Friday

Woke up to a dark, wet, and now, blustery morning.  A month's worth of rain in two days.  And I need to clean up my garden today and tomorrow.  It's my own doing of course, I was hoping things would ripen a bit more (tomatillos, for one), and I haven't had time to get back since last Saturday.

On Tuesday (the nicest day of the week), took the ferry out to Bainbridge to visit with friends, I think it's been four years (!) since I've seen any of them.  Caught the boat home as the sun was dropping low, fog lingering, water calm, and a relatively quiet ferry ride.  Gliding back toward the city, only an outline in the fog, but always visible, as was the Mountain, there was a sense of sailing into the unknown, like being at the edge of the known world: serene, yet desolate, and a pervading sense of melancholy, that took me a day to shake, even though I walked off the ferry to go have dinner with another group of friends.  Ah, maybe it's the weather, the time of year, the season of Scorpio, the silence, the sense of impending loss (real or imagined.)  Again, the idea of what am I waiting for, why am I holding my breath?

Cooked dinner for some college students on Wednesday, and by the time that was over, the melancholy had lifted.  The result of action, I think; and giving.  We made chili.  It was edible, but would've been improved by more salt, and a longer cooking time.  Also, we made way too much.

Did my first "activation" of the sculpture work last night.  I watched the second group, they did the same pieces, I think.  Watched to see how they determined when to take it off, you do everything at the same time.  Also, I found I wanted mostly to look at the people, and not at the form itself, had to train myself to look at the overall shape.  I'm signed up again on Saturday, as part of a public lecture.

There are a ton of shows I want to see, lot of friends doing work right now.  I really need to get off my butt and audition.

Cheers.