sure when I might have to evacuatethe house.  I'mworrying about all the other things that keep impinging on the cleaning project (the packing and sorting), how the laundryis already piling up and the dishes and how I'll have to take time away from packing and sorting to do that.  I'm worrying aboutmy writing, how it's taken a back seatto all this other stuff, and if I can ever get back to it. 
    I was going to walk down the trail in the woods behind Loretto, but it is all overgrown which wouldn't be quite so bad except for all rain.  I start down the trail and in abou 5 feet, I'm already getting soaked so I go back.  It's time to go over to Danzer's anyway.  I've been walking the whole time I was writing.  I guess I really didn't have time to walk; I only walked 13 minutes and don't dare walk any further for fear of being late.
    2:14 I had a nice lunch with Linda, and lots of talking both ways.  When she went to the restroom, I paid the bill, because she always pays it.
    2:28 PM I am out on my constitutional at "Meadowbrook Park" which actually has another name, but I can'tthink of it, at the Meadowbrook Detention basin.  It has suddenly gotten hot.  I had the fan on full power in my car, and that was insuffiicient to the task. 
    I wanted to walk at the quarry, but this was more on my way to leMoyne and a smaller walk.  When I go to the quarry, I want to walk the rim to the far side and look there.  I would not have had time for that.
    * * *
    Pendula had spotted them and backed up so that the bulk of his porcupine-like body completely closed the mouth of the cave entrance to the underground castle.  The great pendulous mane of snakeheads came erect, as did the pointy quills on his body.  The lion eyes were fiery red and followed them as they circled overhead.  The snakeheads, now erect, bobbed and weaved and followed them as well. Sassy had imagined they might slip past Pendula when they first saw him, for he hadn't looked large or scary and there was room between him and the entrance to fly in, but now she saw this was hopeless.  No way could they just get past.
    "Could there be another way in?" Lonnie whispered.   Sam circled around looking.  The mountain rose in sheer cliffs above Pendula, up and up. 
    "Look," Sassy said, excitedly, "what is that?"  Sam climbed, stretching his long wings.  Far above Pendula, there was a ledge and what appeared to be a narrow opening.  Sitting on the ledge was a single rattlesnake as thick as Sassy's arm.  But the opening was high enough that the rattlesnake probably couldn't reach them, if the flew in right at the top.
    Sam dove for the opening. It was dark inside.  If there were other snakes, or monsters, they couldn't see them.  The cavern turned to the left and far in the distance was a faint light.  Sam flew toward the light.  Sometimes his wingtips brushed the cave wall in the darkness.  Sometimes fluttery wings of what must have been bats brushed against their faces.  But they flew on toward the light.  Gradually, the cave brightened a little, and they could see magnificent stalactites and stalagmites and columns.
    After awhile, they could see that the light came from two huge torches burning on either side of another entrance, this one hewn from rock in a rectangular doorway.  The torches were clutched by iron hands with long clawed fingers that emerged from huge oaken doors that were dark with dampness and mildew except for a dark teardrop shaped area burned and stained from the flame of the torches.
    Sam flew in the open door and voice called, "Halt!  Who goes there?" They saw no one at first.  Then they saw a figure sitting in the shadows at a low table.  It was a woman.  A very small woman, smaller even that Lonnie and Sassy.   She didn't look too dangerous, but Sassy guessed maybe she had special powers.
    "We are Sassy, Sam and Lonnie," Lonnie said.
    "We come in friendship," Sam said.
    "We want to speak to the King of the dwarves," Sassy said.
    "You've come to the wrong place," the woman said.  "This is the gateway to the realm of the faery folk."
    "May we speak to you without harm?" Lonnie asked.
    "You may speak. If you offer us no harm, we will not harm you."
    Sam, who had been circling and hovering settled to the cave floor and Lonnie and Sassy scrambled off.  They towered over the woman, who came only to Sassy's waist.
    "Are you a fairy?"  Sassy asked, I thought Fairy's had wings and would fit in the palm of my hand."
