Words (more than these) are coming, Jawan Koo's soundtrack to THE VILLAINESS (such a great film) is in my ears and, other than my tool bag falling on my toe which made me scream and nearly cry, I'm ok, a new week, etc etc etc, devoid – so far at least – of large construction projects necessitating another person being around. Unrelated yet pondering: given that it's been almost ten years since THE GOLDFINCH, aren't we due for a new Donna Tartt novel?
The 131st MacroParentheticals dispatch, in which my good friend Uziel Colón subjects himself to being my first guest on THE GROUND LOOP, my newsletter-exclusive Proust-meets-Lipton-meets-me five-question grilling of friends, inspirations, and other assorted humans, will be arriving in subscribers' inboxes in +/- 45 minutes. Also: THE SUPER MARIO BROS MOVIE is a delight.
The weeds upon the hill have been weedeaten and, unlike yesterday, no lifting of riding lawnmowers was required / leaving to play in the poison ivy patch (seems to be a thing this week; haven't gotten it yet), I gave portable Switch RDR a go and LOVED it. Charlie the dog and I took out a ne'er-do-well before he could abscond with a horse at MacFarlane Ranch / finished the edit of the first GROUND LOOP mini-interview, premiering in Sunday's newsletter. Think I enjoy the format / grilled hot dogs await.
Learned that the sweetest sound ever is the sound of a downpour outside lacking in the accompanying sound of water flooding into the basement. Basement repairs so worth it... Also: started RDR on Switch last night and, other than its janky controls which have carried over from the original and an inability – though maybe I simply haven't found it yet – to doff my hat at passersby, it reminded me why I love the game so much; my crush on Bonnie MacFarlane remains intact – and now, portable... Random notion: would love to have a weekly or bi-weekly or monthly column somewhere else (again). No clue about what but there it is, cast adrift in this, our connective ether.
All construction is done: no more windows and doors held together with tape. Presently basking in the glow of a door that shuts without throwing my shoulder into it.
A caravan of at least four monster trucks, on trailers, up the road. Purple, blue, digital camo, and ... the fourth color (rust?) escapes me. Afterwards, a person on a zero-turn riding lawnmower pulled into the gas station to fill up their tank, a local phenomena around which I'll never be able to wrap my brain: wouldn't they waste more than the convenience's worth of fuel driving the lawnmower there and back?
When you decide you need a new first question for the first interview of your new mini-pod the day before said interview and you end up changing all of the questions to flow from that new first question and it gives your new mini-pod far more life than you had previously imagined.
We have a side door. And two new windows in The Paintshop. And two new basement windows that aren’t blown out by floodwaters and held in with boards, cardboard, sprayfoam caulking, and tape. All that remains is the trim and pretty-ness. Victory.
Towards a begrudging acceptance and perpetual reminder that my writing method is far more chaotic than the OCD parts of me (not nipped by meds) would like, consisting mostly of staring at and iterating random snippets until they start to congeal into something worthwhile, a process of processing – usually in my weird hybrid script/prose draft-form – that takes far longer that I'd like to happen to happen. Hoping to get in my second workblock this afternoon, especially if they're working on the side door and basement windows and out of the Paintshop – though I'm mentally prepared for it to be at least Thursday until I get something of a semblance of space and time and solitude. Glass block guys are here and, of course, the basement windows aren’t standard size…
Day one of window project is complete. New window is in and dogs are generally contained. Presently fighting with the shelf above the side door which is getting replaced (the door, not the shelf - but I won't be surprised if my efforts in removing it require replacement of the shelf: oh, how I love painted-sealed screws). Glass blocks not in place so I've improvised another failsafe window until they can be. Yet to break out in poison ivy: would be the first time in 42 years if I do. Trim and seal and door and glass blocks tomorrow, apparently.