Well, the realtor contacted me yesterday and said she's scheduled a house showing for Saturday morning, so that's good news. And my band is performing tomorrow night at Pastimes in Dover-Foxcroft, so that's also good news . . . at least for me, since I love playing with those guys. And Trump is still torching himself in public, so I guess that's another sort of good news, though also terrifying.
I have been picking honey mushrooms in the woods, editing a book about the LA slam and spoken word poetry scene, trying to memorize the lyrics to the Pretenders' "Don't Get Me Wrong," listening to a podcast about Jean Harlow while doing sit-ups on the living room rug, reading a mediocre David Lodge novel, eating leftover stir-fry for breakfast, waking up at 2 in the morning, yanking frost-bitten dahlias out of the flowerbeds, trying to finish a poem, hand-washing wool sweaters, not watching the presidential debates, and driving down empty country roads in the dark. I have also been meaning to remind you Geoffrey Hill readers: Don't forget to respond to Carlene's post about "Merlin."