Cloister Commentary, Day 191: We Love the Sunrise

We were a little groggy when we awakened, so we decided to hop in the truck, turn up a little birthday-boy Bud Powell and head east on I-70 to watch the sun rise. Unfortunately, cloud cover was obscuring the event, so at Millersburg we turned around to head back home–only to see the pink-orange orb in its full glory a few seconds later in our rear-view mirror.

We also took a very long walk around the neighborhood. The weather was perfectly mild, the rain was still hanging in wait, the morning was quiet–but it’s not quite the same without your dog.

Later, I wrote one of my summer school students a recommendation letter for Stephens’ study abroad program and did my first round of editing and suggesting for my 2020-2021 Battle High School mentee. They are both outstanding humans.

As the afternoon turned to evening, we indulged in two musical Louies at pretty high volume–Prima and Jordan–then took a brief nap to Nat King Cole singing en Español (a highly recommended activity). Nicole did grade-checks, I watched the Miami Heat–I’m going to call them a team of destiny–advance to the NBA Bubble Finals over the Celtics, and we closed down shop with an episode of Last Tango in Halifax, the window open so we could hear the rain finally fall.

Streaming for Strivers:

The ultimate in iconic self-pity!

Cloister Commentary, Day 84: The Return of Ponty Apers

Nicole and I participated in two outings, one a sort of outdoor committee meeting at the Hickman labyrinth to finalize some important details, the other a catch-up, hangout, beer-slurp, wine-sip with a dear friend in West Columbia. Lawn chairs and tree-shade came in mighty handy.

We got home and my body twisted my arm (a tangled metaphor, that) and hissed in my ear through gritted teeth, “You will take a nap!” I did.

Just when I get really comfortable with Zoom, the company shuts down a celebration of the Tiananmen Square protest. Remember, the one with the man standing down the tank? We cheered that one as a nation, I think. It was so long ago. I may have to pursue an alternative teaching method.

I am closing in on finishing two series: Chester Himes’ nine-book “Coffin Ed and Gravedigger Jones” Harlem Cycle, and Gilbert Hernandez‘s Love and Rockets/Palomar Stories graphic novels. No regrets about either undertaking: those worlds are fascinating and enriching.

We played Scrabble, sipped mint juleps, cranked up the music of the great Louis Jordan, and just chilled. I cinched a win by adding an “s” to “bowel.” Bastard.

Bess, Susie, Melody, Lee, and Kendra will probably get this, but just before bed, looking out into the backyard, we spied Ponty Apers 🦊. Why yesterday? Indeed.

Streaming for Strivers:

I was once accused by a former friend when I was (politely) unimpressed by his demo tape that I “don’t even listen to rock and roll anymore.” I did, I do, I always will. Also, Black Lives Matter in garage punk!