It's hot. And other observations...

To the gym early. Home, then office. Smoke haze over the mountain all day. Not sure if it's from our fire or the big one in LA.

Spent the better part of the morning working on branding projects for a new client. Caught up on some long overdue correspondence too. Made a few minor revisions to some story material, then back home to look after small things.

Bummed about my lawn. Heat, sun, and the lack of rain has taken its toll. Maybe I can revive it before fall. Don't know. Hard walking out the door every day and seeing the damage. Will grieve the loss of those old silver maples for as long as I live. The new ash trees have come back from the hail damage of two years ago, but they're still a long way away from making any meaningful difference.

Started critiques on two stories for N. Have read them all now, and believe none will make the cut. All were passionately written, but flawed in different ways. I was particularly taken with one piece, a story about a Yanqui rancher in South America, and it may yet earn a promotion. The second or third read will tell.

Late trip to the mattress store in search of a box spring. Sun was waning, but the skies were still hazy with smoke. Fingers crossed it cools off before the next passel of guests descends upon us.

Tired. Thinky. Sick of the heat. Going to kick back and pour myself a drink. Wait and see what tomorrow brings.

A Man for almost all seasons...

Pretty morning. A flowering of new things. Would have been nice to hold on to the cool a while longer, but the afternoon heat drove it all away. Still, three manuscripts read, more good revisions on "Man of Letters" and an unexpected conversation with an old friend.

Was told the temps in the Midwest were near ninety today. Here, too, but without the humidity comparisons aren't fair. I remember those old days as a kid, swamping through summer, the north woods sticky, smelling of mud and rotting leaves. No wonder I adopted fall as my favorite season.

Met an old timer from Minnesota in the barber shop yesterday. Told him about the mayfly infestation that used to turn Dubuque, Iowa into a dadaist work of Meret Oppenheim proportion. They would hatch on the river overnight, and invade the town. Blanket everything like fur. The next morning, the city would send out a fleet of snowplows to scrape them from the streets. The old guy nodded. He'd seen them, too. "Fish flies," he said.

Feel as if I'm playing catch-up, and I think it's because I've been stymied by the progress of some of my manuscripts. But even that, I can't trust. Solution is to keep plugging and not look back. Trust in what lies ahead.

Taking it all in...

Back and forth day. Up early, gym. Home. Away to office, and back again.

Somewhere in that mishmash, managed to catch up on correspondence, make some story revisions, and pound out concept work for a new client.

Have read three of the N stories so far. An interesting mix. Last batch had one outstanding piece, with a couple of others a near miss in terms of being moved forward. This time around, who knows? Feeling a lot of emotion in all the stories, but only one has delivered, technically. We'll see what happens.

August looks like a lost month. Visitors galore. Family, mostly, but others, too. How did I get so popular?

Weather's been back and forth, too. Mostly sunny now, but overcast and dreary mid-day. Guess there's always tomorrow.

Been writing about dogs all afternoon, and as if to bring balance to the universe, or perhaps tilt it in a more just and desirable direction, a big fat cat has suddenly leapt into my lap. Signing off.

Firsts, lasts, and in betweens...

Early goodbyes. The road trip from Salt Lake to Jackson sounded like big fun. Haven't been to Jackson in almost fifty years, and still have the scars to prove it. Lovely place, beautiful mountains.

The muse returned this morning. Much luck with the revisions on "Man of Letters." So much so, it makes me wonder why I've been plodding through the other stories. Should just shut up and knock wood, I guess. Take gifts when they're given and say thank you. Oh, and, while I'm at it, try not to think so hard.

Got the urge for something Larry McMurtry. Gonna run with it. Embrace it. Throw my arms around it. That short trip up the mountain reminded me the west is in my blood, and always has been. I need to read about it more, write about it more. Own it in the most intimate ways possible. From the stones under my feet to the sky over my head. 

Back here on earth, found five new stories from N in my box. Guess I've got my work cut out for me. But exciting work. Looking forward to reading them.

Mother called tonight. Coming in next week for a visit of undetermined length. Looking forward to seeing her. Best understanding of the matter is, she'll be hanging here for week...or longer...then ferried away to Wyoming, her childhood home. First time she'll visit here without my dad.

That's entertainment!

Early entry. Guests coming over again this evening. Had a nice time last night, hoping for the same tonight.

