(Snippets from the logbook)

...Strange dreams again. I must refrain from the single malt after ten o'clock. Water will do, but it has such a ghastly aftertaste! What dream will water stimulate?

...Good day yesterday. Mom and I to the cemetery with flowers, then to the Decoration Day parade in our old home village. Tractors, ponies, high school bands and relatives. Mom said, "Why has everything changed so much?" I said, "It hasn't. You have. It has been fifty-some years since you lived here last."

...Weather-wise we are better. The cool spring is past. I put the air conditioner into the bedroom window. I may get another one for the studio. I like the white noise they make. It doesn't suffer the traffic noise from the street below. Sounds like a loud cat purr.

...Why is everyone pissed at me about something? I have been getting many scowls. Should I grow another beard? Wear shades? Let my hair grow again? Actually, I could care less about other anger. My anger has a half-second half life. Ask my cats.

...I've been painting so much that my fingernails resemble Jackson Pollock works. I will keep it up until they look like Franz Kline! (But I would have to limit my colors!)

...More folks ask me "Who will you vote for?" I reply, "Do you mean 'For whom?'" Then they stare at me as if I just picked my nose. Maybe that's why I get the scowls. But I never answer the question.