Mobility

Dug the car out, drove in and out of driveway. No longer snowed in.

Powdered snow. Easier than the ice last time.

Now Sunday ... can we get to play?

Still snowed in

Such is life.

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Let it snow

Morale booster

To hear from my South American director/collaborator on hyperdrama, reminds me how the Internet saved my ass, led me to hyperdrama interest around the world during neglect at home.

"What an honor to hear from you," wrote a European scholar I contacted. Impossible to imagine an American saying this to me!

At home, "I get no respect." I mean, it's become a punch line.

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Snowed in

No problem. However, Sunday my play closes, want to be mobile.

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In Pdx, this is all it takes! I have no shovel.

La Cloche #3

We are getting there.

Low on fuel

What happened to my passion for reading? For writing? Feels like too much work lately. Not a permanent condition, I hope.

My only recent passion is baking bread. Strange.

Let it snow

I cancelled the day.

Long day

Glad it's over. Too old for long days.

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Crazy day

Kicked out this morning so house can be shown ... lunch at backup retirement center ... doc appt for H, who is having dizzy spells ... all this with Sketch with us.

Crazy day.

Worth repeating

H.L. Mencken wrote in 1920, "On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire...and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron."

Boring politics

I can't recall a time when politics was so predictable -- and so boring. Given the apocalyptic issues facing us, this is unfortunate. But there is no debate or discussion at hand, it's all ideological pronouncements delivered to those who already agree with you. The world ends in a great frenzy of political masturbation. It would be hilarious if the riot wasn't taking me out with it.

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Cheese bread

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Baking II

I began baking in grad school, primarily bread the traditional way. Then several years ago I discovered the popular artisan bread book and no-knead baking ... and here I am. I'm hooked but also striving to improve. I'm getting pretty damn good.

I want to return to short fiction. First, review the past 100 years.

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Little things

To improve bread experience: better bread knife, linen bread bags, European flour.

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Baking

I love baking bread so much, at Russellville I hope to find half a dozen customers for weekly loaves, at cost. Best therapy I have -- and these days I need it!

H's son called last night. She couldn't remember that the sale fell through. Man, it's a delicate situation.

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La Cloche #2

A tad longer uncovered, even better re crunchy crust. Does everyone prefer this? I do.

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We have to stop meeting like this

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Ah Sketch

Woke me up. Sometimes he just wants company ... so he can go back to sleep.

Since I'm up, might as well bake bread. La Cloche #2.

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Buttermilk

I make great bread, now better than ever, and some special dishes, like paella and today's blackeyed peas, but perhaps best of all is my ... buttermilk. A cold glass suggests so.

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The capitalist progression

Spontaneous & chaotic --) ordered > commercial & hyped

I've seen, and lived in, this progression time and time again.

Berkeley 1959, before the Free Speech Movement, home to an extraordinary and creative street life ... becoming politicized and ordered ... becoming gentrified.

The World Wide Web, late 80s and early 90s, wide open and exciting ... becoming ordered and catalogued ... becoming a 24/7 shopping mall and leader in the triumph of opinion over knowledge.

The profit motive is the great destroyer of institutions honoring the inner life.

Kitchen as cathedral

Slow roasting turkey legs, simmering blackeyed peas ... A busy kitchen. A sane place in a mad world.

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Project

I need a low key project to occupy my mind during this long transition. Not writing. Reading.

Picked up the anthology "100 Years of the Best American Short Stories." Cover to cover, chronologically.

This annual collection gave me my first official encouragement as a writer, making their Roll of Honor in 3 of 4 years in late 60s, early 70s. My response: abandon fiction for drama.

Resettled, I may return to short fiction, end where I started, full circle. The reading will energize me -- or not.

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La Cloche

A baking stone with a lid. The moist unkneaded dough creates steam during its spring rise in the oven.

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I approve

La Cloche makes a crunchier crust, a caramel color. A keeper.

Comparing crust

La Cloche

First loaf in the oven. Curious!

xxx

So far, so good. Improvement of crust is the advantage, says party line. Looks great!

Morning relaxation

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Jackie: Fact or Fiction?

