speakers...

playtime is over when fetch makes me bleed. retrieve zealot. her ballast upends every stop. a furrow appears. most things are coated. slick. willow debris interstices. we have a tug war. the victor wins what.

the pretend word that fills me up today: numberbund. let's imagine. it's the sash he tucks his digits in at fancy functions. he who? exactly. i've never known a numberbund.

sock monkey update: all limbs in place! hooray! still without face. also i've decided mine's a sock gibbon due to the (mis)proportion of her appendages. she's a right little gangledon.

reading about home stereo. the word speaker began to get to me. it's a strange word if you give it a minute. speaker. speaker. i put the book on top of the speaker. i have new speakers. the speaker sounds nice. yes, the speaker is in the corner. speaker. odd.

last night i decided to listen to yankee hotel foxtrot. the burned copy. that made me miss my friend. and the nice synchronisticicicicity of finding a letter in my inbox. i love that.

and this confirms what some of us already knew.

the primates...

beautiful day. and old ladies wearing beads above orange safety vests sit under trees. many. and why? hmm.

i've nearly completed a sock monkey. still missing one arm and a face. almost opted for button eyes. but the faraway stare's unappealing. makes for creepy monkey. getting any shut eye with him around would be work.

this evening in town a t.v. in the background had an aye-aye (sp?). tap tap tapping its gangle finger on a termite log. and then feed cam showed him sucking out grubs. from grub perspective. i never thought i'd get that angle. technology.

the dahlias are beginning to bloom. pink.

i'm knackered.

anthropological...

last night passing the hall a wedding was winding down. in tails and tipped a man on the railing said aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwoooooogggggghhhhh. without missing a beat the sister said ah yes. the traditional stabbing of the groom. i am still giggling about that. he really was making a pained sound. i think it was a result of the champagne cup though. the only things righting him were the tails. counterbalance.

then today we picked berries. a man with his daughter and tiny dog. i thought he blew a whistle. strident and with frequency. but it was the dog. not blowing a whistle dog but a dog sound. i've never heard anything like it. and the man's daughter was talking. i think to herself. a girl of five or seven. and she said eld ooohh et haum erth min ree owlde(r) tredth. it was really beautiful. when i turned to look she stopped and the dad stood very still. so i started picking again. the first thorn prick of the picking. and i smashed that berry. my hand was shaking.

cool air is finally trickling in the window. thank heavens. going to break out the pen and paper over there by it. away from this heat producing box.

good night.

blogday...

i just realized today was my blogday. imagine that. one year. and i didn't hie back to the dry land. aquatic. glad about that. hooray!

thermal...

for a spell beneath the tree we exchanged. greengage pie. the large gallinaceous bird. monkey pod. about the lion of the 40's and i'll be feasting with my lord again. sugarplum. but the heat. good god.

for at least an hour i hid in the dark. unraveling the alpaca thing. it will live again. a stocking existence. winter will make me celebrate it. meanwhile. blech! who'll put their feet in that? not me matey.

listening: more than this-- robyn hitchcock

it's beautiful out. i'm going to get some of that. to such an end...

walkabout...

on the left immediate out the door double yolk moon. huge. black jewel fasten scratch of foreground trees. on the right lights of electric origins. from the once trees gridways. from the tree trees anyways. and that made quite the tunnel.

on an afternoon walk (today's surplus of time!) there was similar. the arcade which is to say a walnut dowry. think we've gone past it. but. one hundred years hence. four had been pared. and the crown sprouts almost ripe again. the rest is old. rooted chastity. the why they still stand. curious.

then i did some reading.

