Monday, April 4, 2011

Day 29

One more day till 30.  I've now committed to 60 days, however, since my friend John has offered to match me, for the next 30 days.  Dez?  Might you consider joining in?  I for one would be fascinated to learn what the day to day life of a high school history teacher is like.  Really.  Consider it.

* * *

Twice a month we have a woman come to clean our house.  When she does, I take the Bink to a kennel to be boarded.  (He does not do well with strangers in the house).  Usually the drive to the kennel (the Bink contained inside a quivering black duffel bag) is one of whimpering and self-pity.  Today, however, he was  quiet.  He doesn't seem to dread being boarded any more, which is a minor triumph.  Unfortunately, I also learned today that our kennel might have to close in May.  The landlord wants to raise the rent.  That would not be good.  It's taken us three years to accustom him to this place.  God only knows how arduous the process of finding a new place will be.  And, we're planning a 10 day vacation in June.  Argh.

Two new nicknames for the Bink: Wigwam and Oingo Boingo.

* * *

I usually take a break from writing one day out of every seven.  The last two weeks, though, I've gone straight through, without a single break, and right now my mind is tired.  I don't think what I'm reading right now helps.  I'm not putting anything good inside my brain, and so nothing good's coming out.  (Another art v. craft distinction: the former generates new ideas.  The latter does not.)  So, abandoning Ballard and Wolfe for a while, I'm going back over some old favorites.  This morning I read a few stories by Chekhov.  One that particularly stood out was "At Home."  It's about a lawyer who comes home to learn his seven-year old son has been caught smoking.  Nothing much happens; he tries to explain to him why smoking is 'wrong' and then, feeling that that's failed, tells him a strongly moralistic fairy tale about a king whose only son began smoking and consequently died of consumption.  The boy finally registers that he shouldn't smoke, and the father stays up, after the son goes to sleep, regretting that he's told such a sermonizing story, and pondering the nature of familial love.  It's quiet and unadorned and strangely powerful.


Barbara Carlson said...

Look forward to two (2!) blogs to read daily. Can I continue to make apposite Comments every day on two (2!)?

You be the judge.

Dezmond said...

I am strongly considering it. I just need to make sure that I will be able to keep my word and actually do it daily for a month.

ANCIANT said...

The thing to bear in mind is that you can write only one sentence. The point is just to write something. I always imagine, when I start to write, that I'll just write a few things, but then it seems to build. Point is: have very modest goals.