Asks the Washington Post. Happens every biopic. I gave my take decades ago.

Writing the History Play: why dramatists lie in the pursuit of truth

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Season 3

Mozart in the Jungle! Rewatched everything, finishing 2 last night. First rate entertainment, great music.

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Just because

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Army-Navy

This Saturday, a ritual growing up that I continue as an adult, missing my parents, ducking the scorn of progressive friends ha ha. I make blackeyed peas. Can"t recall how that started.

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My cousin approves

Deemer-licious bread!



And imagine an even greater level! That will be the attempt with the clouche.

It begins

Mellow

Why does "bad news" make me mellow? Maybe because nothing changes ha ha. Our realtor is totally with us on this. If we stay here all winter, so what?

No sale

We rejected the laughable post inspection counter offer from buyer. Back on market. No safety issues but they wanted fancy elec additions paid by us.

Waiting for the storm

Nothing yet. Disappointed if a noshow. Good excuse to do nothing.

Meatloaf

My best ever?

Ground lamb and turkey, yogurt, catsup, eggs, bread crumbs. Very tasty, nicely moist.

No excuses

There's a zillion theories about why and how Trump got elected but it's depressingly obvious why: millions of my fellow citizens prefer his ignorant loud-mouthed lying sexist racist conniving manipulative egomaniacal undisciplined bullshit to the other choices on the ballot. Q.E.D.

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Big game!

Conn v NDame, women's bball, #1 v #2, today.

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Begin the day

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Winter

Big storm coming, we may be snowed in tonight and tomorrow. Take care of business early today.

I thought retirement was now in order. Wrong. More forms to submit. Today, before the weather. Ah me ... Will this "transition" ever end?

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Bread

I make good bread, and many people agree. Still, I'll try to crank it up a notch: I ordered a French La Cloche to simulate a steam oven. Arrives Friday. Reviews by good bakers sold me. Also the possibility of baking in toaster oven in retirement community.

A new baking adventure!

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Money!

At last, an automatic deposit after our restructuring of retirement. I was beginning to wonder where it was. Security, or as close as we get to it. Also takes pressure off house sale. Good news all the way around.

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My shrink ...

... is Gerry Mulligan! No doubt about it.

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Good day

Baked bread, marinaded game hens, made mushroom stuffing, slow roasting, west coast jazz, napping dog, Harriet shopping downtown ... Spells MELLOW.

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Slouching toward sanity

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Old

Adventure?

A part of me hopes we sell the house with no place to go. Put everything in storage. Live in motels. Travel.

Quotation of the times

H.L. Mencken wrote in 1920, "On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire...and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron."

Exhausted

Long, busy day. Play was terrific.

Headline of the day

Hot-shooting UCLA stuns No. 1 Kentucky

Feedback

"You should be pleased ...," writes a theater professional friend who saw the play last night. I see the matinee tomorrow. Looking forward to being pleased.

Not looking forward to the "talk back" after the show. I prefer the work to stand on its own.

Philip Glass thought works of art should be anonymous. What a concept.

Where we stand

The closing date moved because the appraisal couldn't be scheduled until mid January. Too much activity, all sales delayed in town. There may also be inspection issues to resolve. Should find out end of week.

Officially the house is still "sold" but none of this is encouraging.

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Half speed

Which is an improvement. Nowhere to go today.

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Cancelling ...

... everything. Sick, stomach flu? stress?

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What excitement?

See Juniper Tavern tonight but seem to be dreading the drive more than looking forward to the play. I no longer see the arts as a positive influence on American culture. THE QUIET AMERICAN didn't stop the Vietnam War.

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Future

Who knows? But that's ok as long as our $$ is ok. Seems to be.

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Strange

I had to cancel Russellville and get back on wait list because of these new delays. Now, at best, we move late Jan. -- somewhere.

So why am I so mellow?

All bets off

At least month delay in closing, contingent on resolving issues. Strangely, this reduces stress!

