44 days and counting. It is perfect here. Ivy is kind, considerate, non-intrusive, generous, uncritical, loving, relaxed and cheerful. All that I could ask. I am lucky to be here. I am grateful to be here. I have relaxed my brain and live in a semi-stupor, drifting from bed to back deck (sunny and private) to long drives to big box stores where I walk around and look at stuff. I marvel at the amount of stuff we have here. I rarely buy, saving my $ for after I move. In the interest of maintaining a modicum of muscle tone I park my car at the furthest end of the lot and walk to the stores. I have adapted. I can do it. I read, watch TV, watch Netflix and browse. It is rather like living in another world. I don't even mind not sleeping any more. At night I float at the border of sleep. I imagine sleep as the ocean and wakefulness as the world above the sea. I am suspended where they meet. Sometimes I am slightly below the surface of sleep, sometimes waves wash over me and I am not sure where I am, but I am content. I don't get furious in the middle of the night because I can't sleep. Sometimes I worry that I won't be able to return to the alert world after I move, but I am unable to think about that very long. I am unable to think about anything very long. That's okay. Last night Nora Ephrom died. She was 71. I think, I could die: I am old enough. Yet I don't feel near dying yet. I wonder if people do feel it coming. People who drop dead of heart attacks. People who were previously keeping on keeping on. I painted part of the deck today.Listened to Davidly's radio show from Berlin yesterday. Lullabies and readings. I liked it. One drawback to this peaceful brain state is that my brain won't create. Or maybe it hasn't learned to create in a peaceful state yet. We'll see. Meanwhile, 44 days and counting. 30
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44 days and counting. It is perfect here. Ivy is kind, considerate, non-intrusive, generous, uncritical, loving, relaxed and cheerful. All that I could ask. I am lucky to be here. I am grateful to be here. I have relaxed my brain and live in a semi-stupor, drifting from bed to back deck (sunny and private) to long drives to big box stores where I walk around and look at stuff. I marvel at the amount of stuff we have here. I rarely buy, saving my $ for after I move. In the interest of maintaining a modicum of muscle tone I park my car at the furthest end of the lot and walk to the stores. I have adapted. I can do it. I read, watch TV, watch Netflix and browse. It is rather like living in another world. I don't even mind not sleeping any more. At night I float at the border of sleep. I imagine sleep as the ocean and wakefulness as the world above the sea. I am suspended where they meet. Sometimes I am slightly below the surface of sleep, sometimes waves wash over me and I am not sure where I am, but I am content. I don't get furious in the middle of the night because I can't sleep.
Sometimes I worry that I won't be able to return to the alert world after I move, but I am unable to think about that very long. I am unable to think about anything very long. That's okay.
Last night Nora Ephrom died. She was 71. I think, I could die: I am old enough. Yet I don't feel near dying yet. I wonder if people do feel it coming. People who drop dead of heart attacks. People who were previously keeping on keeping on.
I painted part of the deck today.Listened to Davidly's radio show from Berlin yesterday. Lullabies and readings. I liked it.
One drawback to this peaceful brain state is that my brain won't create. Or maybe it hasn't learned to create in a peaceful state yet. We'll see.
Meanwhile, 44 days and counting. 30
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