what day is it?

Today is only the 21st day of my so-called retirement. I miscounted a couple of days ago. It’s the third Sunday I don’t have to go play a church service. I just gained nine days of life from miscounting.

It’s getting cooler here in Western Michigan. Eileen turned the heat on because she was cold. Last night she shut it down again and opened the windows and doors because she was warm from moving parts of the new wardrobe from the back of the car to the house. I helped.

We are missing one board of the wardrobe. Eileen said she would check to see if she could order a replacement. It’s the back of one the drawers so she continued assembling it. This is something she enjoys. it’s a bit like a puzzle for her. She does love puzzles.

She stayed up late last night finished assembling a lot of the new wardrobe. It’s laying down in the study where I am typing. It looks much too heavy for one of us to bring upright. I’m sure she has a plan. Together we can probably set it upright for further assembly.

I planed through a Bach prelude and fugue last night, the fugue first. It was the one in Bb major from the first book of the Well Tempered Clavier. I am finding it more difficult to pull these piano pieces off with my bad hand. Even my right hand has new troubles.

I mentioned to Eileen it’s a good thing I’m not performing in public with such diminishing abilities.

But my love of music is not diminishing. This morning I pulled out a recording Beethoven’s first symphony conducted by Simon Rattle in 2003 and did my stretches to the first movement while watching the Liszt piano transcription. I exercised to Hari Kunzru’s podcast about punk rock in East Germany. I was surprised when Kunzru quoted a lengthy passage of Thomas Merton on solitude. I didn’t see that one coming. It made me want to dig up some not religious Merton, maybe the book on solitude. I have read a ton of Merton. In the past he hasn’t alienated me very much. I’m not sure how I will read it now being free of thinking much about church and religion.

Jen, my former boss, was in my dreams night before last. She was talking about the benefits of having a condo. I think she may have been trying to talk me into getting one for me and Eileen. Then i noticed she was very exhausted and stressed. I wondered aloud if some physical exercise might help her. The people in my dream were confused. I explained to them that I had found ways to help Jen in the past.

I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s a dream.

When I sat down at my desk this morning, I felt a strong urge to read a bunch of poetry. Which I did. I will probably read some more after I finish this. Emily Dickinson was on my mind so I read some of her. Then some living poets. I subscribe to Poetry magazine. I like to dip into the latest issue but it means if I like a poem I can’t share the link here because the latest issue is often not online yet.

Ashley M. Jones was a guest editor of Poetry for three issues this year. I found more poems than usual that I liked in those issues which I am still working my way through. Here are a few I like.

How to decide which human gets your last ventilator… | Poetry Maga

by Emily Gallacher Viall. the bio in the back of the issue says that she is a nurse and poet. It goes on “On the second day of the second month of 2021, she gave birth to twin boys, which she thinks is pretty cool.