Last night, as I drove home into the setting sun, I listened to a bit of coverage of the Republican National Convention on the radio. I felt bleak after hearing those chants of "Lock her up."
Or did I feel bleak for another reason? I spent parts of the day looking for good quotes for the frontispiece of my chapbook--yes, the production schedule is at least 8 weeks behind. So I did some reading in recent climate science books, and I found some good quotes, but man, that reading is bleak.
So this morning, I resolved to do some life-affirming activities.
I've been trying to cook a pot of black beans for several days now--they are the world's most recalcitrant black beans, so resistant to heat and softening. I am resisting the urge to make a metaphor out of these black beans.
I've been wrestling with two poems this morning--it's been a more successful experience than the one on Tuesday. I'm still not back to my best poet self, where the words flow and the images surprise and delight me. But I didn't feel as creaky this morning.
I wish I had more time this morning. I want to bake bread. I want to write a bit more. But my leisurely morning is coming to an end, and I must get these chapbook galleys in the mail.