    The woman, who had looked like a normal human only smaller, stepped into the air and flew up to sit on Sassy's shoulder.  She was smaller than before, and huge butterfly wings waved slowly at her shoulders. They were golden and glowed faintly I the dark cave.
    I thought the Faery Folk were just like humans only smaller and more magical," Lonnie said.  The woman stepped off Sassy's shoulder, grew larger again, and suddenly disappeared.
    "Are you still here?" asked Sam. The woman reappeared.
    "What's your name?" asked Sassy?
    "You can call me Linnette.  I cannot give you my true faery name right now.  Tell me, what is your business with the dwarves?"
    * * *
    I walked, including the time I walked at Loretto, 49 minutes. I have to hurry now to get to leMoyne.
    OH, Barry Park is where I just walked.
    3:37 PM I amatLeMoynenow,and I found my way to the visitor parkinglot. It's gotten very dark and cloudy.  I think it's starting to rain lightly.  I have to walk up through the campus to Reily hall for the Michael Martone Craft talk.
    I don't really know how to getthere from here.  Ithink I already made awrong turn. 
    AK
    I left my raincoat in the car.  I hopeit doesn't rain too hard before I getthere, especially since I am totally lost.
    Oh-h,there'smycar.  Ijust walked in a total circle, this is BAD!
    I get my raincoat and my compass, ascertain that I want to go south, and start off thatway.  It's totally overcast and the sidewalkswind every whichway and Iam unfamilarwith the campus,only having used a small part of it.   But now I see the mistake I made I thinkand hope I can get there itime.
    "Art is framed deviance" Michael Martone.
    "Museumof Jurassic Technology Cabinet of wonders
    Mr Wilson's Cabinet of wonders
    nerve.com literary smut
    Take an object in the wolld that has no erotic connotation and eroticize it.
    Write a story in 20minutes.  (A McSweeney's assignment)

--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary
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Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Golden Harvest festival, unedited and full of errors

Sunday, Septmeber 10, 2006, 11:28 GHF
    Well, here I am at Golden Harvest Festival.  I was going to walk first, but it's 11:30 and John Rossbach's bluegrass band is supposed to play at 11:30.  They are up there tunning up and doing a monitor check and I have a seat front row center.  I do need to walk. But I can walk at homeif I have to.  I can't hear live John Rossbach at home or in Detroit, probably.
    I couldn't have gotten a much better parking place, row A here at Beaver lake.  Someone left and I had the good fortune of being directed to fill the open place.  I was hoping for acess to my car in case I get too hot and need to stash clothes.  I charged Thyria's battery but forgot to bring film for the film camera, darn.  So I left that in the trunk. 
    They are taking a too long time to tune up and check the monitor.  John Rossbach has gotten grey and "older."I look the sameas I did when Iwas 16,of course.  Oh,here they go, Shady Grove.  I'd love to hop up and dance but I'mshy about being so fat.
    I haven't seen Erin.  Or anyone else.  Except tourists, etc.
    I think I have to change the lens onmy camera.  I have the 100 macro on.
    12:34  PM  John Rossbach is overand they are setting up for the wildlife show.  I'm trying to decide whther to stay for it or go walk or takepictures of scarecrows.  Or what.
    I thought the wildlife show might possibly give a photo op, but then again, it might not.  I never did change lenses.  I did take a few pix of John Rossbach and Perry Cleaveland. 
    I haven't seen anyoneI know yet other than John Rossbach.
    The wildlife guy is named Brian.  His first bird is a hawk from Texas, a Harris Hawk.  MaybeI should change my lens.
    Now he has an eagleowl out, and I got pix of both.  The Harris Hawk flewaway into the trees!
    Next, a peregrine Falcon.  Alligator, legless lizards, king snakes and darn I forgotthetoher,the coral snakelook alike.
    1:14 PM I did take somepictures,but they werepictures of animals being held (andthe escaping Harris Hawk).  The best ones,ifthey comeout, might be the eagle owl.
