Some nights here there are as many bugs on the screen as stars in the sky – and there are a lot of stars – like dust blown over black granite.
Corgi dog says she thinks I’m a sucker for a stick and throwitagain throwitagain youknowyouwannathrowthestick throwit … I am now using doggie telekinesis to move your arm into throwing position throwthrowthrow…
The cats say I look like a girl who needs a sandwich and so keep bringing me late night offerings – so far I have chosen not to partake – they say suit yourself and crunchcrunch on my doorstep.
No snake sightings for a few days – my last rattler was on the way to the mailbox – hence the paucity of postcards. I wrote a poem while I waited for it to go on its way – but it rhymes, so I am too embarrassed to share it. I know you will think…”gosh I never thought Jen the rhyming sort, who would have known? How very awkward…” I ought to up the ante and call it ‘Ode to a Rattlesnake’ or ‘For R—‘ (as in ‘Rattlesnake’ – implying a sort of intimacy with her snakeness…)
Fellow residents all very nice but sometimes nice people can be a bit…well…nice. Funny how people whose intentions are intrinsically harmless can do damage – the way a blunt table edge will catch you in the same bruised spot day after day. Like one one person asked me if I was painting mimes. Some days it’s like rock-paper-scissors only I feel like I am always coming up scissors and they are mostly rocks.
This give me lots of time to donate blood to a new generation of mosquitoes or delve into studio work. Having a bothersome ‘what next?’ feeling.. How come more stuffed fingers and mouths why not something new? What new? Where new? What if Morandi had stopped painting his dusty bottles and painted his cat – or his sister? Would have been a bit sad for posterity. But are these my bottles? Maybe his sister was dusty too and we missed out?
So in the meantime it is Marie Antoinette versus the serpent in the garden at dawn…