Today, I began going through writing that may comprise what I have called, for many years, "The Emery Wheel," the working title for a book about people said to have lived before I was born . . . what I deem the book of, among others, Drusilla Taylor . . . or so I say, to myself.
After appointments with Russ Schoenfelder, who needs to complete the work on our house caused by last summer’s storm; with our ophthalmologist Dr. Germaine to re-check Karenlee’s eye; and while Karenlee was having her teeth cleaned in the office of our dentist, Dr. Muirhead . . .and before we went to saw our veterinarian, Dr. Thorsgaard, for news of Pedro’s eye, followed then by picking up Pedro’s eye RX at Med Save and Karenlee’s eye RX at Walgreens . . .
I began what already feels like a quasi-Herculean task of searching through all I have been writing daily since October 22, 2001, looking for the poems and prose germane to the new book from, so far, files that I have designated:
The American Fabric
The Frozen Sea
–with a myriad of remaining files to go through, only to be followed by the winnowing that surely must follow and as quickly as I can do it . . .
All of this “Day in the Life” spiel explains, at least to myself, why I have copped out of writing today, at least so far . . . In the last twelve, nearly thirteen years, with the exception of three weeks in hospital after hip surgery–having a new hip installed–I have missed only one or two days of working at this “trade.” And that after publishing extensively since 1965.
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander