And water lies plainly
By Laurie Sheck
Then I came to an edge of very calm
But couldn’t stay there. It was the washed greenblue mapmakers use to indicate
Inlets and coves, softbroken contours where the land leaves off
And water lies plainly, as if lamped by its own justice. I hardly know how to say how it was
Though it spoke to me most kindly,
Unlike a hard afterwards or the motions of forestalling.
Now in evening light the far-off ridge carries marks of burning.
The hills turn thundercolored, and my thoughts move toward them, rough skins
Without their bodies. What is the part of us that feels it isn’t named, that doesn’t know
How to respond to any name? That scarcely or not at all can lift its head
Into the blue and so unfold there?
I have nothing at all to report except that the fans are still blowing, the ceiling still has holes and the cats are still not happy. Thursday morning the guys from the company that set up the fans are coming to take them away and examine the drywall and wood to see how much more will have to be removed and replaced. Friday morning the insurance claims people are coming to look at their work and tell us exactly what is and is not covered. (They sent the company with the fans, so restoring the carpet padding and ceilings at least will be covered; whether the carpet itself will be covered and various paint damage is another question.) I was supposed to have lunch with my mother and friends, but that obviously will have to be postponed. Adam, at least, felt well enough for school.
I half-watched a lot of TV while trying to get various things done on the computer and in the living room which is piled high with boxes and furniture placed at odd angles to accommodate the fans and dehumidifiers. Pushing Daisies was terrific, better than last week I think, reminding me alternately of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and A Series of Unfortunate Events -- it has a very British feel, and I don't just mean because of the Jim Dale narration. It feels very weird to be laughing so much about people dying, but somehow this series makes the macabre appealing without any floofy afterlife/redemption scenario. figured the body bags were going to be an excuse to let Ned and Chuck kiss, but really the high points of the episode were the revelation that Emerson is an art school dropout and particularly Olive singing "Hopelessly Devoted To You" from Grease while the cleanup guy, with headphones on, dances around her. I love Kristin Chenoweth in this, and Anna Friel sounds like she was born here and doesn't look so anorexic since she and David Thewlis had a baby.
Bionic Woman would be losing me entirely if Katee Sackhoff wasn't so mesmerizing, but she's not in every episode and Michelle Ryan doesn't have her intensity -- she either seems a little flat to me or like she's trying too hard, though she's generally appealing and I like her relationship with her sister. Of course, it might help if I had been paying more attention. I wasn't completely focused either on South Sydney Story, the first two episodes of the series about Russell Crowe and the South Sydney Rabbitohs -- which we get on Versus, a cable network I had never heard of before -- but I was entirely entertained anyway. All these players who look like NFL linebackers and Russell cheerleading his way through the purchase and early practices, getting the guys to say "I love you" to each other. Oh, Russell, you never fail to entertain me!