the life of a small town is in its rhythms; for example, the mail person makes the rounds, the garbage people come once a week, traffic picks up a little at five. our street is brick so cars make more noise on it, and therefore the higher traffic times are more noticeable even in the house. we have a front porch but don't really use it heavily; we find ourselves coming and going from the back, as the front door doesn't open very easily.

friday night is a time of relief throughout the town and actually throughout the country. people crowd the stores and stock up for the weekend. the workers outside who have been repairing some kind of lines, electrical or maybe sewer, have just abandoned their trucks for the weekend and gone home early. the traffic goes around the trucks parked at the corner. it makes a slightly different corner for the weekend.

we are tired, having two kids with major adjustment to new schools. it was especially hard for both of them, since both sat out most of the spring and thus had like a six-month break to readjust back from. their new school is large and intimidating. the town for some reason has combined every high school and middle school student into one building.

bad planner that i am, i started this right before dinner, and the weekend caught up with me. now we have all moved along.

back behind the garage, on saturday, i reviewed the security cameras of the guy who lives back there - he had in fact found someone who came, opened our car, and removed my son's pack on thursday night the week before. it was our second break-in, and has taught us a severe lesson - nothing should remain unlocked even in this small town. it's a shame but it's the way it is.

the mystery involves the guy across the street from the driveway easement, who apparently was arrested and jailed the sunday after that , and now his lawn is overgrowing as he, in jail, is not around to cut it. the neighbor and i speculate about whether we would actually find my saws and lawn mower battery in his garage if we were simply to go over and look. the neighbor says that his neighbor, over on the other side of him, has even more comprehensive cameras than he does, and actually may train them on this guy's house. they are a little more vigilant than i am. and in fact that neighbor's dogs seem to have picked up on his anger.

i like to say, most dogs upon hearing ours say, bark-bark-bark-bark-doingmyjob-bark-bark-bark, but his say, bark-bark-bark-i'lltearyourthroat-out-bark-bark-bark. it's a difference you begin to hear amongst the dogs in the neighborhood.

more later. it's time to turn the wheel, and get along.

 

it's a steamy day; the warm humid air just kind of hangs around, with no wind to speak of. i mowed the lawn and now, because i'm sixty-eight, i have to rest; mowing kind of took the wind out of my sails.

i've been tired a lot, and maybe that's just getting old. but things are happening on the marketing front. i actually sell a few books every once in a while. it could just be that it's the season: people are packing away books to read on vacation. it could just be that the cumulative effect of me being out there on the market is finally paying off. whatever it is, it makes me feel better.

i have to admit that my paperback sales are still so low that i've taken to buying them myself, not only to increase my own stock but also to keep my ratings out of the over-ten-million range. the best i can tell you is that i don't use household money to do it. nobody's going hungry so i can have a few more books in my hand. it does make me feel better, though, to have the ratings look better if even only for a while.

my idea is simply this: I want each cover to be a work of art. that way, even when i buy an obscure haiku book, one that nobody ever buys, i am buying a work of art and putting it into the world. i have succeeded in a few of my books; i have twenty-six; a few of them have works of art as covers. i have a long way to go in that regard.

there are things that need moving, and they're just sitting in the garage. i simply haven't moved them. it's too hot and steamy, and, i'm too tired. just getting them into the garage was hard enough. now, i'm sitting here; they're sitting there; they aren't getting moved. it's a stalemate. a mexican standoff, if there is such a thing.

the dogs need a good walk. they got short ones last night but none for several days and they were dying. the lack was due to my daughter and grandchildren being here; it was wonderful to see them, but that's another reason i'm exhausted. just watching them deal with the grandkids was enough to wear me out. it's nice to have them around, though.

i've encountered some small illinois towns with large trains in them. this i find wonderful. maybe it's coming home. the clear, cornfield smell and huge train whistle, and lots of good fresh fruit & berries.

i'll try to document. galesburg is a little sleepy but it too has trains, brick streets and gorgeous old mansions. stay tuned.