Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

the book of the alive

Yesterday we took our dog Ted for a walk at McKinney Towne Lake Park. We discovered, by the community center, a nature trail upon which we had not walked. It led into a woodland,filled with sycamore and burr oak. We saw a truly green garter snake minding his own business on the trail. We left him to his contemplations. It was a warm, glowing, first-flower day, and Ted got delightfully winded on the walk.

After a lunch at Schlotzky's, we stopped in at the new Allen Public Library.
It's an impressive structure, and it was not lost on me that it has a room conspicously marked "meeting room" which was empty on Sunday. My wife recently found the tournament director's examination which the woman who comes in to clean twice a month had "put away" someplace mysterious. If I can get my tournament director's card, my prior one having expired, I will see if I can run a chess tournament at that library.

At the library, my wife had some research to do for a club to which she belongs.
I planted myself in the magazine section to read. I read "Current Biography", which had features on Aaron Cometbus, Scarlett Johannsen and Janene Garofalo. I thought to myself that the "right kind of fame" must surely include being biographied in "current biography". Then I immersed myself in a huge oversize picturebook called "Punk". I was barely through the Velvet Underground and New York scene precursor parts, though, when it was time to leave.

When we got home, I got out my mountain dulcimer for a little play. I had almost forgotten the sheer miracle of anything childishly easy to play featuring extra drone strings. I laid down a mean version of the most beginner of the dulcimer songs "Boil them Cabbage Down", but spent most of my time improvising melodies just to hear the sound.

The wind had come up, as it so often does in Allen, Texas, and I took my multi-colored kite to nearby Glendover Park for a flight. When I got there, another family had their kite, a ballon-like contraption which flew very impressively.
My delta wing kite has a black principal color, but is festooned with geometric pendants in multiple pastels. It looks a bit like a 7th grade artist's attempt to draw a mandala from the Tibetan Book of the Alive. The kite performed like the stock market--it went up, it came down, it fluttered with a tail like tickertape. It got its string tangled in one tree, but I saved it from that fate. It sometimes seemed so determined when it came down to dig into the ground that I wondered if it was really intended to be a water well driller than a kite. But in the long run, it had a great flight. I have the rope burns from kite string which are my own personal red badge of courage.

I fell asleep before nine p.m., and slept ten hours.
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