September 1 2007
What sort of thing to mention. Lower I mentioned that I was working on a translation of a work by an other named Koneczny. Well, I found that there were many inaccuracies, because I often check facts when I am dealing with proper names and names of places, and I was not impressed. But I am a translator, and it is not my place to make corrections. Some statements were so vague that they had no place beside statements of fact. This is not to say that this author did not have some striking insights. But I did not wish to tar my name with an association with it. I gave my translation to those who asked for it, and said I did not want payment, I did not want my name associated with the publication of the translation, and that even in many spots I could not guarantee the accuracy of my translation.

Anyways, on March 25, at 5:00, the dog died. The dog was sick for a long time, and in the last days unable to walk. But I thought that if the dog still wants to eat and drink and accepts my help, then the dog wants to live. In the last few days, the dog got sick to the stomach, could'nt hold down food either way, then on the last day refused to drink water. There was no doubt about it. And then the dog died. And it is August, and of all the things that go through my head, this still goes through my head most often.

I've taken recently a break from painting. I gave recent paintings to my brother, to sell at his discretion. I have turned my creative force to music and songs, and some results can be seen at : hyoobear.blogspot.com

So I buried the dog on the first day of spring. It was sort of perfect timing, because she died on the first day the ground could be dug. Just lately, in August, an animal attempted to dig there, so I heaped earth and debris on top, and this prevented further digging.