Restless night's sleep with a lot of bad dreams. Out of bed later than usual, but up just the same. Coffee on the back patio. Finished the last (fingers crossed) of this year's planting--a small dogwood on the north side of the brick wall--then to the office to write. Got the working draft of "Man of Letters" in order and think it's not too bad. Surprised me coming to the end. Felt like Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke when he reaches the last of the gravel road. Piece comes in around four thousand words. Expect the final ms. to run about the same.

Left for the gym around 3:00. Skipped rope and hit the heavy bag. Then home for a shower. Another hot day. Ready for fall. Anytime.

Still fighting off the blues. Maybe my thyroid's gone bust.

Objects of affection...

Big needy kitty on my lap. Head butts in spades. Writing this one handed. Not sure what the reason is, but I've been a target of love all afternoon. First yowling, then brush-bys, now this. Nice to be the object of so much affection. He knows. He always knows.

Up and out the door early. Dodged the farmer's market and went straight to the office. Got in some strong revisions on the new story, "Man of Letters." Middle feels a little messy, but it's got a strong start, and with luck maybe it'll turn into something.

Still can't quite get my head in the right place to put the last touches on the tuna fishing story. Or the coming of age story. Or the story about the birth parents. But they're close. All of them. Think it's the heat that's making me stupid, I don't know. Maybe I need to go fishing again. That, or clean the garage. Penance for a life wasted.

Looked after small things this afternoon and almost managed a nap in the process. Successes met, opportunities missed! (Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades forever and forever when I move....)

Dinner tonight with guests. Brats on the grill. German potato salad. Beer and wine and revelry!

Still worried about my buddy. Hope everything's gonna be okay. 

Friday, 10:38 pm...

Blur of a day. Gym, office, home. Out to dinner. Been going non-stop, but it feels like something's missing.

Worked on updating submissions. Lots of research, lots of time. After, put in an hour or so on the new story. 

Haven't been able to feel my way back yet. Wyoming's still there. 

Sat out on the back patio tonight, drinking wine and swatting mosquitos. Where are they coming from? Grass is burned to a crisp, but there's standing water?

Ninety-two year old dude was being crash carted out of Walter's Bistro as we were walking in. Possible stroke. Flank steak was so good, we didn't care.

I swear. I don't have an answer to anything. 

My purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars until I die...

There and back again. 

Wyoming gave itself to me. Faithfully, as always. The mountain was cool and green and beautiful, and for four full days I had nothing but sunshine and blue skies. Quiet like you can't find anywhere else. 

Pronghorn were up high this year. Nine thousand feet. Kept running across the same pair when I went out hiking. We'd stop and stare at one another for minutes at a time. Saw no deer, no elk. No moose. Even so, had a perfect moment freeing a hummingbird that trapped itself in the cabin. Cupped it in both hands, took it to the door and away it went.

Spent an afternoon on Dylan's mountain, saying goodbye to my dad. Thinking. Spreading ashes for Patrick and Caley--a dress rehearsal, I suppose. 

Read and re-read the four assigned stories from N. while up there. Critiqued them all. Then sat down and finished DeLillo's Zero K. DeLillo reminds me of Huxley, sometimes. But deeper, and with a sharper edge. His glimpses into the future are beautiful and terrifying. But his writing is perfectly in the moment. Funny, but charged. Enjoyed the hell out of what he did, and strongly suspect that, come winter, I'll be reading it again.

A wind came up one afternoon while I was on my way to the stream, and it blew so intently you could hear the pines groan. I've heard them creak before, but never groan. Came across a nest of mountain bluebird chicks on the same walk. Some kind soul had built a house for them and nailed it to the fence. First I've ever seen that up there. Usually, the only thing hanging from fences is what's already dead.

Had poached brookie last night up there. Seemed both fitting and right. Hard to say goodbye this time. Real hard. Was a long drive home filled with thinking and dreaming and remembering. Like to leave and do it all over again, if I could. 

Learned my oldest of buddies had two emergency operations to arrest the damage of a blood clot to his liver. Removed part of his intestine. Last time he visited he had symptoms, and when he got home he was hospitalized. Operated on. Weird, but I was writing him into a story when I got the news. Talking about that very thing. His wife says he's okay, they'll release him soon. Fingers crossed it's true.

