Yom Kippur. Things wrapping up. Today the day I finally am to deposit The Three Checks, like the Three Pequod’s masts, which have not been deposited since the beginning, in over a decade, Ship of Perseus Like, which I think of on seeing that sinkhole on the WR/Glebe median being finally and emphatically plugged: another loose-end to the narrative tied up.
Trying to think of what to atone for and can’t think of much, yet what drives me to keep looking is the imagined expressions of incredulity and mouth agape outrage and disgust of those with complete information (Kierkegaard in my imagination) saying to themselves he doesn’t even know… He doesn’t even know ??? Certainly carbon use today is the slave use of yesterday, but that is a comfortingly impersonal abuse, which I’m relatively removed from; And I do think of things that point to spiritual rupture, a feeling hollow and scared, to which I can give no name; and then things which seem too obvious and which I guess are the things to start with — (only “I have to see reality first.”) (A frozen electron cloud is how we should view a piece of writing, the electron that thing a writer shoots out and calls his writing.)
Woman up and down hill multiple times. An ambulance. Woman doing yard maintenance: weedwhacker-on-fence sound, striking it then not. Professional gal living alone in the nicest home of that stretch. Dave’s passing around here, maybe couple days previous. I don’t take friends’ part enough: Generating bad metaphors, trying to find some poetry in myself; things I will do for it; false; a leafy twig having fallen on the newly mowed lawn. The sandblasted denuded look the landscapers give to these lawns in autumn. Relaxing to see a yard yet leaf-covered and unscoured. Leaf litter on the curb here where a pile had been: the green plastic rake marks in its dust and fragments, the white remaining claws of concrete.
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 