Saturday, October 23, 2010

Oh me oh my; who's going to mark my time? Good question. I don't feel as though I have much to report this afternoon but this line from a Robert Plant song on KZE this very moment made me sit up & type. Marking time, as though marks on a prison wall, line line line line cross, line line line line cross. Thank you for beautiful Stella the Artist, Will, KZE. Towels in drier (yes I know, not hung outside to dry). Heavy jeans washer in wash, also drier-bound. Washed my hair this morning and used shampoo and conditioner. I enjoyed D. Browning's piece in the Times about middle-aged women and the cultural proscription against long hair. (I do like her writing in general - except that she's just so darn virtuosic and sorry I just balk at that - but I do like her - why do I feel so ambivalent towards her? And the Ian McGilchrist library hardcover, uncracked, stares at me reproachfully - The Master and His Emissary. No that's not what I mean at all, D's very much on the Good Guy side. How is it she has so many girlfriends and at least one wonderful sister? Perhaps she's a bit of a surrogate imaginary older sister to me, four years older. I am scared of 55, I am a bit, and I never ever relied on my looks. Now I lean on them more heavily, actually like the way I look. (I used to handicap myself crazily, unnecessarily - I so lacked any kind of credible guidance, loving common sense.) Anyway, my hair is on the long side now - not as long as D's, but long for me, and about as long as my hair can be without getting all thin & flat. But I enjoy it so, it is truly a sensual pleasure to have it fall about my face, curl up on my shoulder, be able to pin it up if I like. Ms. Browning says her Madison Avenue hairdresser says to eschew shampoo, just wash with hot water every so often. I'd heard that advice before and a few years ago tried, but gave up, truly my hair seemed lank & dirty after a week - I couldn't bear it. But my hair was shorter at the time, maybe that was the problem.

Big pot of Sicilian Spicy Chicken on the stove, rinsed the capers but not the olives. Went for a walk at the conservation area. All the leaves are falling. But it's mild, today anyway, once the sun came out, in the low 60s, a gift. I baked an openfaced apple pie today, with apples from our tree, each fruit a bit glistening brown at the center, touched perhaps by frost in recent days. Leonard Cohen is on now, Tower of Song. I really like that low, low basso sound, like Tom Waits'. Oh but suddenly his voice is higher - we'll never ever lose it again. And now his voice is lower again - I'm crazy for love. Master, and Emissary. No -

I hope whoever and wherever you all are, whether long hair or short, wrapped up in a wet suit in the ocean, or naked doe-like in a hot shower that you are well happy and full of full of

loving embraces


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