Hicks on Juniper Tavern

JUNIPER TAVERN: AFTER 25 YEARS, WE’LL DRINK TO THAT

DECEMBER 8, 2009 BOB HICKS

A quarter-century after a literary landmark in Oregon, and the more things change, the more they stay the same.

http://artscatter.com/general/juniper-tavern-after-25-years-well-drink-to-that/

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Tough times

I hate this waiting and waiting for the buyer's next move. 30th their deadline.

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Breakfast, step one

BBC

Last news source left with old school delivery without hype and phony intimacy.

0-3

Lost every game yesterday but the distraction worked. A good day! Now, alas, back to normal. Critical week, much will be learned.

Full day of escape

3 games of interest back to back. I need escape big time.

Go, Michigan!
Go, Oregon!
Go, UCLA!

The day after

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Friday funk

Waiting and more waiting to get out of here.

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Rain, gloom, stress, Thanksgiving.

Well, at least some good football in days ahead.

Turkey

Made our reservations late, had to settle for late morning in restaurant out of town. Better than nothing? Good question. See how H feels when she gets up.

Stress

Up with dog, who's having bad time. I'm not doing too well myself.

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From SODOM, GOMORRAH & JONES

Thanksgiving, 1962

AS HELEN AND CJ applauded, Mrs. Stevenson set the turkey in front of her husband. The bird was golden-brown and aromatic, large enough to feed three times their numbers.

CJ had never seen anyone use an electric knife before. Instead of picking it up, Mr. Stevenson looked at CJ and asked, “Would you do the honors, Carlton?”

“Excuse me?”

“Say grace?”

CJ had never said grace in his life. He shot a glance at Helen across the table, who nodded.

“Of course,”said CJ.

Mrs. Stevenson smiled at him. CJ closed his eyes, getting ready, then opened them.

“Thank you,”he began. He stopped and started over. “Dear Lord. Thank you for the bounty of food we enjoy today and for the opportunity to share it with family and loved ones. Let's not forget the noble savages whose kindness got us through our first winter, even though we later rewarded them with a policy of genocide that--”

Mr. Stevenson bolted to his feet with such effort that his chair toppled to the floor.

“That's enough!”he said.

He was so red in the face that CJ wondered if he were having a stroke. He turned and hurried out of the dining room.

Helen was on her feet, also red but rising more carefully, and chased after her father.

CJ closed his eyes again. What had possessed him? How could he be so stupid?

When he looked up, Mrs. Stevenson was smiling at him.

“Carlton, would you carve the turkey, please? You do know how to use an electric knife, don't you?”

Thanksgiving

From the mid 60s to the late 70s, about 15 years, Thanksgiving was a celebration of friendship between the Deemers, Crooks, Bradleys, Fuquas and Richardsons, 10 adults and 6 kids, in LA or Salem or Eugene, 2 or 3 days of feasting and music making, and almost constant laughter. Unique and unforgetable. Nothing close since.

We'll be going to a restaurant tomorrow.

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Stress

Too many hoops to jump through to complete a house sale, too many things can go wrong.

In other words, waiting for consequences of inspection.

Monthly mini marketing

I subscribe to Play Submission Helper, an amazingly helpful tool unavailable in my active years. I am marketing my global warming play, nothing else, to theaters who make it easy for me: no fee, full scripts only, submitted electronically. Up to half a dozen meet these each month; 3 sent today.

So I am somewhat in the game, still.

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Zipper up

My father loved to tell war stories. So do I. Almost got carried away at rehearsal and must be on guard about this. In other words, shut up!

Anxiety

Inspectors here 3 hrs, not a good sign. But we do have wiggle room. See what happens.

Buttermilk

Damn, I make good buttermilk!

Program notes

Here's what I gave them:

I wrote CHRISTMAS AT THE JUNIPER TAVERN in the mid-1980s while house sitting in Bend to work on a different, commissioned script. The local paper was filled with the daily activities of the Rajneeshi, who were building an ashram in the desert. They had tons of money. Their guru was one year into a vow of silence.

Bend was filled with unemployed mill workers. Most didn't approve of this nearby invasion of wealth, often ostentatious.  I began brooding about two questions: what would be the first thing the guru would say when he ended his vow? And what would the guru have to say to a mill worker? Add to the mix my earlier one act about a Zen guru-clown, and the play was born.

