Rendered Fat Content


Utagawa Kunisada: A Man in Nightly Rain (1835 - 1836)

" … in need of some Drizzling to remind me what I was trying to accomplish …"

Yesterday reminded me why I'd planned to finish repainting The Villa's exterior before full summer visited. Working in at best partial shade with an almost fierce sun beating down upon me, I found no escape from my labor. I shifted into one of my many dissociative states, the one my father taught me about long before I turned eight years old. I tucked my head down as if that make me invisible and worked, forcing myself ahead, step by step, insisting that I finish. I can become quite the taskmaster sometimes. My neck turned bright red as the sun found its inexorable way through or around my havelock's shade. I sweated through my overall bib.

Afterwards, I sat in shade rehydrating with beer and wondering what I thought I was doing here.
This work, too, seemed to expand beyond my grasp. What started as a stretch forced ever greater extension, stretches stretching ever further. I have not yet relented, I'm still reaching, but I'm also wondering now if I haven't envisioned an objective too far removed. I went to bed without my supper again, a state I seem to stumble into after overdoing. I do not finish hungry for a well-earned supper, but sleepy and in almost desperate need of dreaming. I dream vividly then, reliving and reframing and projecting outrageous allegories, imagining an always ambiguous future. It's almost as if I'd stretched up and absolutely out of this world and into an alternative one.

Before dawn, though, I notice consciousness returning. Molly The Cat is standing by the side of the bed, right near my head, just watching me awaken. She's been out catting all night, as evidenced by the fine mist beading up on her back. The whole universe seems to be inhaling, a deep gasping breath of Spring while it's still dispensing. It's Drizzling, a gentle counterpart to yesterday's sun's fierceness. I'm reprieved again, further delayed by rain, but I probably really needed a break. Four fierce days might properly culminate in a morning sheltering in place from fierceness and future, a throwback morning respite.

Molly's brother Max finally tucked his shoulders into his ruff and fled outside for his morning ablutions. He's rarely dissuaded from escaping, regardless of the weather waiting for his appearance, for he's a trencher. He excavates shallow graves in the garden before crouching then filling them back in again. He's an enthusiastic digger and an appreciative one. He doubtless remembers the rocky Colorado chert he was born into and probably praises the relocation which abandoned him in this relative Eden. I'm reminded, too, by the passive drizzle, how we'd never intended this place to overwork us. It was supposed to provide light entertainment, slight diversions rather than over-exertions. I have shown myself to take my commitments too seriously sometimes, and in need of some Drizzling to remind me what I was trying to accomplish before that fierce summer sun caught up to my efforts.


Birds Of The Field
Fridays do tend to creep up on little cats' feet, with only the slightest thump as they jump down off the windowsill before slinking in to stare me down as I'm waking up. I'm never ready. I almost always struggle to find anything worth writing about on Fridays and dread the effort needed to summarize the waning week's effort. What kind of an ending demands even greater investment just after the assignment's finished? I somehow managed to produce another seven stories, a couple of them, genuine gems. I almost recall just how unlikely that outcome seemed just one week ago this morning, but somehow the stories seem to show up when requested, when really needed. I'm reminded of how the birds of the field thrive.

I began my writing week with windows wide open in
OpenWindows. "It's a genuine wonder anything ever gets done, but when OpenWindows season comes, I'm reminded why I begin."

No sooner begun than stalled, facing yet another in an apparently never-ending series featuring
YetAnotherRainyDay. "A slight delay won't make much difference."

What a great and under appreciated gift the
ApparentlyMeaningless, the most popular posting this period. "Most of the magic in this world began as ApparentlyMeaningless work, produced beneath some utterly banal context, but context shifts and tends to take even apparent meaninglessness along with it, injecting it in some odd moment with the purpose it never before possessed."

How many forms of mindless have I mastered and who's counting? I caught my mindless self
WashingMyPhone this week. "Different tasks require different trances and varying degrees of that magic mindlessness, and it can be a real challenge to shift and then switch back after completion."

It seemed to me that much of whatever I claim to be doing actually involves much
SideTracking. "I can only be one place at once, though it seems I cannot quite manage even that sometimes."

I can't always see or appreciate how I'm suspended here in the middle of
TheAges. "I think it a marvel that TheAges so far have all been populated by people who were probably just about as clueless as I've proven to be about living. Nobody apparently need necessarily be all that masterful in their manner of living, all that conniving, all that clever."

I realized when re-reading this week's writing that I'd prefaced this last story several times in the preceding stories. This final one made explicit what I'm really up to here:
Penance. "The vibes one holds when engaging in work tend to stay around as the permanent top coat once it's finished."

By my count, only ten more stories remain before I'll be forever finished writing Reconning Stories. I still find myself astounded that I manage to finish even one, but then those Birds Of The Field kick in and I re-realize the great abundance surrounding me. Believe me, I'm no farmer, but more of a hunter-gatherer, but even then, I specialize almost exclusively in gathering low hanging fruit. I can find inspiration in an OpenWindow or YetAnotherRainyDay, in the most ApparentlyMeaningless tasks, like mindlessly WashingMyPhone. My profession seems largely SideTracking, but for TheAges. There's something enlivening about performing proper Penance. Thank you for continuing to tune in!

©2022 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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