Alas and Alack

Durer's Little Owl

My wireless karma has finally given out and I am left with no internet connection until I pay for it myself (I knew this fateful day was coming up).

Thus, entries will be even more sparse than normal.

Though I should mention quickly that I spent the past weekend completing a lovely puzzle and thinking about how much I love activities like puzzling or gardening or even a game of solitaire. I found my mind engaging in little drifts of thought, moving about quickly and not resting anywhere for very long. It was a wonderful stretch and quite refreshing.

I also purchased a lovely little hand-carved wooden owl charm, a vial of amber-scented oil, and two blank cards printed with vintage-looking pages out of a naturalist's handbook: How to Identify Mushrooms, and Cloud Formations. (I have a tendency to collect little things, scraps of paper, printed cards, lovely pencils, thin volumes, tiny figurines, &c.).

Saturday evening was spent watching Rear Window at BAM and then deep in conversation in a sad but convenient midtown bar. On the big screen and as a member of an audience, the film became even more thrilling, amusing, and beloved; and I fell a little further in love with Grace Kelly (I watched To Catch a Thief on Sunday night to prolong the feeling).

I was about to end this post when I remembered the order I placed this weekend for a copy of Dylan Thomas' Quite Early One Morning. In the story "The Crumbs of One Man's Year" there is a line I have always loved: was a message from the multitudinous nowhere to my solitary self.

A fitting phrase for these unaddressed epistles I think.