Three things from DAH. The There There: Where the heart is.

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. 
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First up this week: Last … 
Do you crave bespoke shoes? A last is "a wooden or metal form which is shaped like the human foot and over which a shoe is shaped or repaired" (Merriam-Webster). In graduate school I knew men and women who were going off to work in the woods, often firefighting. Several were getting custom-fitted White's Boots. Without even traveling to Spokane for fitting. I have no experience with bespoke dress shoes. But I thought the bespoke work boots were a pretty interesting thing. When I'm thinking of my last (final) pair of shoes, perhaps there will be a custom last. But I doubt it. I don't think that I'm a bespoke sort of person. 

Second up this week, Lost …
I'm too often lost. Too often lost these days, anyway. I'm sure it's due to another lost year (almost all days of all years since summer 2019 for DAH). "Lacking assurance or self-confidence : uncertain as to direction or location : bewildered" (Merriam-Webster). Oh, I've moments, sometimes days, when collected, confident, and clearheaded. But I need a few more, moments, days, months, and years. I'm working on it. Sometimes, I'm working on it. I can imagine objectives. Now I need to select bite-sized bits of objective. Stepping stones to success. Doing so is up to me. Which makes me feel just a little more confident, thinking so.

Third up this week, Lust …
When superficial, I lust for bespoke whatever. I know from experience this particular lust won't last. I recognize it for what it is: laziness born of spontaneous or ill-considered desire (not even in some fun sensual way). Since I don't want to be that sort of person (although something fun and sensual would be silly to reject), I'll instead let that lust pass, and focus on a general lust for life. I love being eager and enthusiastic. And I love feeling lusty, as in feeling joyful and flourishing. Or with the potential to feel joyful and flourishing. Finding what's lost, or constructing on a new psychological last, I'm in. 

A book I thought I'd already read …  
Arsenic and Adobo, by Mia P. Manansala
But I hadn't already read it. Just looked at it many times. I guess now the time was right for food and foul-play. It was a fast and fun read, a cozy mystery with food, family, and friends. And short chapters. It reminds me rather of Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers (by Jesse Q. Sutanto), recommended in this space a few weeks ago. But featuring Fillipino rather than Chinese food. Lots of heart and too many secrets, which all get sorted in the end. A gentle and uncomplicated summer escape. 

And a bit more: 

"Warming Her Pearls"
by Carol Ann Duffy
(for Judith Radstone)

Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress
bids me wear them, warm them, until evening
when I'll brush her hair. At six, I place them
round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her,

resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk
or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself
whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering
each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope.

She's beautiful. I dream about her
in my attic bed; picture her dancing
with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent
beneath her French perfume, her milky stones.

I dust her shoulders with a rabbit's foot,
watch the soft blush seep through her skin
like an indolent sigh. In her looking-glass
my red lips part as though I want to speak.

Full moon. Her carriage brings her home. I see
her every movement in my head.... Undressing,
taking off her jewels, her slim hand reaching
for the case, slipping naked into bed, the way

she always does.... And I lie here awake,
knowing the pearls are cooling even now
in the room where my mistress sleeps. All night
I feel their absence and I burn.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's "Sometimes"