Fingers crossed it all works out.

Gonna go listen to the rain.

Long expected visitor flying in tonight. 

Leaving Colorful Colorado, Entering Big, Wonderful Wyoming...

Up late, packing. Everything's in the Jeep but my fly gear. Not taking anymore bets on the nature of man. Will finish in the morning and leave early. Relatively early, anyway. Got a long drive ahead, but a pretty one. Aim to enjoy it. Nothing like a long stretch of open road to think and unwind.

Going dark for a few days.

Back Wednesday, if all goes well.

So long, Colorado. 

The Emperor of Wyoming...

Woke up early, but lay in bed until 6:00. Daydreaming. Nice cooling morning, fresh with promise.

Gym, then home for coffee, and a surprise morning visit. Including a bit with a dog. Didn't get a lot of work in at the office, but enough. 11:00 orthodontist appointment shut me down through mid-afternoon. Home after that to look after little things.

Put in last set of revisions on a brochure, and read a few more pages of DeLillo's Zero K. The man's part philosopher, all writer. Every sentence a combination of futuristic cool and old world, ass-kicking, Jesuit-style meditation. Elegant. Simple. Compelling.

Looking forward to my trip up the mountain. Reading, writing, fishing. Dawn to dusk. A little more reading once the gas lamps go on. Hope to finish the DeLillo book, and Best American Short Stories 2015. Draft a new piece (or maybe two), wrap up a couple more.

Read a sad bit in the paper this morning. The Hayden Pass fire down in the Sangres may have wiped out an endangered species of greenback cuttthroat. Their closest known genetic twin was a specimen collected by the Smithsonian in 1889.

Hail storm tonight. But nothing damaged (knock wood). Maybe the moisture will pull the grass out of its funk. Everything's cooling down. Settling in. Good feelings of yesterday are still here.

What I meant was...

...things are looking up.

Pushed a lot of work out the door today, got a new draft rolling, hit the gym. By mid-afternoon the skies were blue and life was one big yellow daisy.

Be nice to string a few days like this back to back.

Gonna make a hard charge to get out of town on Saturday. See if I can't make it up to Wyoming, say farewell to my dad. Probably too ambitious to think I can get to the cabin the same day out, but might try. Depends on how long it takes to stock up on provisions, get my out-of-state fishing license, the rest.

No Starbucks on the mountain. Folger's instant. With any luck, a few nice brookies on the side. Maybe a native cutt or two.

Life's better with fish. 

F*ck all...

Early morning meeting at the Broadmoor. Oh, to be rich. Or maybe not, now that I think about it. Still, it's hard to imagine heaven being any prettier.

Wasted day for the most part. Couldn't seem to get started. At least the skies have cleared a little and the temps have dropped a few degrees.

Gotta start thinking seriously about Wyoming.

The fire this time...

Would have killed to spend the day in bed. But it wasn't in the cards. (Sigh.)

New fires busting out all over the state. Only one I can't feel bad about is the Beaver Creek burn up at the Colorado/Wyoming border. Routt National Forest was savaged by bark beetles years ago, and was always a sad drive. Made me heartbroken every time I passed through.

Skies are brown orange again, the way the were the summer of the Waldo Canyon. I hate giving up a single day of my life, but I'm waiting for fall now. Pressing my hands together, hoping we don't lose anymore than we have.

Feel like I'm coming down with a bad case of the blues. One that's gonna stick around for a while.

Read Denis Johnson's "Largess of the Sea Maiden" today. Wow. Got to me in a huge way. Just kept building and building. You don't have to be an old man to appreciate it, but if you are, it doesn't hurt. It's like meeting up with a kindred spirit who says, it's all right, brother. It's all right. Go easy.

Some like it hot. Some don't...

Up early. Getting to be a habit. Put in time at the gym, made a few story revisions, then went to the bookstore. Picked up DeLillo's newest, Zero K, Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See, and Best American Short Stories 2015. A nice haul. Now all I need is a few extra hours in the day to read them.

Hot. Hot all week, according to the weather people. 

Just another dog day...

Got a late start this morning. Slept in. Still grappling with the structure of "Old Salt," but think I made some decent headway. Scrounged around for a copy of B.A.S.S. 2015, and realized the reason I couldn't find it is that I haven't bought it yet. Jesus. Another senior moment. Need to remedy the situation tomorrow. Stock up on some new reading material.

