when the red red cardinal comes bob bob bobbing ...

 

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Yesterday. 


Its almost nine and my guests are still zzzzz. It’s raining but bright white out there. Maybe yes, maybe no. For the past four hours I’ve had coffee and wrote, went down to the water, took pictures, read an interview between Chaka and Joni, watched a little news, finished a book and read some old magazines about George Floyd. It’s one of my last mornings and gotta stick with the plan of sucking all the juice out of it that I can. 


I am reading Art Spiegelman’s MAUS, the subject of M&Ps doc in progress - Jules Feiffer says a remarkable work, awesome in its conception and execution … at one and the same time a novel, a documentary, a memoir and a comic book.  brilliant


7:27 pm damn. I forgot what I wanted to write in here.  Maybe it will come to me. I thought it was important … oh, yay, I remember … seeing a cardinal … I quote ... the sight of a cardinal holds special meaning. They say the vibrant red bird is an uplifting, happy sign that those we have lost will live forever, so long as we keep their memory alive in our hearts.


We watched Beatles vids - Ringo shaking his swingin' mop top - yeah, yeah, yeah. Watching them on Ed Sullivan gives me a Pavlovian response more than some - new pop sound, new pop days, surprise, mystery - step this way. I stepped. Was a time to write home about. 

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