Elsinor: Can't Wait to See It

 

Elsinor is another movie that I’m very keen to see. In it, Andrew Scott plays Ian Charleson, the star of Chariots of Fire, in this dramatization of Charleston’s historic performance as Hamlet at England’s National Theatre, right after receiving a devastating diagnosis of AIDS. And bonus: Olivia Coleman.

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Time got away from me yesterday morning. I was rushed off my feet by unexpected things. David called and we fell into a long chat about concerns he was carrying, and then Steve called to vent about having to wait for seven hours in the emergency ward of an LA hospital. His landlord, who’s ninety-three, fell and Steve looked after him until they returned home and his landlord was settled in his bed,

The morning began as most every day does, with posting, doomscrolling through newsfeeds, doing dishes and putting things away, then came the calls. Once they were done, I took Sheba for our morning walk which was long overdue. And then, when I came home eager for some quiet time, I remembered that I had to pick up Eoin at the automotive shop where he was leaving his car for repairs, to drive him home. Off we went!

When we got back home, it was lunchtime. And then I had a brief rest during which I could read before Jacob and Grayson arrived to fall the tree I wanted down. I’m so glad I’s down. It was leaning, and with it gone, my backyard gets more sun, especially in Winter when the sun is low in the sky.

Before the tree came down.

Jacob, in the orange safety jacket, on his way up the tree.

Jacob has removed all the branches and felled the top portion
of the tree. Grayson was on the ground cleaning up the branches.

The end result. I'll start stacking the little pieces today.

I walked Sheba at 15:00 while the team was bucking the fallen tree, and soon after that, it was dinner time, and I was glad to be back to my quiet and uneventful life again. When dinner time came, we were all very happy to eat and bring our day to an end on soft furniture. 

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When I opened the back door to escort Sheba to the gate which I opened for her so she could cruise the hood at 5:00, I was happy to feel rain on my head. But tomorrow begins a week without precipitation, so my watering may not yet be over for the season. The good weather will give me time to load the smaller pieces of bucked wood into a woodshed.

Today, though, will be an indoor day. I shall read more of John of John, and I shall also practice my bit for SPACE that happens in Vancouver on the 17^th of Ocotober.

Art: Power and Escape

I don’t like the white lines on my large office window. They are particularly ugly when the sun hits them, but the Audubon website says this is the thing to do, and I do not want to be responsible for any more bird deaths at Pinecone Park. Each one breaks my heart. They are such beautiful, innocent little wonders.

I had considered using wood moulding to break the large window into smaller ones, but it was going to be massively expensive because I’d have to commission it. I have hung curtains of plastic strips over the studio windows, because I don’t do anything in there.

Doing that window was my big accomplishment of the day. Her Highness and I have a routine now, a short morning walk in the 707, and Elder Cedar in the afternoon. Her presence, her behavioural habits, everything means more to me now. Longevity is not going to be the story with my soul mate.

I’m not going to water today as it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. I’m reading more as my watering duties wane, and sometimes H.H. and I walk three times to fill our days. I’m reading John of John. Douglas Stuart is a favourite. His protagonists are gay, and I think that’s part of why I like Mr. Stuart’s writing.

But what I love, what makes me want to re-read again after a few years pass, are the characters and their world. The novel is set on Harris Island, off the coast of Scotland. All his novels involve people who are struggling. I recently told someone that I was reading John of John and added that it was by the guy who wrote Shuggie Bain. She said she hated Shuggie Bain because it was too crude and bleak. 

Yea, it is bleak. But it’s just a story. I hate war, but art about war can be illuminating. It’s the art that holds your soul while your brain absorbs the message. When I was in Chicago, I saw a room with several old oil drums clustered in an otherwise empty room, and the room was dark.

I went in and saw that all the tins were full of water with a thin skin of oil on top, and when I got right up close, I could see words, backwards, on the surface. It made me look up, and that’s where I read about a foreign vessel that dumped waste oil drums full of toxic chemicals that leached into the water supple of local people and animals. This happened in Africa. It was one of the most moving art pieces I’ve ever seen. The story sickened me; no one was taking responsibility. But the form of expression thrilled me. Catching my eye in oil on water to teach me a story, in so seductive a manner, that needed to be known, has stayed with me as a favourite art piece.

Back to Douglas Stuart. When I open a book, I am giving the author access to my imagination, heart, and soul. I’m wide open for anything, if the story is well told. 

This is NOT bullshit: I picked up a novel by a Scottish writer, but I can’t remember his name, who wrote in a brogue so thick, I could hardly read it. I really struggled. But something held me, regardless of my difficulty with the language, so I ploughed on. I read the entire novel. Not long after I finished the novel, I ran into someone and we got to talking. And after I told her something, she asked me if I’d been to Scotland.

I didn’t do it intentionally, and that’s my point. I got deeply drawn into that book. That’s what I love about books and good writers. I’m drawn in from the get-go, and then I never want it to end. It’s a place to go every day, when I read. And I think that’s why I can’t read two books at once.

I want to have one world to escape to at a time. And although, yes, Shuggie Bain was hardcore reading, it’s an incredible group of people 

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It was cold in the house this morning. I rushed to light the fire and make the house comfortable for the day. My daily chore has changed from watering the garden beds to lighting a fire. It may rain tonight and tomorrow. I shall continue putting white lines on the suicide windows, and I’ll read and we’ll walk. Nothing changes.

