May 25, 2011

Dear Cyndy,

Two weeks from today, if everything works out, we should be back in Belmont. Inspite of the circumstances that the house (aged 59), Margaret (aged 87) and I (aged 81) are in relatively good shape, - "dem Alter entsprechend" - corresponding to age, as my father liked to say, I feel daunted by the prospects of preparing to leave, of traveling, unpacking,- the car, the luggage, and not least, my mind, then confronting the absurdity of the Nantucket authorities filing with the Court the report of "an inspection of fairness and integrity" purporting to show the need to destroy my plumbing. Reminds me of hikes in the Canadian Rockies wilderness, exhilarating if you have the energy, demoralizing (or disemboweling) if you get eaten up by bears.

Meanwhile, domestic chores have kept me busy. Friday, I repainted, probably the first time since the house was built, three of the inside doors in the basement.  Saturday and Sunday I trailed our 12 year-old (barely) self-propelled lawn mower as it chewed its way over what I calculate to be about one and half miles of grassy trail on all four sides of the house. From Sunday at 8 p.m. until Tuesday noon, we were held in suspense - and darkness - by American Electric Power Company's default, meditating whether it would be possible to postpone that next trip to the bathroom until the power had come back on, - not knowing of course when either would happen.

To answer your related questions:

What about water? I took an old garden hose, truncated about 18 inches from the inlet, attached it to the hot water tank drain, and was able to draw potentially 40 gallons of gradually cooling water.  In fact, I drained only a glass full, in which, when held up to daylight, I could see a light cloud of black particles, whether from the lining of the hose or the bottom of the tank, I couldn't say, - but obviously, since I'm writing this letter post hoc, not fatal to my health. The bathroom problem I solved with a heavy plastic contractor's disposal bag, left over from our trip to Detroit 15 months ago, with which I lined the toilet bowl. The ultimate cleanup and disposal of the contents I leave to your imagination.

Why are electric power lines not placed underground: a) overhead they are insulated by air which costs nothing. Underground they require insulation which is expensive, deteriorates and requires periodic replacement. b) overhead broken wires, poles are immediately visible.  Underground long sections of cable must be excavated and replaced to identify the location of an open or short circuit.

Now that electric power has been restored, there's another problem.  The ghost of Narcissus has entered the mind - ?soul - of a young cardinal who has been observed by Margaret as he/she persistently flies into the rearview mirrors of our new car whose front doors he/she splatters with white mementos. We're waiting for the bird psychiatrist. Until he/she comes, we've draped over each mirror a plastic shopping bag, so that instead of seeing his/her beautiful image, the bird will get the message "Food City". That should take away its appetite.

Chapter 46 of the novel, I think is ready to roll, although I have written only the first page or two. In a dusty cabinet of the bugged jury deliberation room in the Island police station where he, Mengs and Katenus have been imprisoned for the night, Joachim found the court records of proceedings concerning one Dr. Selbstmacher whose self-installed plumbing the Town wanted to tear out. Joachim falls asleep and dreams, and dreams that he is Dr. Selbstmacher, and describes truths so absurd that no novelist in his right mind could invent them.

The composition of Chapter 46 has been somewhat delayed by a letter from my cousin http://home.earthlink.net/~ej1meyer/2011/d110525.03 which precipitated, on my part, an orgy of theology: http://home.earthlink.net/~ej1meyer/2011/d110525.00 http://home.earthlink.net/~ej1meyer/2011/d110525.01 that has left me with an intellectual hang-over.  I conclude that of all purported intellectual activity, theology is the most ennervating and corrupting.  With respect to theology, I've climbed on the wagon, and promise never to indulge myself again. If I relapse, please be sure to remind me.

My best to yourself and to Ned.

Jochen

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