    Now I am sitting at the gazebo to listen to JohnRossbach again. If I don't get to walk I can always walk at 5:00 when the festival closes.  I wantto pull up my haybale a little even though I'm front center. But on theotherhand, I'm not going to stay for it all, I don't want to hear the whole rhyming blues thing again,it drags out after a while.Fun,but should be keptshorter.
    I do wish the events would start ontime.  I could be walkinga round, but don't wanttolosemy front row cneter seat.  Although there are otherempty haybales nearby.
    I haven't lookedmuch in the booths but I did walk by a number of themand didn't seemuch that interested meexcept Dan Duggin playing and some watercolors. The rest of thestuff is just junk to spendmoney on.  I'm sitting in the sun wiating for themtobegin and it's getting pretty hot in the sun.  Facing into the sunandfacing uphill so I have to look up intothe bright sun.
    1:47 Waltz across Texas with you.  I have my shirt andvest tied aroundmy waist and amstill hot. Everything is getting covered with hay.
    Terry Miller just said hi tome.  He's sitting behindme with a woman.
    Blue Moon of Kentucky (a BillMonoe tune).  Icould get 3 John Rossbach CDs for $30 or 2 for £25 (they're usually $17 each),butialready have at least one of them,maybe 2.  I'd like to get thenew one,it's $15 if I just get one but then I'd have to carry it.
    I wish Keith would be in charge of music like I asked him and alternate between my stuff and his.  The radio is a lazy default, though you do get to hear things you might not otherwise hear.
    He's playing "the Coal tattoo" which I LOVE, great song.  Good music and lyrics.  I don't knowhat it is about livemusic I love so much, it seems so much more alive and vibrant, so real and present in a way recorded music never does. Maybe Keith would like this song; it's a union song of sorts.
    2:11 PM  Every other person here has an icecream cone.  I haven't hadlunch
    I had a story idea, call it Golden Harvest Festival or soemthing similar and look into the very differentlives of people intersecting at the festival. Handicap people,happy families,angrypeople,muscians,people working etc.  The whole story,whateveitis takesplaceint he days of thefestival (pr in oneof them)P
    I'minlinefor a chicken barbecue,even thoughthere'slots of other stuff.  Ithinkthat's fairly safe, $7. Saltpot I haven't seen Erin yet,I don't even know if she's here andif sheis,where.  She maybe taking moneyforpeople coming off the bus.  But since I'm not sure if she's here, I'm probably not going to go look.
    I paid formy chicken dinnerbutit will be 15minutes beforeit's ready.  AK! No chairs of hay bales nearby.  I'll get tired standing, wahn.  Nothing to takepictures of,either,dark in the fod tent.
    2:51  I scarfed down my greasy food at a table with unknonpeople includinga nice bus driver about my age (butter on the salt potates, baked beans which may make me sick, butter ladeled on the corn on the cob), tried to clean myself up (hopeless), stopped by the living scarecrow contest and took some pix of the kids (saw Greg Smith) and now I am back at the main stage listeningto Los Blancos (the white boys?).  They just played Me-ohMy-oh Byou song andare now playingsomerocking Zydeco. Cool stuff.  I like it.
    This band goes on and on without a break but now they are stopping and will be back in 45 minutes.
    Erin,if she's here,could also be working at the games or sellingdonuts,I suppose.   I hear someonesinging, "The riveris wide, I cannotget o'er,neitherhaveIthe wings to fly, andI go insearch ofit,thinkinging itis Dan Duugin,butcan't findit and itends.
    I grab someshots of the pie eating contest but I can't get close enough to get a really good shot,huge crowd.
    I look in the gamesfor Erin, twice,no sign ofher. 
    3:29  Iwalkthrough the booths in the upperparkinglot and run into Bob and Pat Geraci. I look at somebeautiful leaf paintings and talk to the artist,he admires my camera
    3:46 I'min the cideranddonut line(NOT fordonuts!).I have hadanything at all to drink norhave I used the bathroom all day.  But Iamreally thirsty.  IammissingDan Duggin up at the gazebo, but I have to have a drink.  (Then I'll prolly have to pee).
