newstalk

Two observations.

I.

Housekeeping duty this morning. While vacuuming Kenozha, one of the guest cabins, I got to thinking about words, specifically the way William Faulkner writes about them in As I Lay Dying, with such distrust. Why would a writer, and indeed a large portion of the Modern movement, have such a deeply-ingrained suspicion for words? Then came the epiphany: William Faulkner did not trust words because William Faulkner was a recalcitrant liar.

II.

After housekeeping, I helped shovel the eight inches or so of snow that fell last night off of the large broomball court. After that, Lina and I started to put a new layer of ice down on the court, but it began to snow again. We finished the layer of ice, Lina working the hose while I shoveled the new-fallen snow out of her way. Afterward, tired, sweaty and feeling wonderful, we all went to lunch and ate grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup and pickle spears. When I walked back to Loberg from lunch to change into my office clothes, it was still snowing. I watched the flakes collect on the black fabric of my coat sleeve: diverse little crystal universes of complexity, order and beauty. Once again, I reminded myself how little of the world I truly understand.

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