The Assemblagist

Praise the fresh home­made with real but­ter maple nut fudge from Bur­gaw. Stand up and say “amen” to all things artery clog­ging. The artis­tic impor­tance of my Bur­gaw lun­cheon visit with J? Another suit­case. This one so very vin­tage, it looks con­trived, the decals and stick­ers appear fake. So real — it’s unreal. Nice! And to add to my extra­or­di­nary suit­case pur­chase — Four nicely turned table legs from a toddler-​size pri­mary school table which appar­ently was flung out of the room and jumped upon dur­ing the last recess of the year last Mon­day. Me, being me… I grabbed the legs and popped them into the rear of the nicely kept Volvo which prompts this part of the mes­sage — A VAN! A VAN! Another Dodge Car­a­van in my per­sonal auto­mo­tive his­tory… so much bet­ter for for­ag­ing and road­side acqui­si­tions. A ten year old van trumps a Volvo sta­tion­wagon with leather seats and brand-​spanking like-​new inte­rior for pick­ing up the “your trash is my trea­sure” art ideas.

Yes, my logic and my syn­tax is con­vo­luted today. Too much dri­ving time which yielded to the needs, upon arrival home, of the imme­di­ate dog neces­sity — one hour of walk­ing time and that, in turn, cre­ated a con­fused and exhausted me.

Hark ho! Got the copies of the Car­rboro Free Press sum­mer lit­er­ary issue with my essay about Liv­ing with Ruth pub­lished therein. Nice nice nice. I really am proud of that piece. And pleased that some old dear out-​of-​touch for years friends read the essay and found me! Hey C and F.

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