Ray Carver and the heat domes of Mars

(In sff.net, talking about Raymond Carver . . . )

Have to admit, Dave, that in spite of all the fascinating tech stuff in your recommendations, the one I’m most likely to pick up next is the Carver bio. Loved that guy.

Carver was one of my teachers at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and we became pretty close drinking buddies. He was drinking way too much at that time, I’m afraid – as if I weren’t -- and I didn’t do anything to discourage it. (Though his real fellow dypsomaniac was John Cheever. They were both living at the Iowa Union, and the word was that they’d both wake up in one room or the other – no romance implied, just lack of mobility after downing a bottle or two of scotch.)

Did 1100 words yesterday! Walked through the woods for about a half-hour, not far enough to get lost. Hearty dinner of stuffed cabbage and mashed potatoes. Stayed up till about eleven, chatting by the bonfire, very pleasant.

I had my half-glass of wine. Circumstances have given me a long-term supply . . . the guy who went grocery shopping didn’t know anything about wine, and so for “Pinot Noir” he got a strange, not to say ghastly, large bottle of cheap Pinot flavored with blackberry. <glyph for finger down throat> But I can put a tablespoon of it in a glass of water, and it doesn’t taste too bad in that dilution.

Did a little drawing of the "mule," the little truck, on my 5X5" tablet -- but ran out of space! Drawing from the rear bumper, I ran out of paper just past the driver’s seat -- what a beginner's bumble. I'll try again on the larger notebook I brought, mixing ink and watercolor.

It was comparatively warm on the island. In fact, I had an experience that’s never happened before . . . I went for a walk in the afternoon, into the dark woods on the western side of the island – and suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a waft of hot dry air. Then another. Like some huge invisible creature breathing! I walked toward the water (didn’t get quite to the edge; high tide) and saw an explanation: the island to the west had been baking in the sun, and when the wind shifted it carried the hot air across the short channel.

No complaints, reading about “heat domes” in the Midwest and east (sounds like an old George Pal special effect). It only got up to the mid-70’s and was cool enough at night to need a flannel shirt.

The writing is going well. So far I’m just working on the novel. Might take a crack at a short story later on. Eight more days.

Joe