A Painting and a Poem

I could write about what a surreal day it was in Pillville today. Or about how I cried at breakfast this morning with someone I'd just met when I told her about Dan.

And I might tell you all that. Tomorrow.

But tonight I keep thinking of this painting and this poem. The poem was written a couple of decades before the painting, and probably the poet and the painter had never even heard of one another.

Here's the painting, seen on my recent visit to LACMA:

The poem, from the Poets.org website:

My Light With Yours by  Edgar Lee Masters When the sea has devoured the ships, And the spires and the towers Have gone back to the hills. And all the cities Are one with the plains again. And the beauty of bronze, And the strength of steel Are blown over silent continents, As the desert sand is blown— My dust with yours forever. II When folly and wisdom are no more, And fire is no more, Because man is no more; When the dead world slowly spinning Drifts and falls through the void— My light with yours In the Light of Lights forever!

24 hours, 27 minutes, 51.39999 seconds (I'm estimating) Part 2

The book salon was delicious and full of animated discussion. The book, "A Debt to Pleasure" by John Lanchester was a wonderful inspiration for my friend Elizabeth's cooking talents. Provencal fish soup, rich aioli, tomatoey something or other, salade verte, espresso creme brûlée. We drank Pim's Cup and Lillet. I love trying new drinks. As for the book--the verdict was mixed. Some people were on to the fact early on that the narrator was a psychopath, and they did not find that his wit did much to redeem him. For me, the neon sign that flashed DANGER! did not light up until page 78. By the time I realized our protagonist was a murderer, I was deeply intrigued with the goings on and wanted to watch it all unfold. His narcissism amused me. Which might explain a couple of my unfortunate life choices.

This morning I awoke after a weird and remarkable dream:
I was at some sort of retreat or artist's residency with a few dozen of us milling around with our laptops and tote bags full of manuscripts. There was a man that I found entertaining. Short and slender with white hair and pale skin, he made me laugh every time I ran into him. He's falling for you, one of my friends told me. Average white guys don't interest me, I told her. Then his mother came to visit. She was Japanese. I realized I hadn't really looked at the guy who was falling for me. Somehow everything fast forwarded, and he and I were lying on a blanket on the beach. He told me he wanted things to work out with us; that he wanted us to be a couple. 

I woke, sat up in bed, and swung my feet onto the floor. Oh my god, I said, am I falling in love?!

Oh wait. It was a dream. There is no guy.

But in honor of all that, I guess, I went to LACMA and to the Pavilion of Japanese Art,

where I looked at a Netsuke  exhibit. The very first carving made me laugh out loud because of the title "Badger Imitating a Priest." All of the netsuke in this exhibit were animals and some of the other animals were imitating priests too. I don't know a thing about the deeper meaning of all that.

And this guy, "Meditating Monk Annoyed by a Fly" made me laugh too.

LACMA is really a gorgeous place. I've always loved it there. Maybe it's the red.

Oh, and maybe the over 100, 000 works of art.