Saturday, March 22, 2008

March 22 - Holy Saturday!

Sleep is running rampant, robbing time.

Meanwhile Napa beckons yet yet again, as perfect short getaway.

Pressing a button on the cellphone, cut to Harriet making coffee, answering emails, the dark blue screen of one of the domicile's workhorses glowing brightly, sometimes beeping loudly, ringing the years.

"Is it not time for our ennui killer?"

We interrupt our scheduled Metropolitan Richard Wagner morphing (Tristan und I-Sold-Out), and if it was a violin, answer the telephone.

Upon hearing of schemes, push a button, bust a Shakespeare rhyme, open a door and a bookcase, reading about polar opposites. Slip-sliding, mountainous in the flick of a light, switching to the car. Animated.

In full costume, we set out, Mark in the driver's seat.

Harriet would be unlikely to say, "Atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed."

But I could respond, "Roger, ready to move out" and we two race off out of the Platonian Cave of Appearances at high speed.

As the Toyotamobile approaches the mouth of the freeway, a hinged light drops down green to allow the car to enter on to I-80.

After passing The Wine Guy, the initial discussion leads us back to dynamic Dry Creek Road conducting Our Exagmination Round His Factification for Incamination of Work in Progress .

A meeting with local gentry in unbearable brightness,

being the getting away further on the Mayacamas meander, utimately back to Marin, only to come back and walk again later Sisyphusianly.

Here, we recapture heroically senza deathtrap or cliffhanger, vetting our discontent,

and all is resolved at the intersection of Orchard.

At least temporarily, in Napamatic splendor, in test estate.

A related pattern has cycled each day at length, although a portable cycle has circled in a pinch, which way are we going to Stag's Leap,


Yes, she said. Yes, she will read in the sun, angelically, patiently,

but first sleep, sleep; dream-drive north of Yountville.

Napa poppies,

leaping, soaring.

Operatic soirree chez Peter Kuperman in SF thereafter, with folks from San Francisco Contemporary Opera (a.k.a. SF Cabaret Opera), San Francisco Opera, Merola, Golden Gate Opera, Wagner Society of Northern California, and San Jose Ballet.

Much later, record Vocal Sonatina No. 1 ("Spitzer"): III. Only the Lobbyists (instrumental version, paradoxically)