GORGEOUS LIFE

My mother and I cool ourselves in my airtight, bland rooms and get little done.

I am worse. My speech is more labored. It's hard to hold pots and pans to cook. My lower back is going. Eating takes patience. I'm not depressed, more short tempered.

As I wheelchair around the city, I'm amazed at GORGEOUS LIFE - it could keep me up at night.

This leads to illusive tragic moments when I think, "I understand, now - I know just what to do!" but my mind careens to the present (too late).

I finished "Howards End" last night.  This is a beautiful book. E M Forster weaves his singular ideas about life with great story telling. He writes about the house/home, and it's greater meaning to life, something I've grappled with.

I read the play "Red".

I watch the movie "Diabolique".