Fatigue

Saturday was beautiful and sunny all day. My day began, however, in eight-degree temperatures. It was cool outside, but lovely to be out there while in the spa. I was putzing around the house from 4:00, doing dishes, vacuuming and putting things away. Then Stacy called, at 8:45. I went to meet her at Mad Rona’s for a muffin and hot chocolate, and then we walked the meadow behind the farmers’ market.

While she went to the market, I went to the pharmacy to pick up the prednisone for Sheba, and then, once I was back home, Stace came by with Rory, her granddaughter, to see Fred and Ethel. We had a lovely visit, and I was thrilled to see Tosca, her Great Dane puppy whom I adore.

I spent the entire day fighting fatigue. This happens sometimes with me. I had a great night sleep Friday night, but I was yawning and wiping tears away all day yesterday. I’d read for a while, then nap, then read, nap, read, nap until it was time for Her Highness and I to go to Elder Cedar to walk on a truly beautiful afternoon. It was bright and sunny, but the day’s high was only 15°.

Today, the sky is clear and it’s ten degrees outside. I have lit a morning fire, and I shall spend the day drawing white lines on the glass of my back doors and the windows of the studio. The white lines will, I hope, end the death of birds by glass on my property, and I will read John of John. It’s going to be a lovely lazy day.

New Asphalt

Well, the best part of my day was driving on the new asphalt covering the long stretch of deathly dreadful holes and patches on Buttercup Ave. It’s the only road in and out of our cluster of streets mid-island. It’s what connects us to North Road, the circle road of the island. It’s a huge improvement that is long overdue.

It was raining when I got up. It rained, of and off, all day, sometimes heavily. It’s odd, spending all day indoors. However, I am reading John of John, and I could not be happier. I’ll read anything Douglas Steward writes. I adore his writing; he’s a prose master his books feature gay characters. 

We walked again in the afternoon. As we walked our final twenty meters, light rain started falling. The heavy rain began at 16:00. It rained, sometimes, like a tropical downpour. At 18:30, there was very light rain, but the light was magnificent; the clouds had thinned. Suddenly I was enjoying the brightest part of our day. The foliage glowed in the light. The leaves have been washed of Summer dust and are shining with their coat of water. Drops of water on dipping leaves add sparkle to my view.

It was stunning to look out every window. I feel blessed to have a soul that attunes me to nature. How great is it to be able to look out a window and not see the handiwork of man? I marvelled looking out my windows last night in such beautiful light. The foliage is flush; the leaves have yet to fall. It looks so lush and healthy and vital, the forest.

Meanwhile, inside, close to the fire box, Fred is sprawled, tummy up, on a chair, and Sheba is asleep on the floor. Ethel was on the bed. All three of them use the bed every day, the twins will sleep there for hours. (Ethel and Fred; aren’t really twins, but they came to me as kittens on the same date. They are not blood related.)

I’ve written before that our neighbours had a cat that never should have been accepted from another neighbour. The cat was always outdoors, crying to get in. When that family moved, I took the cat. At the time of course, I was not conscious of the neglect I was experiencing. That was to come later. 

That cat, Alec, was my first experience with love and touch with a soul that demonstrated trust with physical connection. I felt loved for the first time. We rescued each other’s soul. He was Alec. He was white and he was always on my lap, or on my chest if I was lying down, or following me. I imprinted on Aleck. I was destined to have deep affection for cats. Fred and Ethel are indoor cats. They are always here, and all of us trust each other.

I’m at my desk. Fred and Ethel are each on their own chair. A Fedex truck pulls into the driveway. Sheba goes berserk barking. The cats scatter and I immediately get up and go to the front window. Sheba is head of security. I am cook and door attendant for Her Highness. The cats are soul food.

Newly freed by necessity from my dog walking group, and now imprisoned by the rain, I am aware of my solitude. I have a mild fear about Winter. This happens every year, and by Spring, I fear all the work that Summer brings. But both fears quickly fade. I know that. But it doesn’t stop those fears coming to visit each year.

Dr. Shoja is my lifeline. I only talk with her once a month. I see her twice a month when times get rough. But between my visits with her, she is with me. I have an incredible asthma doctor, and an HIV specialist and a cardiologist monitoring me. All of them are available at any time. 

But Dr. S. looks after my emotions. Plus, she will be with me for the rest of my life. Her lifelong service is free to me due to my diagnosis. 

Objectively, it astounds me to see a person so altered from one form of existence to another —overnight! And then to be told that the cause is childhood neglect. That too, astounds me. Dr. S. told me, early on, that neglect was the worst form of child abuse. I found that hard to believe, but no more!

I feel saved by Aleck, and all the other four-leggers of my past, and all the florae. But I had to have a soul highly receptive to these triggers of love and beauty. This aspect of my character, my passion for natural beauty is a blessing. It brings joy into my life every day now that I life here on the edge of the forest.

This is how I think: I’d rather that childhood neglect affects my body and speech, rather than my personality or state of wellbeing. I’m a happy guy by default, thanks to the nourishment of friends along the way—human, animal and floral.