Ruminations, mostly editorial
Low stakes diversion
January 29, 2004
Before I forget —as I edit Syracuse and compose an application letter to the American Enterprise Institute in response to its ad for freelance copyeditors— and given that the business is proving short lived indeed ... What I think undid me definitively was a melodramatic exit in the middle of the night.
It was a Saturday. I had opted to stay home the entire weekend to catch up on work. The weather was wintry. He had work one day and inventory the next. We had a dinner invitation on the middle night. I declined, he accepted. I suggested that he spend the night here so that he could enjoy the evening out, eliminate two hours driving time, and get to work at the required crack of dawn. I would be working, it wouldn't affect me one way or the other. He agreed. He appeared, then, about 11 o'clock in the evening. We had a brief conversation. I went back to work. He went up to bed. Round about 3 am, after I'd fallen asleep on my work, he appeared fully dressed saying that he had to go home because he couldn't get to sleep upstairs and needed sleep. Rapid calculations on my part yielded: 2 hours driving time makes 5 am, 1 hour showering makes 6 am, 1 hour sleep makes 7 am and presto the rest of the night is shot all for 1 possible hour of sleep versus 3. The boy's in a sulk, said I, and went back to sleep. So it proved. End of story.
January 29, 2004 8:31 AM | Add comment | Read comments (0)
Death of a flickertangential
January 28, 2004
The bird lay on its back alongside the road, dark wings tucked neatly in, the underside of its tail feathers bright yellow, beak long and narrow, creamy white chest feathers freckled in black. "A flicker," I said, as my sister picked it up gently. "The woodpecker family," I added, pointing to the small red patch on its head. But how it had died and come to lie there among the leaves in the subfreezing cold of mid-January, we could not tell.
January 28, 2004 8:50 AM | Add comment | Read comments (0)
Truth of the mattertangential
January 15, 2004
I can take him or leave him. Would perhaps that it were not so, but here we are and there we go. He's nice, he's pleasant, he's sweet, he's attractive, he's sensitive, he's considerate. The cats like him. He does the dishwashing. He appears at the door with wine glasses and a bottle or two. He hikes, he runs, he plays golf. The music, as it were, is soothing. But it doesn't stir my soul. And there we are.
January 15, 2004 6:53 AM | Add comment | Read comments (0)
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