skipping stones

How cool is this old camera. I found it in an antique shop in northern California. Didn't buy it, not sure what I would have done with it, but did take the picture. Another kind of ownership.

Blue Nights
Feeling entirely guilty yet craving rest and recovery from the latest bout of labyrinthitis (vertigo) I spent yesterday reading Joan Didion's new book. As usual, her words are so compelling that I read till midnight to the last page. She writes so directly, almost a Hemingway-esque style. Pre-publication reviews suggested that she is somewhat detached in this book and maybe that's so. It is after all about loss. The daughter, husband, friends,who died. Aging. Ill health. Places from the past that don't exist anymore or are so changed as to be unrecognizable. Rather heavy subjects to delve deeply into and still be able to emerge intact.

varieties of adjustment
I see some of myself in Didion's style of detached writing and maybe that's why her work speaks to me so clearly. I applaud her honesty when she writes about old age and her own infirmities. There is no gentle segue into her woes, just a few punches. She was told by one of her doctors that she was making "an inadequate adjustment to aging." Her response? "In fact I have made no adjustment whatsoever to aging." (except not wearing the 4 inch heel red sandals anymore, although I don't know why she won't wear the gold hoop earrings either). The imperative, she wrote, is to maintain momentum as we age. Yet she's not sure exactly what that means. Nor do I. Her braiding of each person's story throughout the book is masterful. Anyone writing non-fiction will learn a great deal.

Another snowstorm in full sun today and it's cold. I think this is going to be a winter of new unpredictable weather. Forecasters never get Taos right anyway. Accuracy occurs about an hour before the weather changes. Yellow sun still fills the air and turns a tiny vitamin pill into an abstract installation. That much I know.