Thirty one years and two days ago my father gave my mother a watch. The watch was as much an ornament as a teller of time. Of course the straps become worn. She likes alligator more than other leathers.
Alexander Nemerov
The flowery
cuff surrounding the little hand in the sculpture suggests the
burst of this vision upon the eye that happens to see it, as well as
the precious, encircled separateness of that vision, sequestered in
its own flowering, shaking off the froth of water from which it
emerges.
(This from Hiram Powers's Greek Slave.)
He is the son of Diane Arbus and the poet Nemerov.
Last night:
There was butter in the kitchen. I wished to avoid L: she put the butter there. I wanted the butter. I heard her coming (I wished to see her but felt fear). I took the butter upstairs and hid it in the closet. She followed after. The butter was melting in the closet. My bed (on the left) was covered in clothes from packing; my brother, when we were young, slept on the right. The beds (in life) were too long so you couldn't shut the door. In the dream, it was neither L's place nor mine.
8.22
Lily called at 12:32 to say she tagged me in the ice-bucket challenge.
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