So out of the habit of blogging. The back injection was harder to take this time than usual (I think) Thursday is very fuzzy - I barely remember it after I got home. Dossie brought me to the pain clinic and I do remember them giving me an extra dose of whatever it was into the vein, as I was cussing and had trouble staying still for the needle. The clinic is trying a new thing where they play you music on request during a procedure so I asked for Bach. How do you spell it? Nurse very puzzled. Then the one thing I remember other than Dr. Pham telling the resident, You have no idea what is about to happen here and me laughing and then cussing my head off. In the middle of it as I got calm, exclaiming, "Oh, Brandenburg Concerto number 3" and feeling clever to have any brain cells at all.
I can't actually remember getting in the car or getting home at all but I believe Dossie must have got here and then Milo was here as well so.... ?
Not sure if it is worth it. Some times I feel better immediately but this time I have been in an annoying (semi incapacitating) level of pain at the injection sites from Thursday to Saturday. I had to skip a nice board game birthday party and a punk rock history movie. Very quiet weekend alone. Rosa came over for tea and to pick up some things - I haven't seen her in a while. I am somewhat functional but in small bits and without bending over much. The quiet weekend has meant I am more than caught up on tidying up after myself and other people. When that happens I can make inroads on the accumulated disorder. We need to get rid of some books. Also, I think the anesthetic and sedative and steroids together made me feel strange, brainless, aimless, exhausted.
Today has been better. I went up the hill to Pinhole cafe and went through some bits of 3 different notebooks. I tried to copy any worthwhile bits out of the big black moleskine one from December into the 2 new ones, especially working on the Andromeda and Venus poems. I am fairly happy with the first bit, have lots of the 2nd, some of the 3rd but it is not quite coalesced and something to #4. Nothing on 5 (Maybe?) But the structure is more clear to me. I wrote some new snippets and copied over other parts. Found the notes I took in my lap at the actual dance performance that it's about.
Horrors when I was on my way to Dossie's office Tues. evening and realized there was NO NOTEBOOKS WTF. I got a substandard one in the walgreens (nothing else open) So here is my entry from it before I tear out the pages and pass the unsuitable notebook on. (I am too fussy, but I don't like a yucky feeling cover, or a size too small with binding too tight, as I can't think on paper well without wider space)
>>> Lovely jcab driver named Yosief from Eritrea a poet who used to write for the newspapers. We talked about the route and the pleasure of driving around to random places following where someone else wants to go (better than seeing nothing in a 7-11 as he was at first and no one would talk with him) It is other people's choices. We admired Glen Park Canyon as we drove up the street alongside.
His family's place in Eritrea is very beautiful with trees with fruit of all kinds, grapes, plums, and their neighbor had cows so they would trade for milk. The family thought of expanding the house but it would have meant cutting down some of the fruit trees so they had a big family meeting and decided not to. He feels like trees with fruit almost have a soul. You have to respect them. I added you feel connected to the land when you eat something you know comes right from it that you grew and picked.
He described how Trump is just like the dictator in Eritrea , how they fought for independence but then got a dictator for 26 years no better than before. America is supposed to be for disagreeing and discussing anything you want without hate. He has a picture he cut out from the paper of Nancy Pelosi and John Boehner kissing each other on the cheek and shaking hands which he framed and put on the wall as it is the spirit of America that they completely disagree but can at least act friendly. But now maybe things are going bad and we can't think that we are immune from society falling apart. It can happen here, and the rich and greedy are the same everywhere, they only want power and they don't care what happens otherwise. He has to call up his family and tell them everything about politics, and they try to protect him by telling him it will be OK... because they know he's sensitive.
In case you can't tell this was all completely charming and I told him how I am also a poet and translator and about Carmen's book and said we should email and send poems. I went to write down my email and realized NO NOTEBOOK and not a scrap of paper on me. This never happens! How embarrassing just when I claimed to be a writer! He put his email into my phone but then i accidentally thought i lost it when I closed the email app. But! Found it! Now, he wonders if I will help him translate a poem? I may do this (counting on no misunderstanding about a meetup)
My plan was to hang out in pt. reyes town and write and work on poems while D. was at her appointment but no notebook. I can likely buy a decent one there in the bookstore.
Middle section of poem cycle as visual play across page with form? In a cleft or split going vertically for the structural supports. Too much? Or better have it underpin every page or some pages running through the whole thing as the supports should be 100% visible. Rodin's anatomical studies for those guys in the village (aldermen?). So, either that or 3rd section would be ramp/cleft/structure and 4th would be naiads.
Thinking of the free play across the page that I admire. The comical woman crossing the atlantic communist poem, Elvira H. Carta de viaje - more free and far-ranging. That space & far-ranging wide freedom has to underpin the entire Descent cycle. Consider also American Air (together with carta de viaje, atlantic, ibarbourou atlantic poems, in its own little book?)
Note, add Florentino book to ebook list for Burn This Press. Nearly forgot it.
Punchline of this is that a day later I found one of the 3 notebooks at the very bottom of my big backpack. So was able to work after all, with notes.