Friday, October 10, 2014
I don't have a title for this post
If you'll forgive the possibly distasteful metaphor, I feel as if I'm in an iron lung. I need air and movement. The interminable construction site that is my street and the surrounding area fills the air with whine and hum and hammering -- perhaps also a metaphor for my own complaining, So here's some gratitude: the only part of my garden that isn't dead and brown is the path leading to the side yard where we keep the garbage cans, and that little sliver is just gorgeous. Here's a photo, no filter:
Here's a close-up of the purple flowers on the left:
And that's bougainvillea that is squeezing through on the upper right -- no one planted it, but it's determined to flower there. I noticed yesterday as I drove through Beverly Hills that they'd finally stopped watering the median on Burton Way. It's a wide expanse of green flanked by some ultra fancy hotels and shops, and I always found it irritating to see sun-illuminated sprinklers watering at any time of the day. I guess the fancy folk have decided to join the hoi polloi and endure dead grass in the name of conservation. Hallelujah. I sure wish it'd rain. I wonder when the rain dances begin -- didn't Governor Rick Perry of Texas declare a state-wide Pray for Rain day? I'm in if it works, although I'd prefer some kind of dance, too.
What are you reading? I'm reading a very interesting and good novel by the English author Elizabeth Taylor. The book is called Angel, and is not just beautifully written but weird in just the right way. One of the friends I visited in Chicago the other weekend, probably one of the most well-read people I know, recommended it. I hadn't ever heard of that Elizabeth Taylor, and while this friend doesn't know me all that well, he apparently knows me well enough to have suggested something that I really, really like.
Evidently, I need air, movement and inspiration because this post is going nowhere. The only thing I can possibly say for it is that life here at a moon, worn as if it had been a shell is an ongoing conversation. I'd love to hear your thoughts. What are you reading? What are you listening to? Is it raining where you live? Every time you hear the word ISIS, do you think of on the fifth day of May, like I do?