Blazing sun

Courtesy of Random Walks, here's more on Philip Whalen, who died last week and who was cremated in Colma on Saturday:

• Woods Lot
• A Whalen chapbook and biography at BigBridge
• Jack Magazine
• Jacket Magazine (scroll down)

I had a near-death experience myself last week. I was in the basement walking on the treadmill when I heard a crash upstairs and a yowl from Cris. I jumped off the treadmill and tried to scamper to the stairs to make sure she was okay. (She had had wrist surgery a couple days before to cure the ol' carpal tunnel syndrome, and I was afraid something might have fallen on her.) But I never made it to the stairs. Attempting to negotiate the basement clutter, I skipped over a box, landed on another, and then skidded into a big wire cage Cris keeps around in case she has to catch a feral cat. I wound up on my butt with a number of scrapes and abrasions, but I landed so awkwardly I was just glad I hadn't broken my leg. It was that kind of uncontrollable fall when you realize something bad's going to happen, but before you know it, you're on your ass in a pile.

I staggered upstairs and Cris -- who was fine, nothing had happened except the handle came off the oven -- bandaged me and sat me down in front of the TV for the evening. So much for exercising that night.