8.9.05

the past few weeks have been a deadening time. in my isolation i'm becoming convinced that everyone in my life has lost sight of who i am; as a result, i'm trying to review who that is. i don't have anyone to bounce myself off, to define my lines. the edges are getting blurred, though only a bit. my self consciousness never disappears entirely.

in my survey of who i am (that is, my survey of the facts about me), i've reaffirmed many things. i discovered one new thing: i really, really like webcomics. not everyone, i've realized, likes webcomics to the extent that i do. i know a lot about them. i've been reading some of them for a long time. jeffrey rowland is one of the very few people i don't know that i'd like to meet. and i would like a drawing from john allison, possibly with a british witticism written on it.

the garlic is hanging from hooks out in the mudroom. it is too hot to do anything by nine am. mr. perry wears plaid shirts and a fisherman's hat everyday; at eighty years old, he chops wood every morning, regardless of the heat. i wrap paper towels around gin and tonics to keep them cool, then drink them in the hammock, reading. i worry about things. i hit my snooze alarm ten to fifteen times in the mornings and then, later, anticipate stretching out in bed as my back starts to hurt, bending over the sink while i do dishes.

if people feel they know me, i would be curious to know who they think i am. i am suspicious of misinterpretation and blameless ignorance on a grand scale.