    I ended up back at the wildlife show and tookmorepix of the eagleowl, peregrine and baby alligator being held,but left for cider before he got to the legless lizards again.
    I get two ciders and whileI'm attempting to drinkthem, Ann Pia, one of my T'ai Chi students, comes out to talk to me and I congratualte her for passing her teaching certificate for T'ai Chi.
    I attempt somepictures of the jugglers but I have entirely the wrong lens for that.  Then Imakeittothe gazebo for the last 1 1,2 songs of Dan Duggin and CO.
    There is only 45minutes left of the festival--it closes at 5.  It is probably unlikely I'll walk before 5.
    Now the zydeco group isplaying again at themains tage, I think.  I'm still thirsty, 2 glasses of cider wasn't enough.
    They are selling kettle corn herelike at the Civil war Muster.  The juggling is still going on.  I goback and catch them juggling knives.
    4:26 PM I stand and stand trying to get somegood shots of the jugglersjuggling kinves, but suddenly,Ican't stand any moreandI try to take one more picture butmy 1 gig card is full, so I walkover and sit down at the zydeco stage. It's loud and not that good for some reason and Ithink I've about had it. I took a lot of pix, but don't know if any of them are any good.  The fishing scarecrows were deep in shade and the pond was in sn when Iwent over there.  Later a big cloud came and the lighting would have been better, not as contrasty, but I couldn't get back in time.  They are doing a riff and I'm getting in the groove, oops,but now they're back to shouting and the speakers are too too loud.  Bleah.  And I am so SOO THIRSTY.
    Now, suddenly, it's cloudy again.  Should I make a run for the fishing scarecrows?
    I need to sit a little, I stood too long.  Then Iam going to walk.
    Pat Geraci told me to go in the building and see the line-up of the T-shirts from all the years of Golden harvest, but I never made it in.  I considered buying one from this year, but since I didn't work it, it seems wrong to have a shirt.  I did look.  I haven't bought anything yet, and the time is almost up.  It's officially over in 11 minutes (and then I'm going to walk.)  I wonder how they did.  There are plenty of people here, but not as many as other years.  And Sara said it was sort of dead yeaterday.  I hope they did OK; they have to pay for all the artists and the shuttle buses etc
    Tomorrow is 9/11 and I had been planning on posting my "safe" picture ondomestic abuse and calling it home-grown terrorism, but I have an idea for another picture, more topic specific. I was thinking of taking a woman's shoe from Heidelberg and making it white and treating it with a lead layer for 9/11. But that means I have to do it.  The other picture is already done.
    It's 5:00 and still pretty crowded.
    matt smith mcsmith3.shutterfly.com photos fromBozeman etc check itout
    gregsmith@ongov.net
    I break down and spend $1 on water and it isicy cold(I hate cold water) but I'mso thirst I suck down the whole bottle.  While I'mdrinking it, Greg smith comes by and tells me his sonMatt is outin Bozemn or somewherestudying population of bears and fishers doing hair captures and analzing the DNA down to speciesandindividuals.
    He gives me.his shutterfly adress.
    I promise to give hima disc of pictures but I really out to givehim a DVD instead,since there are so many.  I start out on the deep woods trail formy walk andsomeone roars by in a golfcart spewing dust all over me.  It's cold int he woods.  Theymust havedivided up tasks ahead in theplanningbecause the tentsarecomingdown andthe scarecrows are coming down, atleast someofthem, andI may notget morepictures on the way back--did Imentionit's cold inthewoods andmaybe I will have to stop and putmy shirtback on. 
    I never had a horse ride ($3) or a hayride--the last hayride is going by on thenext trail over onit's wayback.
    I had been thinking Imight have somefeestival food for dinner,but I'mnot hungry at all.
    I drankthat whole bottle of water and Iam still thirsty. 
    I was just going to comment about how as I get deeper into the woods itis getting quieter and quieter asthe sounds of the festival fade behindme, ut the guy inthegolf carts comes zooming up with somebuddies makinga racket.
    Now it's getting quiet again.
