Time moves faster and I move slower. Seems to be a correlation here. If I moved faster, would time move slower? There is only one way to find out and that’s to get into better shape. This is at the bottom of my list of things to do, which is very lengthy, in distance from here to the moon and back.

Today I went back in time. I went to a meeting at the Senior Center where five others were in attendance. Milena was going to come – she came, late but she was there. So cool, calm, poised; this as opposed to my not so cool, frantic, on edge self. She came in

the door as I realized that my mouth and throat were dry and that I needed water. I thought, shit, I don’t have my outdoorsy Nalgene bottle with me. No fun, spittle sucking. But this is what I did, for an hour and fifteen minutes.

All present were very enthused about hopping on the Bright Lights Book Project train. They did have questions about speed, velocity, and the building. We momentarily ground to a stop when I could not provide any details about the building except to say that Tam, The Executive Director of the Recycling Center, told Pete and me about it, and that the Borough administrators said that we were first on the list to acquire it. I did not say what I was thinking, that most likely it’s a tee pee and we’ll have to pay with wampum. If so, I thought, it would be hard to store books in the dang thing.

There are a multitude of details involved in this potential lease transaction. A very odd thought has been keeping my mind at ease and this is that there are going to be many hoops to jump through. This makes all that must be done seem more tangible to me.

I learned about administrative hoops when I was working, first on my thesis and then on my dissertation. In both instances I saw my having to leap through them all as being near impossible.

But I did it. The MFA hoops were difficult too because I’d never before had to take on my own administrative activities. By the time I got the P ache D I had some experience at this, but the task was made more daunting because I was not encouraged to follow though with my own interest,
 which was the composing process of writers. For shame.

I left the room feeling as though I had the support and backing of the Palmer Senior Center staff.

I next had lunch with Milena; then after I went to the meeting house. There I walked in the door and groaned because before me were 17 bins of books. They’d been left in the front area, which meant that I had to move them. As I was pondering this one, two volunteers came in the door. I put them to work cleaning books. They might continue on, a good thing.

Tomorrow, paper airplane day at the senior center.

Next: 144. 5/ 26/22: The Good Weather Continues