No Plug

I wait for something distinct this evening – some new object, some other light, some other set of sounds. But it is no good looking or listening for anything intently. Things have to approach me on their own terms and within the experience of repetition. It is now almost 6pm. Around the middle of the day I drove into town and bought an ironing board. I went on a long bike ride late in the afternoon. The wind was blowing strongly from the south, which meant that the ride back was hard. Always the soft sound of crickets in the garden and the ticking of the clock. Everything seems utterly precarious tonight, although nothing of this takes adequate shape. I was hoping to have a bath a bit earlier, but couldn’t find the rubber plug. I searched through all the drawers and cabinets. I even tried the metal kitchen plug, but no luck. I guess there may have never been a plug. I ended up having my usual shower.

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