far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Sunday, June 27, 2004

Now where was I? Oh, right -- dazed babble.

For real, there's been far too much of that. I'll be on the phone with a friend or hanging out with someone, I'll realize my conversation is veering all over the place, me interrupting the other person far too often. For no good reason, sounding mighty unfocused.

Ah, well, it'll pass.

Meanwhile, if you've waded through many of this journal's earlier Vermont entries, you've gotten the idea that there's a whole lot of grass cutting to do here during the warm season. Enough to get me out with the mower for an hour or so most days of the week. A power mower. Loud. Loud enough that it got me way tired of programming in a daily dose of that kind of noise.

Somewhere during recent months an ad for manual lawn mowers caught my attention, I found myself checking out websites that peddle them. Not a practical idea, the push-mower thing, for most of the cutting that needs to be done around here, but appealing for working right around the house. Genuinely, surprisingly appealing. And one day, after a drawn-out process of inner debate, I found myself doing the deal, forking over credit card cash for a brand new mower. UPS dropped it off shortly before my return, I found its components waiting for me in a big white carton covered with assembly instructions and happy pro-product propaganda.

It's a different animal from the push mower my parents made me use around our teeny quarter-acre lot during my younger years of indentured servitude. A high-tech low-tech machine, if you get my drift. Simply made. Light. Efficient. Not needing big expenditures of calories or ergs (assuming the grass being mown isn't eight, ten inches long). Requiring slightly more effort than the power mower to get it going, but not much. Producing hardly any noise, and what sound it makes is strangely agreeable. Almost musical compared with the blaring roar of the power-mower.

It got its first run the day after my return, after 36 hours of little sleep and many miles traveled. Probably not the time to attempt something like this: the grass too long, me too tired, too impatient. I switched to the power rig, left it at that. Until a few days ago, when the lawn around the house had recovered to a point of needing another cut. Pulled out the push mower, got to work. And found myself enjoying it, a sensation that felt almost perverse, considering the activity.

Used it again yesterday out here in the yard off this side of the house, the work comfortably low-effort, bizarrely pleasant. Meditative at times. Me cutting away, the mower producing its quiet sound, in no way obscuring cricket noise or the singing of birds.

Weird. Far too tranquilly rustic. But clearly a match for my current slightly-buzzed, abstracted state of mind. Should I be worried about that?

******************

Yesterday, not far from here, beneath a June sky:




Madrid, te echo de menos.

rws 1:31 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
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March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
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September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
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June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
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January 2008
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March 2008
April 2008
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June 2008
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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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