Or a Bit of This and Some of That
I’ve started this newsletter several times.
First, I thought I’d write about the fact that I just voted for the first time in my life, and what it meant, in that nebulous out-of-focus way I have of defining my certitudes.
Then I thought, no, I’ll write about the surreal conversation I had the other day with a seller-of-something, but then thought I ONLY ever have surreal conversations with sellers-of-everything, be it cosmetics or creeds.
Perhaps I’ll write about the radio and TV shows I’ve recently been on, thought I. Shows which I rarely actually watch what’s wrong with me do I need my head examined what’s the big deal, and the ambiguity I always feel about this business of expressing myself. But then I thought, if I don’t watch them, how can I talk about them, so gave that idea leave to go.
Or maybe all the amazing things that I’ve been reading lately in my research for Lost Worlds, but then my good old conscience strode in, punched the clock and told me in no uncertain terms that any writing on THOSE subjects should be to an eventual editorial end, and put the cap on it.
Righto, thought I, I shall do what I’ve been meaning to do, write something about the exhibition coming up in Saint-Ursanne, but the official site is way ahead of me.
There’s a couple of local historical themes I’ve been meaning to touch on I mused, about imprisoned kings and forlorn campaigns a couple of centuries ago. One of those would be worth doing, but the muse had been talking shop with my conscience and that too was that.
Or maybe my preface for this fall’s Beowulf would stand in for me, but then I chickened out and decided not to pester the editor so far ahead of publication date.
Or a comment on the sudden realization that I completely missed my mid-life crisis and that if I want to still have one I better damn well hurry up, but then thought no, too busy for that, perhaps I can postpone it a decade and thus live to be a hundred and eleven.
Or something on the nature of angels, which has been just on the edge of vision for a long time. (Angels fly because they take themsleves lightly – how I wish THAT little phrase was mine and not borrowed from a more eloquent source.)
Or something more practical: Standing in the Ends of Rainbows For Dummies. A manual on the creative use of meteorology for romantics incurable, but not seeking medication thank you.
Then I thought, how about something simple, like or rocket science or the global repartition of gabbroic strata, but then I thought nah, too easy.
I dwelt briefly on the possibility of a short resumé of eternity, (but only briefly).
Mayhap the Minor Mishaps of Life in the studio; the Incident of the Tilting and Toppled Palette and the interesting inkmarks that now individualize my best jeans, or the Final Gasp of my trustworthy airbrush (may it rest in peace, wherever it is that airbrushes go), the brief “why me?” moment, followed by the unexpected joy of actually finding a distributor here in Switzerland, which restored my confidence in the law of probabilities, at least for the time being. But who wants to hear about that?
Or my stack to mail, which I had reduced to nothing with such application and diligence, but which is now several inches high again. (I swear letters breed like rabbits when the lights are out.)
But none of those do a newsletter make.
So, in the end, I’ve decided not to write a newsletter.
Nevertheless, given that the secret to achieving one’s goals relies largely on the lowering of one’s expectations until you literally trip over the summit you set out to scale, it looks like I’ve got one anyway.
EARLY BIRD
One of the merits of arising before the sun (one of the few merits, actually) is that you can be wherever the sun is headed at about the same time. Despite my earlier musings (and for lack of those bumper stickers, at which I draw the line anyway) I did not manage to pull off the road (no shoulder, tailgating semi-trailers, you know the problems of the great-views-glimpsed-from-behind-the-wheel) for the most beautiful views, but managed these:
 |
 |
 |
 |
My favorite time of day. All that’s missing is a grey wizard in a hurry.
