Norman Mailer

“Faulkner writes his long sentence because he never really touches what he is about to say and so keeps chasing it; Hemingway writes short because he strangles in a dependent clause; Steinbeck digs into the earth because characters who hold martini glasses make him sweat; Proust spins his wrappings because [a gay man] gets slapped if he says what he thinks.”

-- Norman Mailer

Monday Stream

Feeling like I am kind of at loose ends ... lost on the ocean on a raft without a paddle. I want to see if keeping open a daily stream-of-consciousness journal entry might help.

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Winds are kicking up and the morning gets dark (10:20). We are supposed to be entering a little rainy spell, but it is not supposed to get wet until tomorrow. Regardless, having Coco and Ash inside with me, I go out and grab Sammy, and am pleased that he does not make a run for it, though he is not particularly delighted with being brought in and nicks my finger with a claw - no blood, no real foul.

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Feeling knocked out ... sliding into bed (10:50) ... sugar-crash from my pumpkin pie breakfast, I guess. Coco was lying on the bed and leaps off ... doesn't like to share ... fine, have it your way. ... why do I stay another day in this vale of tears? ... only a pretty thing with big tits could save me - for a little while at least. ... sleep won't come, though ... may as well get up again ... try to do my daily routine ... Abraham Lincoln and Robert Frost ... should be more fun than this.

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It has only been raining leaves, so far, but it has gotten colder ... time to switch back to sweatpants (11:10).

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Pop makes it in (1215) ... just as I'm getting ready to cook my lunch ... hamburger patty and fries ... beans ... his routine question, "Is everything okay?" ... I say yes ... though, I wouldn't have minded another six hours or so to myself ... but there is a more serious problem: I have to tell him about the window ... it won't shut all the way ... in the big room. It's not a crisis, but it is a problem.

Poem

Years later, long single,
I want to turn to his departed back,
and say, What gifts we had of each other!
What pleasure—confiding, open-eyed,
fainting with what we were allowed to stay up
late doing. And you couldn’t say,
could you, that the touch you had from me
was other than the touch of one
who could love for life—whether we were suited
or not—for life, like a sentence. And now that I
consider, the touch that I had from you
became not the touch of the long view, but like the
tolerant willingness of one
who is passing through.

-- “Poem of Thanks” by Sharon Olds

This is actually only the first half of the poem. The second half left me behind. One can click the link to read the poem in its full glory.

The Window

Pop managed to shut the window, but it's a family-skilled job: we are not to open the window anymore. I am not the one to mock him, though it does upset me. I couldn't do better on my own. Yet, if I were in his financial shoes, I would rather pay somebody to really fix the problem rather than get a two-thousand-dollar TV. Still, I would have a hard time connecting with the right people who do that work, and I'd probably get cheated pretty bad. And, frankly, I'd actually prefer to be spared a visit by Jack and Jill, for they are the ones that he would call.

Closer to God

Pop announces that Kay will not be coming over next weekend. He will be going over there again. It's the church. And his old age. Remember, she's a churchy woman, and he is liking their social functions. I imagine it is in line with his longer and louder prayers at meal times. He wants to get more chummy with God. I am not laughing. Actually, I can envy him, I think. Maybe he is feeling a strong sense of spirituality, which is something I would not mind enjoying, God or no God. Though, I will note that he is still practical enough that he does not seem to care to go to the actual worship services, which can be a little long and a lot boring.

Cats and Weather

I was going to play it safe and keep the cats indoors. It has already gotten pretty cold. After all, the cats have enjoyed a lot of time out there lately. However, Sammy was whining, and I figured that it would be better to let them work out their restlessness, because I definitely intend to keep them inside overnight, and this might help them to be more quiet. The main risk is that it might start to rain and they are caught out in the neighborhood somewhere, to be wet and very cold for hours and hours. They do look dreamily cute running and leaping about among the falling leaves. The autumn really is the season for cats. It is my season too, but I don't quite frolic like they do.

The Natural World

lol by Cloudtail on Flickr.

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