Went to see a movie this afternoon, trying to get out of the heat. Did some grocery shopping afterward, then came home and cut the lawn. Mower settings are as high as they'll go. Maybe it'll make a difference, I don't know. Planted six new euonymus along the east wall. We'll see what happens. As always, fingers crossed. 

Do-over, tomorrow...

Jesus, God, where did the week go?

Need to sort it all out.

Thursday's child...

Up early. Gym, home. Some good work on the heavy bag, and good set of edits on "Salty Dog." All before nine. Little things on my mind today. Thought by this stage of my life I'd have everything figured out. Figured wrong. 

Made it to the office a little after one, and tried to shrug off the heat melt but only with marginal success. Got some housekeeping out of the way, revised some earlier work, scheduled meetings with two new clients, then packed up and took it all home.

Got an email from an old SF chum late in the day regarding a Denis Johnson story that appeared in B.A.S.S. 2015. Hadn't read the piece, but my buddy put the hook in me. He was wondering after the story's structure, which I assume was elliptical, and somewhat difficult to follow. Told him, Johnson's a poet. His deal's language. Follow the lyricism, and try to find themes. Imagine the words layered instead of end to end. 

Overnight guest tonight. That doesn't happen often. Hope to have a pleasant visit. 

Time is tapping on my forehead...

Woke up to a cool morning, clear blue skies. No smoke from distant fires, no haze. Could use a few more days like this, though I expect we're a long way from cool weather. Neighborhood was quiet when I went off to the gym. Didn't get much of a workout once there, but had a fine time chasing back and forth from home to Safeway searching for my lost wallet. Thought I'd dropped it on the way out of the store last night. After much grief and gnashing of teeth though, I discovered, no, I'd kicked it under the bed while undressing the night before. Duh.

Into the office early for a teleconference, then home again to work. Walked in on the kitties during one of their needy times, and was forced onto the front porch, laptop in hand. Turned out to be a good thing. A perfect day for working outdoors. Typing outdoors, anyway.

Funny. Was starting to go buggy over all the manuscripts I've got in the mail, and all the nothing I've been getting in return. Then, just when I'd written off hearing from anyone until fall, a little angel came along with a great big acceptance in hand. Wraparound South asked for the rights to "Shark Week" for their Summer issue. Closed the deal late this afternoon after writing a brief question/answer piece for their "Backporch" section.

Three new projects on the burner, so Wyoming is now a dream for late July. Particularly if the N stuff starts rolling in. Gonna have my hands full when that dam breaks. Need to think about hitting the office early--really early--to capitalize on writing time. Can't think worth a damn when it gets too hot, and good breaks at the keyboard are going to come at a premium.

Mr. Patrick coming up tomorrow from Albuquerque for an overnight. Should make for an interesting evening. Hard to believe it's already Wednesday. Even harder to believe it's already July.

Independence day...

Witnessed a small slice of  Americana this morning. A neighborhood Fourth of July parade. Little kids on bikes decorated with streamers. Other little kids in wagons, or pushing scooters. Red, white, and blue everywhere. Folks came out and sat curbside in lawn chairs to wave and cheer them on. Was quite the spectacle.

Spent the afternoon splitting my time reading manuscripts and grieving over the poor, burned up lawn. The late afternoon buying shrubs to replace the burned out hostas on the side yard. (Sigh.) Back to back weeks of hot weather. Just couldn't keep up with it.

Tuesday, tomorrow. Fingers crossed it doesn't go down the tubes. Short weeks always prove longer than regular weeks, so I'm not counting on it. But here's hoping. Would like to get back at work on one of my own stories.

Sent proof of "Desperado" back to the American Fiction eds this morning. Look forward to seeing it in print.

The 3rd of July...

Worked all morning. Felt good, though couldn't get over this strange longing that haunted me all through the day. Got a decent draft of "Old Salt" in place. Hope to have a reader draft  together before long.

Ribs and beer for dinner. Good company. Didn't talk about it, but the passing of Elie Wiesel turned another page for me this year. One whose mark won't be forgotten. Read Garrison Keilor held forth with the last Prairie Home Companion, too. Milestones. 

Need to keep pushing forward. Let go of the setbacks and focus on the future.