Because, I guess, anything is better than the US political situation right now, some folks have asked for more of the sketches I’m doing in Jonathan Santlofer’s art class. Okay, to distract you, here comes one. We don’t have a nude model here, by the way, so does anyone have Melania’s number?
Okay, you guys. The food here is fabulous, so fabulous I keep forgetting to photograph it before we eat it. But I did grab some pix for you and there will be more. I’m sitting in my window watching at the layered mountains recede to the southwest and the rain clouds slide in. Dinner soon, but here’s yesterday’s. I didn’t manage the main course (grilled meats and vegetables) but I got everything else.
Campari and soda before dinner.
Antipasti, and students going for it, and statues looking on enviously.
Antipasti plate.
Cake.
Assisi, like any other, oh, gee, 2,000-year-old place, has some extremely cool things going on. I’ve learned about a few over the years, and they’re too great not to share. Here’s me on an evening walk, running my mouth for the benefit of newcomers about the cloth, brick, and tile measurements built into the wall by the town fathers 900 years ago so you wouldn’t get cheated when you bought your goods at the market in the square. Photo by the sneaky but invaluable Jonathan Santlofer.
Breezy here, which is great, because it’s hot. I’m on the porch watching the whitecaps roll around on the bay. We have only a tiny slice of water view, but it’s framed by branches and quite lovely. The rocking chair beside me is going as though The Invisible Man were also enjoying the afternoon. What’s a zephyr where I am is apparently a strong wind higher up; the trees are tossing their heads. An osprey with a fish in its talons just headed across the sky above the yard, struggling and pitching until it found a current it could ride. For some reason unknown to me, the ospreys don’t seem to fish where they nest. The ospreys from the beach to the north will fish in the water to the south, and the birds with a nest to the east — I have an almost-irresistible urge here to break into
but I’ll give you Danny Kaye instead.
When I got here I filled the birdfeeder, and though I had no customers in the hottest part of the day I had a house finch and some sparrows later on. Four crows were roosting in the neighbor’s apple tree. They’re a family; for the last two weeks the young ones followed their mother around making weak little “feed me” caws. That’s over now. One by one, they flew from the apple to the maple on the other side of the yard, feathery black shapes across the blue sky each with a small green fruit in its beak.
You knew I was going to have to do it, didn’t you? This is the NYBG corpse flower cam.
Expected bloom Sunday or Monday, and the Garden, which is not open Mondays, will be open this one. Just sayin’.
First of all, its scientific name is Amorphophallus titanum, which translates as “misshapen giant dick.”
Then there’s this, about its smell:
Analyses shows the “stench” includes chemicals that produce these aromas: limburger cheese, rotting fish, sweaty socks, sweet floral scent, Chloraseptic,and human feces.
Also, the last photo I posted may not make it clear that the damn thing is eight to ten feet tall.
I’m going to Italy on Tuesday, and my only regret about this trip is, I won’t get to see and smell the corpse flower in bloom.
From today’s NY Times:
“According to xHamster, one of the leading aggregators of online porn, traffic from users in Cleveland spiked significantly this week as the Republican National Convention got underway. Viewership in the city shot up by 184 percent from its pre-convention average, surpassing traffic the site gets from people in large cities including New York, Miami and Los Angeles.
“‘This increase is unprecedented,’ said Mike Kulich, a spokesman for the web site. ‘They’re making porn great again.'”
Stopped in my local deli last night on the way back from the Rancho. Young couple at the counter buying coffee. Counter guy I’ve never seen before, young, big grin, trendy glasses, says to man, “Mind if I give your girlfriend a compliment?” Man says go ahead. Counter guy turns to woman and says, “Nice ass!” Woman turns bright red, giggles. Man is stuck for a second, then says, “She loves to hear that.” Woman slaps him on the arm. They leave, her still giggling. I say to counter guy, “That may not have been what either of them was expecting.” Counter guy laughs and says, “Bet the sex will be better tonight.” “Oh,” I say, “that was altruistic?” “Yeah,” says he. “That’s what I do, travel around the world making sure everyone has great sex.”
I love New York.
I have to talk about Dallas, but I, a writer, find myself at a loss. I write fiction; I take time, re-write, polish each word, each phrase. This situation — Baton Rouge, St. Paul., Dallas — is too ragged and raw for that.
So I’m going to do something I haven’t done on this blog. I’m going to refer anyone who wants to go to Frank Bruni’s Op-Ed in today’s NY Times. He says what I would want to say, and beautifully.
How America Heals After Dallas
Thank you for any kind and caring gesture you can make today, and tomorrow, and every day.