* * *

in other news...

sleeeeepy.

glad all is right. waving good night now.

tired...

fires are all over. making the amber lens. shadows in triplicate. and scorched air.

this morning before the sun came over i was walking. a tree i generally pass gained in interest. apricots. nobody around so i climbed up into the landscaping. perfect pointed little apricot. quite possibly my favorite fruit. and this one was so good. so. very. good. i'll be chasing that high.

i'm beat. going to climb into my attic and upsidedown sleep for a few orbits. tuckered. but am i really going to. as she pours a frothy iced coffee at nine in the p.m.

the feverfew is white white! because of a waxing moon i think. have to fold up that beautiful white greeting and put it in my pocket. count the clock tick for another toiling few hours.

g'night.

links!

looking for vassilikos info and stumbled upon some things. here. i haven't read that one. ignorant of its existence. but i wants to read it now. i have a copy of and dreams are dreams. quite enjoyable. whilst googling the v.v. found this lip-smacky good list. and from there discovered a connection that made me feel pretty silly. this russell is that russell. oh my. frances was a favorite when i was wee. sometimes running away under the table is the only way to go. cookies you know.

well. i can finally breathe without my lungs withering. the sun has departed. and i'm going to stroll.

reservoir...

this evening saw the coming of the chokecherry jar. honey. electric torch quiver up the stalks. the green sky and diffuse stars. calling for the gloved cat.

i think we'll go to the lake soon. once i saw a buck ford. just tines above the surface. advancing chevron. and somewhere under the green a cabin. or the skeleton of a cabin. i always wonder when i paddle over if the doors are open. imagine chairs still touching floor. nice spine. shivers. things arranged. in place but dim. algae film.

there are so many schools under.

one of my favorite books says plants birds and fish leave the same marks. fish take to the sky and flowers are mistaken for birds. etc.

it's a man-made lake. what they call a reservoir. the strangest thing is it's unswimmable. cattle shit and die there. deer ford. boats spill. oil casted glassy nets. but swimming is forbidden.

i've been in. the mud is thick and sticky.

wellidy. must to sleep now.

beautiful sunday...

sock monkeys. the arcade fire. neighborhood #3.

i may soon (within the next few months) be visited by cute little relatives. late night call from taiwan. yay!

some were big some were small...i went out into the night...

the little house...

this morning's anthem: how to flout the abacus. a little string from my dream. that and the color: sterling.

what i want most right now is to touch bellies with concrete floor. very july presently. but the heat is dry. no air conditioning at chez mary. means prop the windows after dark. trap the cool then. begin again each evening. but there's an hour where nothing can be done. only thinking. maybe ice chips in glass.

enjoying: the little house-- her story by virginia lee burton. i adore these sweet old illustrations.

the little house was very happy as she sat on the hill and watched the countryside around her. she watched the sun rise in the morning and she watched the sun set in the evening. day followed day, each one a little different from the one before...but the little house stayed just the same.

i'm going to investigate this virginia. she may have more to adore.

fish!

at the front of the bus a man-child.

this banana tastes like fish.

(from across the aisle) what?

fish. banana tastes like fish.

(again) what?

fishfishfishfishfishfishfeshfeshfeshfeshfeshfeshfushfushfushfush...bananafish!

(yet again) what?

FISH! (disgruntled aside) wildcats...this pen is dead.

in my head it's trout are very valuable and immensely powerful keep away from the trout!

and to the back of the bus:

behind the 'frigerator there was a piece of glass
miss suzie sat upon it and broke her little asssss-
k me no more questions
i'll tell you no more lies....

and hand clapping. and giggles. giant girls of a young age. the volume of hollywood meat-slammers. i mean foley. otherwise that sounds not quite right.

thought i saw lightning above the lawns. a woman with a flashbulb trying to secure the moon. crept away as she saw us.

i actually said in a wooden matrix. of course i was mocked for it. i argued against balsa wood. interior doors are soft.

mockingbirds in stereo. hilltop. not an echo. rivals. or mates. dunno. several weeks in a row now.
take those three as you like. long or otherwise.

i hear the tumble dry. it's a good sound.

