Friday, June 06, 2008
New Day, New Location, and Yard Maintenance
Moving my tent away from the bird feeders, as well as the change in weather, actually conspired to help me sleep in a bit today. Not to jinx it, but the neighbor's dog has not come out to plague me with incessant barking. The kitty chronicles continue--after the big asthma bustout of yesterday, my histamines are on super mega high alert, so now anything that could remotely be considered an allergen is something I'm responding to. Pollen? Check. Dust? With the wind, check. Standing in the house? Triple-word-score, baby. In addition to the lungs, I'm sneezing and have no skin under my nose anymore.
The change in weather has brought out a new feature of the tent--that of solar collector. With vent flaps open and all, temps would mount in the tent to rival a parked car in a sunny lot, as I found out after a brief nap.
We went off to a nearby nursery to check out plants to put in the now-cleared flowerbeds, and in my walking around the place, found the following planter, which I could swear I've seen on some blog or other. At any rate, it bears a very striking resemblance to Iraq War Cheerleader and Fox News fixture William Kristol. The consciously pot-like plant growing out of his head was a nice touch, I thought.
Dad appears to be good for work in the morning up until about eleven, then all action stops until 4. If this schedule holds, I'll be having a lot of time on my hands. I'm hoping I can get my hands on a bike so I can get some exercise and actually see something of this town. It'll also allow for marginally more exciting pix than i've taken so far.
In reading news, I'm about 10 pages from finishing The Street of Crocodiles by Bruno Schulz and I have to admit I really don't get it. He writes rather like Kafka, with that dreamlike unreality, but i'm not sure what he's satirizing, if he is satirizing. The short stories all interlock, rather like Kate Bernheimer's do, only without so much of a sense of trying to be fairy tales. There is arresting imagery, but I'm just not quite sure what it's all going to. It kinda seems to be about memory, kinda about the dead of the Lost Generation, and kinda about technology:
"It was not man who had broken into the laboratory of nature, but nature that had drawn him into its machinations, achieving through his experiments its own obscure aims. [...] According to [his father's theory], man was only a transit station, a temporary junction of mesmeric currents, wandering hither and thither within the lap of eternal matter. All the inventions in which he took such pride were traps into which nature had enticed him, were snares of the unknown."
This also seems to fit in, if I remember correctly, something similar spoken of in the James Hogg novel, which I unfortunately left at home..Illl have to check on it when I get back.