First it was three weeks of a giant tracked jackhammer and steam shovel digging a trench in the road through rock for a new water main. Then, two weeks ago, the addition of a second floor bedroom to a one-floor garage. First the demo. Ripping off the old roof with sawzalls. Then the second floor. Then the framing for the walls and new roof. Then the plywood sheathing. Then today shingles. This all goes on right below a window of the upstairs bedroom where Shake was born and continues to live. All the ripping and cutting and hammering have been hell to write to. Every nail gun shot is a jolt to the gut. Every hammer blow a concussion. Every time I try to get back to Shakes world Im tasered back to this one. I cant wear earplugs without feeling like Im in a stalled washing machine. I cant listen to music without my writing turning to rap. I cant write this book anywhere else. I wish that everyone would just stop doing noisy stuff. Find quiet stuff to do till I get this book written. My second favorite quote from Franz Kafka is this: God does not want me to write, but by God, I must write! My first favorite is this: Only that which is possible happens. Anyway, the upside is that I broke through some tough stuff, and am sailing despite this overambitious neighborhood. Montana! Save me! The view from Shakes window without the sound track:
Posted on: Fri, 10 Oct 2014 21:26:25 +0000
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