i wrote to a man…

by dishpantheism

i wrote to a man about renting his cabin in the woods. but it has been rented already it seems. sigh. it was quite rundown anyway. but i think right now i'd feel an affinity for such a place. another that i had looked at some months back is for rent again. it isn't a cabin but it is in the woods. it's availability gives pause though. either a fortuitous coincidence or sign of unseen problems with the place which point to frequent tenant turnover. i dunno. i have time i suppose. but i don't like waiting until the last minute. sets my teeth on edge.

father visited today. it was his birthday. he's now been around for 79 years! wow. and he's still one of the most brilliant people i know. yay father!
it was hot and muggy this afternoon. i nodded off unintentionally. but i did so enjoy the accident. now i'll never get to sleep though.
in the wee hours of the morning today (before i'd finally managed to sleep) i brainstormed. i scribbled furiously in my notebook about old family stories and about strange things that have happened to me over my relatively short life. i filled about four pages. that's a lot considering how very little i've been able to write in recent years. and most of what i write now is nonsense. it has to be pared. leaves nothing much at the end. but hopefully the remainder is worth something. the distillation school of writing i guess. start with hundredweight rose petal end with .5ml absolute. or reduction school. start with 40 head of cattle and end with demi-glace. i'm exaggerating of course. anyway. it felt good just to be doing something. makes one feel useful. i don't think i get quite enough of that.
wellidy. adieu. 

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