It's 2:20 a.m. in Shokan, New York.
I'm sitting alone in a small room,
Listening to the raindrops
on an aluminum downspout outside my window
and the hum of a refrigerator near my bed.
Just back from Montréal and Austin
two conferences back to back...
Now preparing for two more, Urbana/Champaign
Waging a soft war with ants and spiders,
by keeping dishes clean...
Later this morning I will treat myself
to french toast.
Returning to this blog with a bit of remorse
after a few months absence.
Perhaps I should just turn it into a hiking blog?
My canoe is on the car, ready for more
paddling and plucking.
In Montréal, the question was posed:
"What is the meaning of 'working class' in a
I raised my hand and proposed
that we extend the title "working class"
to other species...
This is the only picture I took in Austin:
In Montréal and Austin I spoke about pile driving
how it was a ubiquitous sonic presence in early industrialization.
A particular impact sound, when you hear it,
you know what it is. Maybe you even feel it in
the soles of your feet.
And just my luck, when I arrived in Montréal, just
Two blocks from the hostel,
(you could hear it all over town):
(and now it was for this
and would it but I should forget
if ever I or it
could flow through, for of in
but this would never be
to time or light
on spin of space and deft
include, and then it could
seem to say....)