Edgar ... Allan ... Booooo!!: October 2019

10/27/2019: Up about 5:30 AM. Prayed, catechism, Bible. Showered, dressed, (coat and vest; it was 44 degrees), then off at 7 AM. When I was crossing by the bank, I was surprised by a greeting from a little old lady passing me by, also on the way to church. Church pretty full today; it was a school function, so not only kids but also their relatives. After Mass, got some holy water. Walked over and bought some tea, which I had just enough money to do. Came back home, limping rather, and drenched in sweat, as it was now warming up.  Ate breakfast/lunch. Reading Poe's letters, where he is undergoing an all too familiar struggle to financially survive his youth and then scrabbling to make his way in the literary world, which turns out to be far more personal than we expect. Took a rather long nap. At about 3:30 PM go in the house and Susan gives me Pumpkin Delights, pecan pies, and bananas. At 4:30 PM watch "Saints vs. Scoundrels", the second half of the St. Maximillian Kolbe and Josef Goebbels one. A little after 5 PM am disturbed by a bunch of yelling in the neighborhood. What could it be?

Spent the evening reading some more Poe, then quit. Tried watching a few videos on Poe on YT. Po' old Poe. Only 40 when he died. His struggle to make a living by writing reminds me only too much of Mike ... and his quest to find love, and the seeking relief in drink and drugs, and the compromises with the dirty devices of the world, and the constant rejection of what he had to offer. And the weird, vicious humor that animates his writing, not always acknowledged by his readers; Mike shares that too.

Blah. I'm too full of bananas; I ate five this evening. My poor legs. They seem to just be getting worse. Does it herald worse circulation, warn me of perhaps a fatal heart disfunction coming on? Perhaps; it wouldn't surprise me. And what can I do about it, my conditions being what they are?

 

10/28/2019: Up a little after 5 AM; prayer, catechism, Bible. Got some writing done: Jocasta’s interview with Trager.

 

At 9 AM started the wash. Got the stuff to make Kameron a sausage patty and scrambled eggs, took them in, and then he tells me he only wants an apple! He eats some of the sausage and gives me the rest (I had already fried myself up a couple of patties to eat on a sandwich). Call Andy and confirm; no chicken salad today, so that's less work I have. Got Kam off at 10:25 AM, swept porch, changed load, and went in. Connection had been good all morning to listen to Gilbert Gottfried. At noon went off to get wash and S&A were there, cleaning Babe's rug (the last inside cat); her peeing is not getting into the box anymore. Connection poops out at 12:20 PM, coinciding with caution beeps going off throughout the land, so I expect construction is back on (it was damp and cloudy all morning). October is really zipping by now.

Between 1 and 2 PM I made the broccoli salad; yes, it takes at least an hour to prepare. Between 2 and 3:20 PM I was able to finish my YouTube shows; I keep thinking about setting down to write again but feel not the slightest inclination, if also an urge to finish Aunt Jocasta before Halloween. Grass dogs, feed pets, and start supper (fish rolls and couscous, again). Kam comes home just a little later (say 4:30 PM) than usual. I, having eaten my salad while waiting, take my couscous back to my house and prepare it with a cup of noodles. Having started Dracula after abandoning Poe, I decide to drop that after reaching the end of Harker's first adventure. 'Tis strange, but I always consider Poe as being older than me; probably from when I first read him as a boy, when his experience seemed to make him centuries older. Now that I realize he was only forty, he seems almost a brat. After the death of his beloved Virginia, he was wooing about THREE different ladies at the same time. Well, he certainly seems to have lived more life than I ever have in so short a life.

Looked back in my diary for today in 2018. I was writing Sergeant Roth. Wow. That seems a forever ago. I was still waiting for the editor to get back to me about AGODP.

From John:  I know what you mean regarding Poe - both in terms of his Mike-ishness and his relative age. I had a dream the other morning with Mike in it- I don't remember any of the details except that he had been trying to get me to go along with some scheme or another and was putting on his full charm offensive.  I decided against it, and immediately his mask fell and he turned hateful and vindictive - an occurrence that happened more than once for real- and it reminded me of that side of Mike - just a hurtful outrageous selfishness- usually the more nasty activities would bring it out of him.  A complicated, sometimes surprisingly mysterious person.  I guess it is healthier to consider the good and bad in everyone, ourselves included- painful though it can be, and know we are all weak and stupid about certain subjects and fall prey to making dumb mistakes. There would be no need for God's mercy otherwise.

Me: And I know what you mean about Mike. But then the dead all seem mysterious, once they are dead. When they are alive, they appear so obvious. They are what they are, and you think they are plain as pikestaffs, and then you find hints (sometimes from other people who saw other facets of them) that there are hidden corners you never thought to question, or perhaps never dared to, or that perhaps just couldn't be expressed. I suppose we all carry mysteries like that to our graves. "For now we see as in a mirror darkly, but then we shall see face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know and also be known." I know I have some rotten shabby corners. I suppose we'll all look at each other pretty sheepishly, ask forgiveness, forgive, have a good laugh, and then forget all about it. Mike appears in my dreams in pretty dubious and desperate situations, but seldom angry. In fact, in one he seemed rather pleased with my book. You appeared in my dreams lately: I was being chased by bears and you and Joey popped up over the brow of a hill with guns and started shooting them.

