by dishpantheism


the datura has been chopped to the nubs. the frost would have finished it in another few weeks anyway. it’s just as well the hatchet beat the frost. the leaves smelled of poison. the seeds pods were spiky. it had grown large enough that i could walk beneath it– a treeling. when i walk out into the yard at night now there is a conspicuous emptiness where it stood. i went there a few nights back because there was a storm on the horizon. i had gone out to the shed for a cup of ice but i stayed to watch the storm. it came from the east. it came silently. the lightning came without thunder. it came without rain. they call that “dry lightning” i learned. the black cat was unimpressed when i revealed this fact. he is not easily impressed.

the house is very silent. all the niblings have flown to new digs. i am pleased. i have missed the silence. but i find i also miss the niblings. i suppose i should savor the calm as it won’t be long before my own spawn are bawling at all hours. still.

visited with the father briefly. he talked about terry and the pirates and sang for me the opening songs of his favorite childhood radio shows. i told him i ordered a book for him that he has been wanting. he’s 81 and wants to learn swahili. i think the book will not be sufficient. i’ll have to try yet again to get my father to use a cd player (or ipod!). i collect dubious endeavors.

i’ve been reading about macedonio fernandez. good stuff. i will attempt to lay hands on manera de una psique sin cuerpo in a few weeks. it looks a little tougher going than silvina ocampo’s work. perhaps i need that.

every time i pick the black tomatoes they seem spoiled by vinegar gnats before i’ve even managed to get them in the house. i’m drinking a cup of hot cider as i type this and one or two vinegar gnats have already appeared on the scene. a last hurrah before the frost gets them too? dunno. i don’t know how they keep getting in. it’s perplexing.