far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Sunday, September 14, 2003

Sometime during the last 2-3 hours, the air here has thickened up, becoming still, humid. The kind of conditions that produce flopsweat with minimal physical exertion. Minimal. Like walking, breathing. Standing up, sitting down.

(What a great term: flopsweat.
Flopsweat. FLOPsweat.
Man, I love language.)

I went out a short time ago to cut some grass, a blessedly infrequent activity during the last couple of weeks, rain having been kindly, thoughtfully scarce. (Plenty of fog and mist in the mornings, burning off around 9 or 10 a.m. Lovely autumn temperatures, meaning upper-30s/lower-40s at night, upper-60s/lower 70s during the day. And little rain.) Ten minutes into pushing the mower around, sweat began flowing with joyous abandon. Not because of sun (it's overcast), not because of heat (the thermometer currently reads 68 ). Because the air is syrupy and still. Bleah.

Which gave me an excellent excuse to stop working. Not that I needed much of an excuse, having spent the day working -- cleaning up/printing out a manuscript in prep. for procuring an agent to hawk the bugger to an unsuspecting sucker publishing house. Chilling instead of mowing lawn, at this point, is no hardship.

[Manuscript excerpts can be found in this journal's entries of 5/24/02, 6/15/02, 8/13/02, 8/22/02, 12/28/02]

My downhill neighbor, Mo -- a crusty, indomitable, hugely entertaining 82-year-old who's lived here on the hill most of his life -- went into the hospital this last Tuesday for a knee replacement. The way he put it when I stopped by to see him on Monday: "The ax falls at 6:30 a.m.!" He delivered that comment through gleeful cackling, half-amazed/half-gleeful to hear himself spouting something many might consider fate-tempting. Haven't seen him since, though I've gotten updates from his wife, Kay. The ride apparently turned out to be a bit rougher than anticipated due to the many medications being prescribed and pumped into him by various medical personnel. Some of which did not mix well. Tomorrow he goes into a rehab. for a week before coming back home. He intends to be out in the woods come mid-October, ready for hunting season. I hope he makes it.

**********

Label seen on a sandwich in a deli cooler at the Hunger Mountain Food Co-Op in Montpelier:
Meat Sandwich.
(No further details supplied re: contents.)
Considering that the Co-op is generally a haven for healthy chow, something about that no-frills, two-word description seems excessively, creepily austere.

On a related note, a single sentence I found in notes made for a journal entry a couple of months back -- lacking further explanation and, needless to say, never used:
my fingers smell like cheese

**********

Not that you asked --

Currently hanging out in the CD player:

Body and Soul -- Errol Garner
Welcome To The Monkey House -- The Dandy Warhols
Mezzanine -- Massive Attack
Viva! La Woman -- Cibo Matto
Symphony No. 5/The Lark AscendingVaughan Williams

rws 7:13 PM [+]

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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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