John:  That's true about the dead, isn't it? I guess you try to put people into some kind of totality in your mind, to file them away, like we do all things that are past, but being multidimensional beings, they resist such easy categorization, and we are seeing them, really for the first time in a way. I dream of Mike a lot, a couple of times a week, most weeks- and he arrives in many different moods and modes, sometimes really great, sometimes like the other day's dream. I've dreamt of having arguments with Mom and Pop that were rough, too - more so than I ever had with them in life. What exactly is that about, I wonder? Unresolved issues, I guess. Sigh.

 

10/29/2019: Up about 6:30 AM, got dressed, prayers, catechism, Bible. Made ramen. Settled down to write and got the kitchen scene with Greta done. Kam called (Susan had taken him to the dentist) at 9:40 AM and asked me to start breakfast; fried him some bacon and scrambled eggs. They got here a little after 10 AM and he went out to wait for the bus at 10:20 AM, and I with him. When done, locked up the house, made lunch ramen, and said a Rosary. Now 12:20 PM, connectivity is bad, and I'm thinking about laying down for a nap. Weather coolish, but calm, a little drippy. Rosary.

So at 2 PM I made a sausage patty sandwich (microwaved it too hard) and some popcorn, in the big house as I'm too cowardly to use mine after it sparked that day. At 4PM I grassed and fed and started supper (sausages and cabbage and taters). Kam home at 4:30 PM. He called me at 7 PM to grass the chis again, and get him: a patty, Tx toast, and 2 corn dogs. He said S&A had gone to a wedding, and I saw the supper was untouched. I am going in at 9 PM to put it away, or at least get it ready to put away when they get home, leaving it out warm in case they want to eat.

To John:  As I mentioned I am working on a new short story, "Aunt Jocasta", based on a dream I had many years ago. I am hoping to have it done by Halloween, and I hope I haven't just jinxed it by mentioning the fact. I don't know what it is about deadlines that holds me in a dread fixation as they approach, like a bird paralyzed in the gaze of an approaching serpent. At least I have been pecking away at the tale for the last few days, forcing myself down to it, and feel some confidence in the story as I proceed. I have a suspicion that I surround the writing process with a bunch of conditions and taboos and "feels", just as lazy excuses not to do it. Generally when I do apply myself, I have quite a good time doing it, so why the reluctance?

Don't know if it's the weather or the season or what, but I find myself skipping and cackling and popping off Tourette's-like quotes and voices, often in an excess of nervousness. Nervous ... yes, I am very nervous, but why do you insist on calling me mad? Just because I'm seeing moving shadows in glass doors that fall from nowhere, and now with the fans off I hear every little creak and pop and unidentifiable scuffle from outside, and, yes, from inside as well? This is not insanity, but the sudden awakening from a foolish sleep! Wait ... there! There at the window! The three-lobed burning eye of madness! Aiyeeeeee ....!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

 

10/30/2019: Up at 4 AM, and between getting dressed, prayers, catechism, Bible, breakfast, making Kameron’s breakfast at 4 AM, getting him on his way at 10:20 AM, wrote nine pages by 11 AM. Day cold and drippy; had to take towel in and out of the house to keep my shoes clean.

Took a nap until two and made a sausage patty sandwich for lunch; mayonnaise is really too salty to go with the sausage. Popped some corn. Day still cold and cloudy but not so wet. Feel that I'm in a good march of the end of AJ. Heard and saw the yearly flock of crows pass over the back yard.

Blah, blah, and so on. Reheated stuff for supper. Had a leftover sausage at 8 PM when I cleaned up, and they gave me a roll from Whataburger. Rosary. Bed at 10 PM.

 

10/31/2019: Halloween. Up at 3 AM, wrote down dream, started writing on AJ. Dressed, prayed, catechism and Bible at intervals, and by 7:30 wrote "Happy Halloween, Aunt Jocasta". I am a short coda away from being done with the first draft. Pausing to eat.

Wrote the coda; sent copies to John and Kenny a little before 9 AM. Peeled Kameron's apple at 9 AM. Now making myself some stuffing. The day is bright and clear, just as I predicted for Halloween in AJ before the sun even rose. I am in that happy little handful of hours where I don't feel obliged to work on any writing. Went in at 10 AM and got Kam off to school, after standing with him near at the end of the driveway. Came in, cleaned up, and now it's 11 AM and time for a nap.

John replied at 2:19 PM: Ah! Now it feels like Halloween! Well done, indeed.  Reminds me of Bradbury in his ghoulish mode! Of course being a fiendish fan of such concoctions, I deduced the twist; but the buildup and payoff was masterfully constructed- and the bit of Samuel's offing Greta did surprise me nicely- a gruesome sauce on top! Thanks for the Halloween inspiration! 🎃

About 7 PM Andy brought me out the traditional Halloween Sonic corn dogs - 4 of them, with a bunch of mustard. Yummy! Rosary, and early to bed.

Spent the day with no writing. At 3 PM grassed and fed animals, then waited on the porch reading for Kam to get home. He came at 4:30 PM and I took all the broccoli salad for supper and turned in. About 7 PM while I was saying the rosary Andy came in, gave me the rest of the pecan pies, and said I could have some of the stew from his dad's party. I said tomorrow. I went to bed about 9 PM.