Irene came. I had coffee, got untorpid, cleaned my room. We filled up some bottles of water and laughed about how unprepared we were. I read some Lear, hoping to use the occasion to get something more out of the storm scene:
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head; and thou all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o'th'world,
Crack nature’s moulds, all germens spill at once
That makes ingrateful man.
We discovered that Netflix has disappointingly few streaming movies with Spanish subtitles. Children of the Corn was one of the few that does, and it lives up to its title. There are many shots of corn.
Around midnight ran around in Fort Greene Park. It was a good summer rain, but nature’s moulds were not cracked, nor were all germens observed spilling.
Later a tree fell across the street. Thankfully not the elegant gingko which belongs to our author-neighbor.
The kitchen roof leaked a whole lot. Around 3 a.m. Lucas put the puzzle together and noted that all the leaks on three floors of our house were really parts of the same leak. We went up to the roof and finally found the root of the problem: a hole in the gutter. Luckily, we had carrots and Chiclets.