rlbourges

Round and round it goes, where it stops, nobody knows

In and other spirits, Animals, Artists, Hautvoir, Local projects, Sanford Meisner on May 18, 2016 at 7:41 am

This post as a favor to myself i.e. getting the swirl of yesterday’s events in some kind of order.

The five (5) cheeses sitting on the top of my mailbox, for instance, when I came back from the two sessions of coaching. (What vowel do the words torchon and cochon have in common? Poupée and poulet? etc).

Between loading the washing machine, seeing the rental agency about the power issue, answering the phone while buying a few bottles of mineral water, getting a boy’s exam paper typed up and photocopied, and making it to my front door again: the swirl remains.

Back home, then, with the hope of emptying the washing machine so the clothes could dry, I’m met by one (1) person with a stack of administrative papers, summons and Final Notices we dump on to the table in the living room. The sorting begins while another person shows up with cables he wants to check out on two (2) photocopiers he’s picked up in a sidewalk sale. While he toils on the floor, the cheese-bearer shows up with his two sons. We are now six people and one large dog in my living room. As one Fats Waller once sang: the joint was jumping. The cheese-bearer’s two sons had shoes with built-in rollers they wished to demonstrate. As for the cheese-bearer – a personable Gitano in his early thirties – I’m still unclear on what all the cheese-bearing portends in terms of special requests in the misty future.

A long and pleasant pause on my neighbors’ terrace. Sun, geraniums and tales over chilled white wine followed by grilled steaks. Followed by a list of agenda items for the to-do list. It was close to midnight when I got around to a bit of reading, then, sleep.

Dreamwise, a lot went on during sleep time. The most persistent dream image being of a long and steep cast iron staircase and of the dreamer, standing at the top and the precautious approach to it. At the foot of the stairs : a busy street scene and the figure of an androgynous black person, singing something operatic to herself/himself.

Will take this day as it comes? I’d say that’s the wisest course.

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