Sunday, September 12, 2021San Juan Bautista, CA [Candid mid-day conversation in the front room as Frances tells of this morning’s coffee dream] Tim –What woke me up just before 7:00 o’clock this morning? Frances crying. Terribly crying, in her sleep, heart wrenching to hear. I was thinking, O my God, she’s having a nightmare about […]
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MacGregor & Gallopaway October 19, 1985Dear Steve, Kelly, and Karen, I don’t feel like writing this letter, but I stamped and addressed 23 envelopes and they’re in my way. This truck is crowded, I mean STUFFED. All we need now is your dog, Karen. I’d kill myself. I almost do all the time anyway, bumps and bruises, because I
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Tim pie face circa 1980, not of Frances’s dream January 12, 1989 I woke from this dream. Timothy and I are sitting on top of a very large apple pie, a mountain of apple pie. I dig my finger into the middle, it turns to crisp paper, which we peel back. We are on the
Frances’s fake glower surrounded by books and shoes from the second hand store Mountain View, CA, 1985 When Timothy and I moved to Silicon Valley we lived in a chicken coop for almost two months. Rent was so outrageously high that we decided to camp out of our VW bug. Even a lousy roach-infested hotel
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Mountain View: July 2, 1984 We live in a chicken coop. Across the street from Tim’s job at Acuson. Every weeknight, Sunday through Thursday, we wait until dark and drive back into the old walnut orchard behind the house that’s set for demolition – broken windows, floor strewn with litter: old books and magazines, a
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Escape, in several dimensions May 1988 FIRST NIGHT OUT, the great escape has at long last begun. Two weeks ago yesterday was our last day of 8 to 5 work, and we had planned to go up into the sticks immediately for a few weeks, then return to Santa Cruz for final preparations (mechanical, printing
Clear Creek, near San Benito Mountain, California, 1988 Tuesday, May 17th We found this camp on the way out last week, I remembered it from when we came in Saturday night, the first camp, now empty. We like it a lot. Plenty of trees, pretty flat, separated from the road by a short driveway, down.
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February 5-7, 1982 Ballard District, Seattle, Washington We leave the Sunset Hotel, where we live. We come out of the alley, around the corner. Half way down the block three men are tearing off the facing of an old building, on a ladder and leaning over the roof, with claw hammers and a crow’s foot. One
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Frances, “There’s a dog at our door, Timothy.” Tim, “They’re really loud, the mice.” (Frances: I lay on my stomach on the big bed, kissed and rekissed the inside of Timothy’s knees… I had a feeling of great warmth. Then I heard the scratching on our front door.) We get up, flip on the porch light
Driving “Emma” the truck from California to Idaho TUESDAY, December 27, 1988. Tim: We got a late start but made it without incident from Santa Cruz to Fairfield … Frances: … where we stopped and I used a pay phone to get the weather conditions: Highway 80 was open, but chains required at Applegate, which is