New Year's Day

Perhaps a new start.

Perhaps the first entry in a reader's diary. A life diary.

Drove in a chill rain to Ashton to finish grouting countertop. Began by re-reading parts of Swing Time by Zadie Smith. I finished it yesterday.

Was struck by her description of the main character's mother's speeches intending to instill pride in the downtrodden citizens of her neighborhood as "effortful light"(240).

Read about an hour. Then went to work. I regrouted a couple years back, so I suppose what I did today was re-regrouting. Don't remember it being so messy. I also don't remember using my finger so much, to make sure difficult joints got filled. I also don't remember really worrying last time about getting the lines "right," making sure they appeared solid, white and wide. Was never satisfied with the last job. Hope I got it right this time.

Went to Moe's to read a bit. Read a good New Yorker (10/17/2016) profile of the writer Henry Green by Leo Robson. The perpetually neglected Henry Green who is once again being noticed and championed. But, this work seems to have been continually picked up and dropped throughout my reading life. Perhaps Green is the perpetually noted as neglected Henry Green.

Writer Terry Southern was a champion of Greens and hoped to launch him to notice with a 1958 interview in the Paris Review. It is an odd interview. Southern goes out of his way to pitch Green as eccentric, the odd, genius artist. It wasn't an actual interview. The questions and answers were completed via mail but Southern made it appear as if the interview took place in real time, at a real place. He makes it appear as if Green had trouble hearing him and often Green comes across as mishearing questions (mistaking the word "subtle" for "suttee"). In a phrase which pleased me, Robson refers to this interview by Southern as "strenuousy oddball."

Visiting V who claims not to be feeling well and is parked on the couch in the bonus room watching Criminal Minds. Horrible. While sitting with her for about half an hour I watched one guy hack off a strapped down woman's arm with a machete and another guy kill his victim, strapped down in a bathtub, with a hammer to the head. I don't get it.

Re-certified my ICR plan. Made more sense than watching Criminal Minds, even if I had to jump through some hoops to get it done.

Darkness has descended and it stays cold and wet. Isis just asked V to take him out. V came down stairs wrapped in her blanket, bitching at the dog. Happy New Year!

And...sitting down at 6:46 to read the next book for the library's book groups, Angela Flournoy's The Turner House, an old-fashioned family novel featuring a very large black family who calls the east side of Detroit home.

I was just going to read and then decided it would be wise to start on the notes I compile for book group. I'm two thirds of the way through and haven't written down a thing. Writing down notes, compiling a version of the story, helps to find questions and establish the patterns and themes in a book.

But, I seem driven to write today. Perhaps, I'm driven by a half-conscious resolution to write this year. More? Better? I'm feeling self-conscious about my ability to write lately, perhaps in part to criticisms from my supervisor at work. Just in general, feeling not up to the many challenges ahead. These worries about abilities have caused me to dream quite a bit of late, after many years in which I can't recall dreams. Three dreams in the past two weeks stand out-one, I'm working through a swampy area infested with alligators and snakes. Just when you think you've gotten through the worse of it, a whole new host comes out of the mud and murk. In another dream, I'm on stage in front of a large audience who is waiting for me to make them laugh with a stand-up routine. I'm supposed to go for an hour and can't get started. The third dream, I just remember a part. Joseph Biden is raking me over the coals for my lack of writing skills. I'm lacking the basic requirements in this area according to our Vice President. An interesting messenger.