Autumn Grasses
By Margaret Gibson
In fields of bush clover and hay-scent grass
the autumn moon takes refuge
The cricket's song is gold
Zeshin's loneliness taught him this
Who is coming?
What will come to pass, and pass?
Neither bruise nor sweetness nor cool air
not-knowing
knows the way
And the moon?
Who among us does not wander, and flare
and bow to the ground?
Who does not savor, and stand open
if only in secret
taking heart in the ripening of the moon?
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Fanfic is fighting me again; this time Lucius is trying to claim that he never said the things that he said in a previous chapter. It's fine with me if he wants to pretend that he didn't mean them, but this is just not fair. Anyone else who writes smutty fanfic: Do you ever have moments when you are suddenly so overwhelmed with shame about it that you want to take everything you've written off your web pages and reinvent yourself? Is that a normal healthy check on the unreality of it all, or an excessive freakout reaction to putting something that could be construed as rather personal and intimate out there, when sometimes you can't trust even your friends not to make you feel like a pervert?
I had a relatively low-key day for a change, though this weekend is not likely to be so. Today, younger son has Hebrew school then soccer and we want to go see the Potomac River near flood crest. Sunday, older son has Hebrew school then in-laws are coming and we are going downtown for the last day of that baseball exhibit at the Smithsonian. I wish I felt slightly less useless.
One of the kids in my older son's carpool was in tears yesterday afternoon because his calculator, a TI-83, was stolen off his desk at school while he was in the bathroom; he's pretty sure he knows who did it, based on comments from other kids, but it's going to be very hard to prove and he's basically a non-confrontational kid. Oddly his mother had a little bit of an "it's his own fault for leaving it lying about" attitude; I'd be calling the school and asking the principal to please make an announcement or something, because sometimes just thinking they're after you will make a kid leave the stolen property in a corner of the math classroom or something when no one's looking.
Had dinner with my parents, then we all played Texas Hold'em. I didn't do too badly -- a couple of two-pair, a three-of-a-kind and I managed to pull an inside straight, leaving me with two more chips than I started with -- but my older son was the big winner of the night. My prize was leftover chocolate Easter eggs. Please don't ask me why my Jewish mother had chocolate Easter eggs in the first place, let alone in October.
Watched Russell Crowe and TOFOG on Soundstage with Kris Kristofferson. On the one hand, Kris is a worse singer than Russell. On the other hand, he wrote "Me and Bobby McGee," which he and Russell sang together at the end (and Russell fans, you have not lived until you have heard him sing "I'd trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday, to be holdin' Bobby's body close to mine"). They fudged over the "nasty little fuckers" line in "Swallow My Gift" -- my children will be so disappointed. And they did both "Sail Those Same Oceans" and "Swept Away Bayou" (and "Inside Her Eyes", "What's Her Name" and "Never Be Alone Again" in which Russell sang both parts of the duet), though not "Other Ways of Speaking" nor "The Same Person" but I guess you can't have everything in an hour.
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