Saturday, October 29, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
I got a large newsprint sketch pad for a basic drawing class I'm taking. having opened up room here (put books away), I could bring out my easel and set the pad ready. I've scribbled images upon, in passing as it were. I wrote into the images of the 1st one I did, and shall do so for the several so far ensuing. it seems like a useful readiness. ensconced in the basement as I was, I didn't like having my congas with me there, not that the cellar was so damp but anyway. but here, I can have them at hand. I could be banging away to "Love Me Do" even now, except that I'm tapping on keyboard. perhaps you see my point...
Thursday, October 27, 2005
replaced my lost camera. I've become habituated to having one. if I bring it with me, no matter where I go, I'll find a picture. I mean, it is just as exciting to have it ready when I'm just going down the street as when I'm travelling out west. since I got it last december, I looked forward to those points in the year, Xmas, 1st of all, spring in flower, the summer garden, the autumnal change. I've hardly thought of the artistic potential of it, tho I ought. I've mentioned afore how I like Stephen Vincent's usage of pictures on his blog, the pieces the writes to accompany his pix. the pictures contribute to his walking theory. I've yet to establish such a framework for the pictures I take by maybe I'll stumble on something. meanwhile, I'll take as many pictures as I can.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Monday, October 24, 2005
Sunday, October 23, 2005
I lost my camera, which just seems so dumb. I don't think I was even careless with the thing, but I can't find it. and so there was a golden glow in the treetops yesterday morning, wild clouds at times during the day, a subtle tending toward autumnal colour (late turning of foliage which, I know, will not attain the full drastic spectrum this year), and mopey rainy landscapes, including a sighting of the Charles River looking brimful, all in the time of saturday. but at least we're getting the new digs settled. we had friends over friday night--bring your own chairs--and treated them to a late meal because the oven's electronic mysteries have yet to be fully comnrpehended. inviting people into the abode inspired a rush to find storage places for boxes and such that had collected in dining and living room, so things suddenly are more homey. Beth mentioned that we couldn't find needed bookshelf bracket thingies at Lowe's, and our friend said oh just go to the lumberyard down the road. which we did, where the clerk said of course we have those. and we needed more shelving too. this place was clearly in contradistinction to the dump of a chain hardware store to which we (unwillingly) go. the place is chaotic, the help surly, and checkout is slow. Beth (who has an appreciation for wood (Appreciation for Wood is, I think, the title of a nifty book by Eric Sloane, not yet unpacked)) asked for oak. the clerk checked the computer and said there wasn't any, but there's poplar. can I look at it? asked Beth. the guy directed us outside to the yard itself, get one of the guys out there to show you. we step out and a fellow immediately asks if he can help. he takes us into the grand shed and shows us a plank of poplar. Beth says in passing that she really wanted oak. we've got oak, says the guy. Beth said, but the clerk in the store said you didn't have any. ah, they don't know, the man sighed. Beth sees red oak, which is exactly what is needed. the guy tries to call over to the store for a price check but no one answers. another yard worker comes over, they exchange jokes about the store crew, try again to get a price. the 2nd calls over: ah, Houston, we have a problem... a gas seems to be leaking out of the module... well, we want the red oak. Beth goes back over to get stain while I wait for the guy to cut the wood. as I'm bringing the wood back, Beth comes out, having paid. the 2 guys with me were curious about the price of the red oak. they see that the invoice has the initials of someone who isn't working today. which guy was it? they wonder. the grey haired guy. the tall one or the short one? short. they're supposed to use their own initials, we're told. a 3rd yard person joins in. they're annoyed that the store clerk didn't go to more trouble to ascertain what was in stock. the 3rd guy even goes in to chide the perp. it is good natured but a divide was evident. I worked for a wine company that had both retail and wholesale license. what had initially been a cooperative effort between retail and wholesale developed into an antagonistic one, as the store was in competition with the venues where the salespeople might sell the wine. at the lumberyard, the people in the store wore uniform shirts whereas the yard folk didn't. whatever the tension between the 2, our experience was pleasant. and the only point of this tale of lumberyards is that I got more books out of boxes. living the Domino Theory, for I needed shelving to get the books out, I needed to get the books out so I could get another bookcase out, I need another bookcase out so I can get more books out, I need more books out so I can get the spare bed out of the garage into the den, and so on... and really, the point is seeing again all these books out and somewhat organized. a delight, and then some.