Otho the Great is Great-tastic!

notes on 'Otho': so illuminating (not)

tuesday, march 30

In other news, the bagger at Ralph's implied that I was shoplifting milk and toilet paper because I took them off the conveyor belt (after the clerk checked them) because I did not want the plastic-squandering bagger to put them in said non-biodegradable receptacles. Luckily the friendly clerk straightened things out right away or I might have been writing this from the Irvine city jail!

I mean, seriously, I am paying over 40 dollars for all this other stuff but I am going to steal toilet paper and milk. Way to go, bag sheriff.

In 'Otho' news: I have finished the play but unfortunately cannot report what happens because I frankly have no idea what is going on here. Spoiler alert: someone appears to die from his own insanity or possibly from having stabbed himself at the end. And there's definitely some conniving going on. But as to exactly what remains unclear, which is sad as I realized (as I kept getting deja vu) that I have actually read this play before. Maybe the third time. Strangely, in other Otho news, Otho's attitude toward Ethelbert the abbot seems slightly manic-depressive. It's like, do you like him or don't you? Seriously.

Thank you. I have to go shoplift a cucumber from Ralph's.

We're Not In Oakland Anymore, Toto

getting ready to face the day

monday, march 29-tuesday, march 30

Reading up on stevia extract and swiss water process on all-knowing Wikipedia, one, to see if stevia is secretly a toxic substance, and two, trying to find a decaffeinated coffee that is not full of chemicals and is genuinely caffeine free.

Finished Nightwood. True misery, these people. Spoiler alert! The ending involves someone fainting and/or dying and somebody else acting like a dog then getting bitten by a dog, but it was unclear to me whether or not this person in the end succumbs to her dog bite wound or to her own insanity. A great read though. Highly recommended.

Still reading Otho the Great (Keats), in fact I fell asleep reading it. Situation of the princess Erminia, honor in question and all that, finds me reminiscing about Das Kaethchen von Heilbronn, a German play by Heinrich von Kleist I think I might like to read again once I'm done with Otho here. The current plot certainly involves a big secret that I am a bit in the dark over. Maybe I'm not supposed to find out until later, or maybe I am an imbecile. Lots of intrigue though, found letters that are incriminating, people not doing the right thing. Lies, lies, lies. These people would all be doing a lot better for themselves if they just followed my essential model for success in this sometimes challenging world: drink lots of water and remain calm. When you are drinking lots of water and remaining calm, you tend to get less involved with the catastrophe with which you are presented.

I have some fun thinking about the recent robocall from the Irvine Police Department regarding a stolen red huffy bicycle. Wow! Such service. If I ever find myself missing anything, I will know who to call. This is almost as good as the time when six police officers were harassing a homeless man for sitting on the grass. Seeing that made me sad inside.

What is also sad are the many sunbathers who slather a lotion of mere SPF 6 all over their already over-bronzed bodies (including some serious fake boobs) and then light one up for a refreshing pool-side smoke, then leave their butts for others to find on the cement beneath their feet. Me, being around water always makes me want to do healthy things. But I guess not everybody feels this way. All the same, I will be sticking with SPF 50 and the inhalation of air alone.

Did Tai Chi. Made cantaloupe agua fresca. Farmer's market: greens, trail mix, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, grapefruit, apples, avocadoes.

Oh, and FYI: I did not win the Walt Whitman award, but then did you really expect me to?

Signing off. I have really important things to do right now, for example, checking the mail.

This Weekend Was Wacky

container garden failure #1: cat eats chives

friday, march 26

Writing the first novel was easy. Was like it wrote itself. This novel feels like a lonely and arduous and sometimes insurmountable task. Right now I am cutting and pasting source materials and dividing them into categories. To get a better grasp of subject. Something has to happen before I can start writing this next section. When I go to check on the orchids I'm pressing in the Arcades Project, I find "...here the concern is to find the consolation of awakening." (from 'On the Theory of Knowledge, Theory of Progress.') Somehow, this seems particularly apt.

Also, the Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth by Thomas Jefferson, in which he creates a single narrative from all four gospels while stripping the story of supernatural elements like miracles and resurrection. Jesus just dies and is buried. Sometimes it strikes me that Christianity might have been alright if not for Paul (Christianity is the belief in resurrection) and the evangelist John (Jesus is god-he's not in the other gospels). And in John it's a very exclusive divinity and he disses all over doubting Thomas, who has his own gospel where the divine light, the ability to discover divine knowledge, is in each of us.

Then Croques-Madames for dinner which is a bread, bechamel, nutmeg, ham, gruyere sandwhich baked with a fried egg on top. I got the recipe from a magazine. I am not going crazy buying House Beautiful. I don't thiink. The shelter of objects and furnishings functions as a sort of organizing principle.

The Thin Red Line. Terence Malick right up there with Werner Herzog in terms of unique directorial style.


saturday, march 27

More Arcades Project, Bowers Museum to see the mummies, planted tomatoes, watched part of Bright Star, found it sad. Everybody is keeping Fanny and John apart.


sunday, march 28

My lack of education as a poet. Missing huge chunks. Read a few pages of Keats' Endymion, then switch over to Otho the Great, written with Charles Brown.
But I should finish Nightwood first. Nightwood, by Djuna Barnes, seems to me to be a novel about miserable people who either cannot or will not alter their own misery.
The wacky part is I think there are orcas in the pool and have to get out. Then I cut myself chopping leeks and walk through a screen door.
I was dating someone for awhile and we read the plays of Yeats together. At least I think we did. Irish foreground, stuff like that.