As I watched a rehearsal recently, the play didn't feel like it was about Rajneeshi. It felt like it was about Muslims.

Rehearsal

Not only did we find the theater yesterday, it was full of actors! Met everybody, pleased with what I saw. Should be solid amateur production. Reminds me of Theater Workshop where I began, a small black box. Love those spaces.

Starting the day

Killing time

Killing time while house is inspected, decided to drive to Newberg and find the thester that's doing my play next month.

Big day

House inspection. Expect issues snd negotiation. Hopefully not a deal breaker.

Progress

Passed the sewer test.

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Moving forward

Sewer inspection today, house tomorrow.

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Quoting myself

From WHOLE CLOTH:

"I don’t wish a serious writer’s life on anyone. I agree with screenwriter Paul Schrader, who said the only reason to be an artist is that you’re incapable of being anything else. The meshing of the work and the life into a quilt of whole cloth is full of complications for every step of “a normal life,” from relationships to employment.

In America, it’s not clear what the purpose of literature is other than to be swept into a marketplace driven by star and money worship. If literature mattered, wouldn’t Graham Greene’s novel The Quiet American have made the Vietnam War impossible? Philip Glass has suggested that all works of art should be anonymous to rid the field of hero worship. I agree with him."

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Passing time

Waiting game

And likely negotiations ahead ... hoping for best ...

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What a day

Filled with good fortune. Knock on my wooden head.

Onward

Signed to accept offer, Dec 28 closing. And then massive good luck, notice given at Russellville, we were able to reserve it. Inspection and appraisal ahead, final hoops.

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Kid at Christmas

Unable to sleep, thinking of this morning and possible sale. It's a good offer, more than I expected. But less than she wanted, which I think is a fantasy.

Big day!

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Sold house?

Back from movie with good news on voice mail. A decent offer. Meet realtor tomorrow with details. Would be one week sale.

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Offer

Got a low offer, realtor working on getting it higher. Too soon to reduce by much.

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Long winter?

This is a bad time of year to sell a house. If we spend the winter here, I'll start one of my Russellville writing projects. Hoping for the best, out of here by the end of the year.

Stuff still to do and Harriet is very little help.

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#10

This afternoon. Said a realtor whose client passed, "I'm sure you'll get close to the list price." Encouraging.

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Amazon Prime Now

Love this service! Used for 2nd time this morning. Terrific for lazy, or immobile, or some of both. I'm now a regular customer.

At last, the Oregon myth revealed in national press

I thought you might like this story from The Washington Post.
http://wapo.st/2fKV8MC

"When Oregon was admitted into the Union in 1859, it was founded as a white utopia, the only state with black exclusion laws written into its Constitution — language that voters didn’t take action to remove until 2000. The Ku Klux Klan found a stronghold in Oregon well through the 1920s, and a code of ethics for local real estate agents prohibited housing sales to nonwhites. Housing discrimination was finally outlawed in 1957.

The contentious presidential race and the election of Trump, whose campaign has energized white supremacists, seems to have provided an opportunity for Oregon’s racial tensions to surface. A local high school was roiled last week after a commenter on the 2017 class’s Facebook page suggested that students create a “Ku Klux Klub.” On Election Day, dozens of students at a high school in a town north of Salem gathered with pro-Trump signs, displayed a Confederate flag and shouted comments including “Pack your bags, you’re leaving tomorrow” to Hispanic students, the Salem Statesman Journal reported.

“Oregon is very rural and racist, even though we perpetuate progressiveness,” Teressa Raiford, a Black Lives Matter protester and organizer of Don’t Shoot Portland, said Thursday night."

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Mellow

Up to bake bread, my version of going to church.

H thinks house will sell in mid Dec ... I after first of year. So neither of us is in panic mode.

And we still have her dressing room and art studio to finish downsizing.

Night

The older I get, the more I like the hours before sunrise, the less the hours after sunset.

Sketch having a bad night. When he goes to sleep, I'll return to bed.