The title of this post is the last line of Chris Haven’s lovely poem, The Songbird’s Song . In the poem, the poet worries that the songbird’s song is disappearing one note at a time.
Eileen is canning tomatoes in the kitchen. I have already been to the Farmers Market. My piano has been fixed and tuned. Kelly Bakker, the piano guy, reacted to the news that I am retiring by trying to sell me a piano.
If he could come up with a Steinway upright I would consider it.
My brother and his wife are coming for a visit next week. I am reorganizing my study to accommodate hosting them. I moved a metal set of shelves in and put books on it. This would have been a good solution to all the books laying around but the shelf itself is too flimsy. Eileen has bid on a shelf that will replace it. We need to change it so it will be safe for visitors.
I have been reading in David Foster Wallace’s biography.
I’m not sure it’s a great one but learning about his life is interesting and illuminates some of the books he has written that I have read.
I want to finish this bio and the biography of Miles Davis by Szwed.
Szwed has a better handle on Davis than Max does of Wallace.
Since I have finished a couple of novels, I started Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neal thurston.
In her essay, “Their Eyes Were Watching God: What does soulful mean?”, Zadie Smith talks about resisting reading this book for several reasons. Her mom convinces her to read it and she is sucked in, despite her objections.
I also am uncomfortable with the dialect in this book. But when she wants to Thurston can write incredibly beautiful prose. Plus she tells a story. I’m hooked.