    I never did see Erin (I don't even know ifshe was here,butIsuspect shewas.)  I also bever saw Bruce or Debbie or verymany otherpeople I know.
    It's very still in the woods. What adelightfulcontrast to theloudness of the Zydeco bad (which was beginningto wearonmeeven though Iliked it) and the bustle of the festival.
    Oh-h,Ijust discoveredmyISO is setat 800--Ithought it was at 400,and Imust have takenallmyfestival pictures atISO 800.AK!  WAHN.  I hateitwhen I'm stupid.  Imeantto shoot them at 400.
    I likeBeaver lake. I ought to come here and walk more often. 
    It's gorgeous inher, gorgeous to the eye, anyway. But the lightis very contrasty. I've tried making a few pix and they aren't coming out.
    A walk past a tiny stream with a little miniature water fall and the trickling sound reminds me how thirsty I am. 2glasses ofciderandabottle of waterbarelymade adent in my thirst. I'm not hungry but I'm desperately thirsty! 
    I hear woodpeckers, serveral of them,and crickets.  Earlier, I heard the shuttle bus go by a couple times.
    I think for a moment, thinking about Greg and matt, that I married the wrong man, that I should have married soemone like Heidi's Ken or Greg who live in the country and are unterested in nature and science.  But not only are Ken and Greg already take, but I don't like them that way, I don't love them that way, and I do love Keith. And he likes nature and science.  Too bad he lives in Detroit though.
    The water at the inlet is very high.
    6 PM I am down at the duck blind.  The man that sold me water was embarassed to be selling water. Someone could set up huge water jugs and charge 2 center a cup or ten cents a cup for tap water.  I told him I'd heard an expose on NPR about the germiness of drinking fountains.  I never did make it into the building.
    I've had this heavy camera hung around my neck all day.  I did take alot of pictures.  Hope someof them are good.  In spite of the 800 ISO.
    A very close, very loud crow.  People walking and tallking in the woods.  I liked it better when I was alone.  THAT is one of the reasons I rarely come here.  I like being alone in nature.  I hate that the space bar doesn't work well or at all one this Psion.
    There is something very soothing and comforting aboutbeingout innature on aperfect "fall" day (very fewannoingbugs!). Itis almost as soothing and coforting as agood hug,butnot quite.
    I was just thinking about how my pix got tuened downa t the State fair and I heard some people saying how therewas some real crap there who didn't even know I'd been turned down.  And how at BP sometimes somepicture wins a prize and I think I submittedonelike it, only better.  Dunno why they won,ineither instance. But there are somepictures that win that really deserve it, that are spectacular.  The ones Imean are the scenics that areso totallycrisp and clear and incredibly lovely.  To me, they are a represntation of a perfectworld and of a perfect awakeness and awareness.
    I look around at this less than perfect world with it's harsh contrasty light and I think, I cna't take those pictures unless I arrive in the right place at the right time.  I can't take them here, now.  I'm here, the lake is here, nature is here, but although it's beautiful, it's not photogenic.  I cannottakethosepictures, but itis still lovely.  I can ENJOY it, enjoy the birdsong and cricket song and the still lake and the woodsy smell. And I am.
    and I am missing keith.
    I'llhave to tell keith about spending the cash he gave me.  I spent $5 to get in, $7 forlunch, $1 for twoglasses of cider and $1 for 1 bottle of water.
    I bought nothingin the way ofT-shirts, CDs, art,photography, cars (Isaw somenice leafones for Gail), etc. Nothing.
    6:30 Iam at the bench at the council ring. The sun has moved down into some hazy cloud on the horizon.  A couple walks by, gossiping loudly and somewhat breathlessly about other workers at GHF.
    As I am leaving the council ring, I suddenly seeitpeopled with friends and relatives, and I remember how happy andhopeful we were.  I got married here, andnow Iam divorced. Iwas a naturalist here, and now I amnothing.  I am Keith's wife, a writer, a poet,and a photogrpahe But I have disappeared from hereandnotreappeared there.  I am inlimbo.  I feel sad suddenly for me and Bruceand the love we onceshared.
