Day Eight Rice Fast

What a nondescript day: gray and flurrious as I watched the market crater on schedule. And, dang, after screwing my courage to the sticking place, that 3x bear fund didn’t move up a wit–in fact, the bloody thing moved down. This makes me suspicious and “superstitious ’bout my jam and bread.” Is it the hand of Geithner punishing the fiendish shortseller? Oh, well, tomorrow is another day and China and India are fainting as this is written.

After market, I absently cleared bits of Arthur’s stuff –Moving some piles hither and thither to make way for photographs. Shot and photo-shopped the daylights out of a chair and a table – making ready for Craig’s listing.

It is evening and the moon is just a slim canoe aching for an owl and a pussycat. The sky in New Mexico is vivid and different from any I can recall. I can’t remember ever seeing just the bottom fraction of the moon lit.. Down in Corrales, the big dipper is distorted and about 3AM, here, Orion’s belt drifts at a jaunty angle slowly arcing northwest.

We did not make it back to Best Buy, today so no cranky philosopher from U. Texas in his music man suit is going to lecture about existentialism tonight. I sort of miss Sister Wendy and her artful nattering but mostly I miss the color and beauty as an antidote for cold and dark of January.

I think I miss coffee and wine more than food and continue to marvel at how otherwise un-hungry I am.   The idea of continuing beyond 10 days is therefore appealing and a possibility.

Still waiting for a “message.” of which way to go and when to.  “If a woman knows not what harbor she seeks,  any wind is the right wind.”  Seneca

Author: diane e. dreyfus

on the road until they put the lid down

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