July 11, 2017 (Tuesday)

by Yule Heibel on July 10, 2018

Rain. Thick, heavy cloud cover. A drop in temperature, but still threatening heat above that blanket. The trees lapping up the rain torrents, growing thicker, taller. House roofs mostly obscured, roof tiles wet where still visible. The roar of traffic affected by rain: it’s even louder. Just now, a half-second of silence as a break in the flow allowed for a pause. It doesn’t last, the constant thrum (and thunk-ka-clunk, thanks to the abominable roadbed condition) resumes. The pause was only there to rub in, like salt, the more persistent onslaught on our wounded ears.

This illness has me second-guessing everything. My abilities, I mean. The notion, for example, that any of the writing I do here can – could – be the basis for anything more enduring.

Rain, moisture. Wetness. I’m sitting here in panties and a short-sleeve, thin fabric (but synthetic) hip-length cover-up, which I’ve left open in the front. I’m half-naked, but sweat is beading on my back, my neck, on my upper lip, under my eyes, my forehead, under my breasts, in my belly button, in the crooks of my elbows, behind my knees, the small of my back. I’m burning up – it’s the damn virus, on its last hurrahs, perhaps. It’s also however the condition – the 100% humid weather, the suffocating swampiness; and the condition of being trapped here. I expect I’ll have to drive W. to the station this morning. Maybe it’s just as well that I don’t exert myself with a walk. Yesterday, gong-show level commuter rail SNAFUs to start the week. What’s in store today?

Not sure what to do about this book I’m supposed to review for B.M., the novel I’m now at the point of hating. I need to speak to B.B. and ask her what she honestly thinks of it. All of B.M.’s Amazon reviews are 5-star, and there are quite a few. A. thinks perhaps he has a claque and very assiduously made sure everyone would write a positive review. It makes me feel a bit backed into a corner.

I watched / listened to a very interesting interview between David Rubin (host), Dennis Prager (spelling?), and Michael Shermer about religion. Prager believes in god, Shermer doesn’t. It was an excellent discussion; I found myself agreeing with both – as well as disagreeing – at different points. I also listened to a 4-minute excerpt of Henryk Broder talking about the loss of free speech in Germany. Horrifying.

This afternoon I drive A. to the airport.

One of the only “writerly” things I did yesterday was write a long-ish screed to Z. about this area’s past-orientation (at the expense of future-orientation). We talked briefly on the phone later (because Z. is not going to commit a response in writing). I miss vigorous debate (tepid phone calls that act as blackboard erasers don’t count).

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