    A flock of honking geese fly over and I wonder whythey call it honking and not squawling.  I hear the honk sound,but they also sound like they are squawking.
    The light filling the forest off the lake is tanged with honey ornagefromlow sun and the whole forest is alight with gold. I attemp a few photos of it but they don'tdo it justice.  The autowhite balance removed the honey color,Ithink.  I suppose I couldturnitoff.
    But I lefthomebefore 11AM and haven't peed allday and it's almost 7 PM (well,it's 6:42) and Iamthinking I need to go home so I can pee.
    Walking after the festival had onehopefuladvantage, Iprobablyavoided the great exodus. There were still alot ofpeople here when I left tow alk. Now itis only volunteers, artistsand craftspeopel cleaning up,and employees.
    I run into Dave Schubert and talk to him,but Brucecalls onthe 2-way and wants him to do something.  I see Richie in a big landmover and wave.  I walk past the blooming onion stand (those are good,butonly if you have 6 other people to help you eat them.  Most of tge tents are gone,most of the garbage is gone.  golf carts and those gold-cart likemultiwheeled vehicles are buzzingaroun.  I walk past the horses and goat pens, all that is left is the barnyrad smell.  A haze of dust lies over the parkinga reas from the hugeexodus of cars.
    There are still some cars and trailers in thelot. 
    Dave was upset becausesomebody released the huge wad of baloons from the entrance and theywere flying way to, as he put it, "kill sea turltes."
      There'smy car.  I forgot to turnmy watchback on after I stopped talkingto Dave and probablywalked another 5minutes tomycar but it doesn'tmatter because I'd already walked more than 54 minutes.  My watch says 54.
    A heron flies by and I try to get it'spicture with the 300 and a woman in atruck askswhatI'm doing. Shelooks forthe heron,but it's gone. I got it, but I don't know how good.
    7:27 PM  I'm in my driveway.  When I droveintothe street,everything seemed strange, as if I'd been awayalong time. Isawmy houseandfeltsad.  Will Iever getmoved? Will I ever get out? IfI ever get outand Erin gets in, will I ever be in the house again?
    Idrankanother bottle of water in the ar on the way home.  It's beenover 8 and a hlaf hours since I peed.
    I've had no dinner, but I'm not really hungry yet, either.
    I enjoyed the music, I enjoyed the nature, I enjoyed seeing a few people I knew, some more than others.  I think it would have been more fun with Keith or with the girls, or with a friend.  It's been a long dayand I am tired.
    I bought a couple organic delicata squashes, and Iwas thinking of throwing them in the oven. How do you eat them if you can't havebutter or margarine?
    I'm not hungry yet, but by the time they're done, I probably will be.
    I not only didn't pee all day but didn't wash allday including before of after that messy chicken.
    Wait wait don'ttell me is on again,Imissed ityesterday.
    Someoneon Waitwaitdon'ttellme is talkinga bout how hismice lick the peanut butter off his traps without springing them.  I wish I had some frozen corn to stuff the suash with.  Maybemushrooms?
    Ground beef?
    Roy BluntJunioris the one with themice.
    Sausage andmushroomsstuffed suash?
    Monday Septmeber 13,2006, 8:03 PM  I am finally out on constitutuional.  It's dark.  It was a beautiful sunny day,butInever stepped a single step putside the door.  I did several loads of laundry, washed dishes that were piling up threw things away,listened to the 9/11 coverage.  I also sleptlate again, because I'd had a bad night the night before last.  So I had a shorter day than usual. 
    One of the thinsg I threw away was the caopenerthat Aunty Ann gaveme (an electric canopener.  Onthe onehand,Ineverwnated anelectric canoepner,but on theother hand,the hand crankone I have is a piece of garbage.  However, I tossed out the elctric one and a bunch of other less notable things includinga bottle or Pert shampoo that was labelled Sara from God knows when.
    I spent a lot of timecrying listening to 9?11 survors and family talkabout their loved ones whodied. But I don't think that was any reason to kill other innocent people.


--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary
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