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mallorys_cameraI guess service groups in Wallkill don’t believe in updating their websites because when I showed up at the Shawangunk Town Hall for the meeting of the local Democrats, once again I found the door locked.
Then it opened from the inside—the Town Clerk, obviously leaving for the day.
“Where are you trying to go?” she asked pleasantly.
When I explained, she guided me back to her office to check the day’s calendar. Since she had obviously been heading for home, I thought this was incredibly nice of her.
“Saturday,” she said. “The Democrats meet on Saturdays.”
Something about the way she said “Democrats” made me think that she plans to vote for Orange Man come next November. But I prefer to think “niceness” doesn’t hinge on political choices. Necessarily.
###
Mostly yesterday, I pushed hard on the Remuneration front. In the afternoon, there were some spectacular thunderstorms, and in the evening I saw what I suspect was the Last Firefly of the Season.
As a break from Ann Patchett, I am reading David Sedaris’s diaries. Nonsequentially! As though they are Tarot cards: I will hold the book up on its back binding and let the pages fall open where they will.
Mostly the pages fall open to descriptions of David Sedaris’s massive amphetamine binges back in his early 20s.
These are a bit mystifying to me because even back in my early 20s when I was the Druggie Queen, I hated amphetamines. There was a Dr. Feelgood attached to Wilhelmina who used to prescribe them for me—to keep my weight down because the Universe did not design me to weigh 120 pounds however much my agent would have preferred that it had. Speed produced what I can only describe as a psychic Doppler effect, like there was a kind of Doo Wah pedal embedded in my brain. Deeply creepy.
Then it opened from the inside—the Town Clerk, obviously leaving for the day.
“Where are you trying to go?” she asked pleasantly.
When I explained, she guided me back to her office to check the day’s calendar. Since she had obviously been heading for home, I thought this was incredibly nice of her.
“Saturday,” she said. “The Democrats meet on Saturdays.”
Something about the way she said “Democrats” made me think that she plans to vote for Orange Man come next November. But I prefer to think “niceness” doesn’t hinge on political choices. Necessarily.
###
Mostly yesterday, I pushed hard on the Remuneration front. In the afternoon, there were some spectacular thunderstorms, and in the evening I saw what I suspect was the Last Firefly of the Season.
As a break from Ann Patchett, I am reading David Sedaris’s diaries. Nonsequentially! As though they are Tarot cards: I will hold the book up on its back binding and let the pages fall open where they will.
Mostly the pages fall open to descriptions of David Sedaris’s massive amphetamine binges back in his early 20s.
These are a bit mystifying to me because even back in my early 20s when I was the Druggie Queen, I hated amphetamines. There was a Dr. Feelgood attached to Wilhelmina who used to prescribe them for me—to keep my weight down because the Universe did not design me to weigh 120 pounds however much my agent would have preferred that it had. Speed produced what I can only describe as a psychic Doppler effect, like there was a kind of Doo Wah pedal embedded in my brain. Deeply creepy.
