Six thirty. I feel drained and tired from yesterday’s heat and activity. I don’t have to do the food pantry today. This morning is overcast and cool. I’m curious about William Blake again, and would like to read his epic Milton. I don’t really remember his shorter books either, except the image of Newton blasting the last trump of doom, whereupon the angels fall from heaven and crash to earth like meteorites. This occurs in Europe: a Prophecy. Blake didn’t like the empiricist philosophers either. He reacted against Hume with “There Is No Natural Religion.” I love his idea of building Jerusalem on England’s green and pleasant land. For him, God is very much alive, and the time of the prophets is not over with. Through the Poetic Genius, people make God a reality. It’s similar to the creative storytelling of Yes music. “And I heard a million voices singing / Acting to the story that they had heard about.”
Ten o’clock. I did some digging and found my Penguin copy of Blake, the one my dad bought me for my birthday at the university bookstore after I graduated. It includes all the poetry. Also I ran across my biography of Joyce in another box. It was my first purchase from Barnes and Noble when they opened in Eugene in November 1993. A beautiful book… I just got home from those places around the corner that I frequent. Aesop needed canned food, and I added his favorite bacon strips. I stopped at the salon and made an appointment for a haircut: Tuesday at eleven o’clock. Karen asked me if I was good at moving furniture and I said no, my back is bad. I had a chocolate filled donut and took off. A lot of people were outside this morning. Roger was buffing the hood of his truck with an electric drill. It’s good to have something you really like. Now Aesop is ready for breakfast.