Maple keys have this vaguely sexual aspect to them. All those skin-like surfaces and veins and bulges, I guess. I finished painting the porch this afternoon and naturally the wind decided to blow and a million of these things fell down into the paint.
A dream from the other night. I found myself at the end of an ice age, shooting mammoths with a tranquilizer gun to inoculate them against some disease. The trick with mammoths is to let them get close enough, or you’ll never penetrate that thick hide. Dangerous work. I remember the sense of being alone, the only human on the planet. I also remember the feeling of futility, trying to save something that was already doomed.
The Queen of Hearts. For lovegraceredemption .
If I sit in a restaurant my back is almost always to the wall. At various times I’ve been mistaken for morose or upset when in reality what I’m doing is listening. All the tiny stories that march in and out. In bus stations. On trains. So many people walking by, making noise, never thinking about the part they play in the serenade. If I can be still and quiet it all spreads out like musical theatre.
My lunch today. It’s only recently that I’ve gained such an appreciation for them.
I like Kokeshi dolls. They make them from plastic these days, but I appreciate the old-style wood ones. I once saw a Japanese craftsman turning one and I’ll always remember the concentrated ease he used when painting her features.
A previous owner constructed a fenced dog-run in our narrow yard. I’ve left it fallow for two years and the gravel is now studded with dandelions. I have it in mind to build a miniature Japanese garden.
Lachrimaestro 