She’s sick of herself and everything she touches. So I noted.
In early March, while we were still living in town: Sometime today, water began filling the irrigation canal along the hill and the new massive house where the sun destroyed the grass now has all of its sprinklers spraying no matter their son playing professional football.
Apparently, we were visiting the Dolphs at their new orchard.
we are all nearly homeless
hoping for anchors
within our own time
[or: attached to our lines]
CHRONIUM DOWNPOUR
~*~
On 3:IV:77, started a new journal notebook, Vol. 48, Progress 100 sheets, 12 ½ by 8 inches college ruled … tan/kraft cover …
As I recorded, “It’s all here in the solitaire deck — the origin of statistics — all those crazy rules I never quite understood in statistics class — so obvious here before me — bell curve, for starters — the addiction of hands, feel of the shuffled cards, the electric knowledge that there are still undealt cards, in the random orders, with the anticipation of the one that will do it. The sense of yet unmoved faces that could make this hand go down, yes this one, will do the trick. And all those maybes — balance, in numbers and colors, highs and lows, latent moves — aces, kings, and deuces … it’s all there …”
[So I was getting hooked to the game long before I’ve thought]
Palm Sunday, partial lunar eclipse of the full moon. [Are lunar eclipses always full moon?]
Getting her back into the Sunday bed, long, languorous love-making, continuing past climax, slow and warm, in many positions through the morning …
That afternoon, at Gils’ once again sensing the futility of trying to find “the good life” in alcohol and horses, Whiz so loud, Wisteria’s conversation so much about things, my trying to extricate from books and type into my whole-self … back home going for a wind-fighting bicycle ride, my leg muscles taut …
Whiz trying so hard to make everything loving, caring, brimming with feeling — somehow reflecting a fear of his own empty hunger …
Hmm, like that phrase “empty hunger” … in contrast to the stone?
Gil had a cat named Mousetrap …
~*~
On her birthday, the first of her rejecting me because of her painful vaginal/uterus itching …
Do I blame pantyhose?
~*~
Saturday before Easter …
Earlier notations of impending drought now come to the fore …
White apple blossoms already open, earliest ever; prior record was 20th of the month. Now the fearful frost watch …
Everywhere, irrigation sprinklers squirting, using the water while they can …
~*~
Realized how much Whiz and Wisteria ape us … for instance, buying a chess board when neither of them plays. In two weeks they’ll act as though they know the Olympics once we’ve said we’re here …
~*~
Nothing much grew there without irrigation. Here’s one major canal diverting water to orchards from the small Yakima River, essentially snowmelt from the southern Cascades Range mountains. Water rights are a legal issue largely unknown in the eastern half of the U.S. My political science guru Vincent Ostrom was an authority on the matter. Finally, it was registering on me.
~*~
Early June:
Back from Tinowit powwow
dancers in angel wings
and Allan Ginsberg’s 50 already
The thinners — man and three women — floppy sun hats, loose dresses waving in the breeze — coming down from the ladders for dinner, chattering in Spanish, their movement like a dance
Also had just read Ecotopia the first time …
Late brunch today at Frasu’s at the airport (I didn’t get out of bed till one) — champagne part of the deal. Stopping to see Wisteria, Abell’s grown, rolls sideways, barks at dogs, cows, birds, and cats, and plays with balls. Laughs at subtle surprises, like when it’s caught or bounces on his head or disappears. A pleasant Sunday afternoon.
Learned how Hamilton lost his watch — gambling with a subject. Then tried to buy a new one at Penney’s, “Like to look at a Seiko under $35,” but the clerk just walked away. Next day he returned but the clerk wouldn’t accept his check. Called the manager, who demanded three pieces of identification before approving the check. At which point, Jeff took the watch off his wrist, said “Wait a minute, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve been treated rudely,” and then took his check back and ripped it up. The clerk looked wounded, as if “not me.”
~*~
From Spiralbound Cascadia with commentary.
Jnana's Red Barn 