A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Ninety-Eight

I am almost through with my quarantine, I suppose, which is good, though, as I said last night, Melissa is still going to be waiting a few more days.  I have tomorrow and then I will test on Monday and I then I can get out some.  At least it means that I can go to do some shopping, as the options for meals are dwindling.  I asked my brother to help out, but it is clear he finds it a serious imposition.  I don't even want to ask him to help out any more, especially considering that he insisted his buying a house down the street from us would be an opportunity for him to help us out if we needed it.  That is clearly another one of his lies, as every time I've tried to ask him about helping out this week, he has acted as if it is a huge burden.  Well, that may not be entirely fair.  It might not have been that way the first day, when I asked him to pick up Melissa's prescriptions, he was only a bit surly that time.  But since then, it has progressively gotten worse.  And do not think I am calling him multiple times a day or asking for anything major.  At most, I wanted him to pick up some food for us.  I can understand how he might find it an imposition, but I would hope he could understand that we are stuck at home and could use the help, but he doesn't seem to care.  It feels quite typical.  I am sure if I complain, though, he will say that I am being unreasonable.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: Neighborhood Inhabitants

Neighborhood Inhabitants There was a fox once, and another time, otters, and now a peacock that we think got lost during one of the storms. She stays down on the other end of the street, though, does not visit us. We have a racoon family that stays in our tree some nights, and there is a baby lizard, a brown basilisk, who we have seen several times. It is not supposed to be here, is invasive and troublesome to the local ecosystem, as are the duck.  I hear there are giant snails now who eat stucco or concrete or something of that sort. I have not seen one, though, I just heard they are here and big as my fist.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Seventy-Three

I am still finding it difficult to get back to a more productive work schedule at the moment.  In part, I am sure it is that I gave myself permission to slack off a bit, and it is difficult to walk that back, especially because I am still writing and being productive, even if not to the same degree. I know it would be good to get back to doing more writing, but I also know that I am still meeting my core obligations, even if at a more minimal level.  Really, I just need to make the choice and force myself to stick to it.  To that end, I am planning to at least get back to work on my longer projects again tomorrow, even if I don't increase the poetry output right away.
Read more

A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Three

I received my acceptance to attend workshop at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival next year and am very excited to be working with Matthew Olzmann, a poet whose work I have admired for some time.  He has a rare capacity for being simultaneously absurd and serious in ways that are hysterical, but with devastating insights underneath.  I feel quite fortunate to have the PBPF, and can say, honestly, that each workshop I have attended there has been incredible.  As a person who has taken many workshops in my life, and who often finds them wanting, I am always astounded at the caliber of the classes at the festival, both in the instruction and in the community of poets I have encountered.  I only wish it could be more than just one week out of the year.
Read more