And yet, despite the discomfort, I am terrified at the coming of autumn, less than half a summer away now.
I may be abandoning the story that, for three days, I've been trying to find my way into, the was-set-on-Mars-is-now-Death-Valley Wonderland story. It may not be something that will work for the anthology in question. I'm just not sure, and usually when I'm not sure it's best to assume the idea isn't right and move along to something else. Which, in this case, is sort of a shame, because I love the imagery, even if it has stubbornly refused to resolve into an actual story.
We went out for a late lunch, early dinner yesterday, to Trinity Brew Pub, downtown. The first time I've eaten a meal out since sometime in March. Anyway, as we were passing the central branch of the Providence Public Library, I spotted two thick books stacked in the middle of the road. Even from the van, I recognized them as library-bound periodicals. Spooky stopped and I retrieved them. Two volumes of The Nation, Vol. 123 (1926) and Vol. 155 (1946). It was a strange sight, indeed, and we carried them into the library, to the circulation desk. The librarian there sent us upstairs to the Reference Department, where we were informed that a lot of periodicals that had recently been put on microfiche (people still do that?) were being discarded. She checked, and those two volumes were among the discards. I thought it odd that no one seemed to find it the least bit peculiar that we'd found these two volumes stacked in the middle of the street. Anyway, we kept them. I can't just throw away ninety year old magazines; I don't know how anyone can. Now, I have to figure out what's to be done with them. I wish I'd taken a photo of them in the street, before I picked them up. I do have a theory about why they were in the street. The 1926 volume has a fresh imprint on one side that resembles nothing so much as the base of a car jack, and I suspect the books were used to help change a flat tire.
Dinner out consisted of a mildly serviceable, but overly sweet, pulled-pork sandwich. There really is no hope for decent BBQ in Rhode Island.
There was a huge red-orange moon, one night past full, hanging over Providence last night.
* They being the often-questionable repackaged meteorology-for-profit guys at Accuweather.