— There is only one four-way intersection on the island. No stoplights. The intersection is referred to one and all as “The Four Corners.” “Excuse me, can you tell me where the bank is?” “The Four Corners.” “Got it.”
— I spent the morning wandering around the Southeast Lighthouse, which is so beautiful and so intense I almost felt like I was mainlining some awesome drug of choice. This is the lighthouse that was moved, about a decade ago, because the cliffs were crumbling beneath it. It is a huge beautiful brick structure, with the glimmering mirrored lighthouse tower fat and squat. There was nobody about this morning, a sunny crisp morning, and the ocean was blindingly bright, streatching off in all directions. What can I say. I’m from the Ocean State. It is the landscape of my dreams, my comfort, where I want to always be. It’s an old lighthouse, a national landmark, and I had a really good private time there this morning.
— I am reading Titan: The Life of John D. Rockefeller, Sr., by Ron Chernow (whom I will love forever for his Alexander Hamilton book) – Titan is his book on John D. Rockefeller, and, as always, Chernow’s writing is elegant, evocative, and highly intelligent. John D. Rockefeller is emerging before my eyes. He hasn’t even gotten into the oil business yet. He’s just a young man. It’s a huge book, daunting really, but I am very glad I have started it. I am learning a lot – not just about him, but of the economy at that time.
— I have been writing in a journal again. It makes me feel a bit silly, like a lovesick schoolkid, but it has been good for me. It’s certainly exercising the writing muscles again. Which, I suppose if you read my blog may seem ridiculous – she needs to exercise? But I do, I really do. Writing down long passionate entries about my “feelings” have been pretty much forbidden for the last 3 or 4 years. Nothing much to write about. But I am forcing myself to, and I can feel ideas for other things start to bubble up.
— I am now pretty much in love with Loretta Young, in her pre-Code movies. It was her birthday yesterday, I believe, and TCM had a marathon. I am not as wacky about later Loretta Young, although she is always lovely and natural – but her early 1930s stuff cannot be beat. Wow.
— Also reading a book of interviews with Roman Polanski (what a mind), and also the letters of Maud Gonne and WB Yeats. Dear Maud, you are a WACKO, but I love you anyway.
— Trying to read again. Creating the mental space for it again, despite how ragged everything has felt over the last year – a sort of scattering of my focus.
— My little house is so cute. There’s even a roll-top desk. And a front porch. I love my room too. I am sleeping like the DEAD. Going to bed early, waking up early.
— I arrived out here in the middle of the big storm we just had. The ferry ride was rough (although I am sure it could have been rougher) – the boat climbing up the waves, then climbing down into the holes left by the waves, the spray flying over the bow. It was awesome and beautiful. That ferry boat. My, she is yar.
— Walking on the beach.
— Walking around a frozen pond at sunset, watching the big dunes waving in the freezing night wind off to the north.
— I am going to go to the Southeast Light every day. I’ll never get enough of that spot.