'night.

cherry tomatoes. five of them ripened. nail size. i ate them all. so so sweet.

brown rice tea. cold sunrise. washingtonia. tricks with numbers. dog ear tickled my lower back. lps. commute. the deep nap. electronic letters. fireflies. mares of the grass. mares of the moon. yours.

will sleep happily now.

register...

say cardoon with a rolling rrrrrr. instant scot. they are fluorescent at dusk. wire stems and great height. bit the last threads between my teeth. faintly artichoke. very thistle. the brushes register like other flower odor. flowery.

left the blind up. lamp on. moths came. a tree frog too. trembling throat and pale bellied. couldn't see the faces. across the windowscreen. one after the other minus mounts. it gets lonely. away he leaps.

the father stopped unexpectedly. hauling water. i showed him the old teak bowl i scared up. it's pretty and cracked. he spoke of decks and holystones and said why do they call them holystones i don't know. i don't know i said. and i don't.

along the tracks someone cackled (happily) but at that hour it was a spooky sound. spring steel and thumbnails too. metallic dog voice.

a daylight owl on the fence arrested us. it was a false owl so we walked on. and just now the paper owl resurfaces. colored paper from age five that says who-who-who am i? who-who-who? and the slot for my name. the bold hand.

they found a body in the river tonight. with suspicious injuries to the head. the news. for lack of celebrity and ribbon cutting. turning any channel is not an option. technological lapse. why i prefer turning pages. the jargon at least still aligns.

the same mare. same soft nose. loyal until the end of the oats. love the smell of dust and horses. bag balm. fly ointment. tube steel rails.

pet...

the sister and i went for a long walk before sunset. a mare came out to greet us. black eyes. dark mane and white lashes. long forelock. flies. the soft end of her nose.

from under the bridge violet-green swallows. first blackberries. produced a plastic bag. the sister stopped picking to watch the birds. i stopped. we almost fell down. she said no wonder everything is covered in shit. and i said they make daub nests. pointed into the concrete cave.

buckle. betty. cobbler. crisp. whatever you like. and coffee. black.

someone threw a brick through the old folks' window. shitty. i picked a magnolia. it smells like lemons or roses why. also pale milkweed. claws and stars.

jam was a success. plum.

i'll have to rip back the sock. trying to graft amidst noise. no go.

last night dreamt of a friendly landgoing horseshoe crab/prawn creature. a pet. it made me quite happy.

a moth in the sweepings. a dress form to the shed. these are similar.

to bed.

enjoy...

such a wonderful little parcel arrived. sounds of ice water. walking maps for pleasure. and walking maps for patterns. and a wee little note. so kind. thank you, j. thank you very much! i'm enjoying the sound very much. i'm enjoying it all.

i had a nightmare about the bus crashing into an lpg rig and flames. a cooked kitten. earless. mewling emerges from wreckage and wants my lap. hideous nightmare induced by the bus ride i had endured during the day. they'll let anybody drive a bus. i swear for god they will. and then i woke this morning (another beautiful sunrise) and the radio saying things about distress in london. suddenly i wished i was still sleeping.

now you know why i like musicals.

say it loud and there's music playing say it soft and it's almost like praying...

or even

the rain in spain stays mainly in the plain...

well. i'm going to sleep now. fingers crossed. sweeter dreams.

soup...

tonight's walk was good. the people with the basket left zucchini. incredibly large. usually that spells bitter. but the last one from that source was wonderful. i stuffed it vegetarian-like so s.b. could eat it too. it was tasty. also filled a bag with plums. tart! and i'll make my father some jam this weekend.

he visited today. i said science folk i've known have been odd. sometimes in a pleasant way. they're gems. and sometimes in an unpleasant way. they're machines. and my father said he'd once met linus pauling. father was at the house of some architect friends. and pauling spent the entire time talking about soup. claimed he made the best french onion soup in the world. a big claim. but you know he was quite the chemist. so. anyway the soup has a secret ingredient. he gave my father the recipe. i like that pauling talked about soup. i like that story.

i bought socks today. quite a lot of them. i wish i could knit socks faster because then i'd knit all of my own. store socks are pretty but the heels run through in no time. and they can't be darned. or at least i can't darn them. handknitted socks i could darn.

pico de gallo last night. my hands still burn from all of the pepper slicing. cilantro is so very very good.

found epazote growing in my tomato patch. it must have volunteered from the last bit i planted. so nice.

sleepy now.