Quincy

 July 30, 2026

Hancock Street goes up at the Ruth Gordon Amphitheater in Quincy, Mass. That play has been done twice in Mass, though under different titles, first at Williamstown. 

After storms and heat, today was cool, sharp as glass, each object radiant.

Watched my cleaning ladies leave after their service, wondering what they thought of me from looking at my house and my things.  

Lunch with DJ and J and L. DJ was trapped in his chair during the black-out– the afflictions you don’t think of unless you’re experiencing them. 

Tempest

 July 29, 2026

Putting things back together after the spectacular storm that struck last night at dusk, the worst we’ve seen since Helene. The power failed early on, and stayed off until morning. The man at Sav-Mor said the power was off for twelve hours. I hadn’t thought until I heard him that an inconvenience for me was a catastrophe for him, with all those booths of frozen food thawing into mush. I called him because of a tree I believe to be on their property leaning crazily above the wires. Will probably discover it was on my property all the while (despite being outside the fence). Reset the pond motor. It’s always so slow to show progress that I don’t know yet if the reset was successful. On phone and email read a half dozen warnings and notices about severe weather, including a tornado warning. I heard the ghostly tornado sirens, the second time since 1983 that I’ve done so. One scoffs at tornadoes in the mountains, but one scoffed once a hurricanes, too. Went upstairs and painted until the light was wholly too low. When the rain stopped I sat on the porch and took in the night, there being nothing else to do. With all lights off, the night is luminous, the south cleared enough that the full moon lent almost-day glory to the garden and the street. It was quite beautiful, the white flowers, hydrangea, hibiscus, startling in the dim, the red flowers so bright they showed their colors. Drank Valpolicella and had one of my out-of-the-body sessions. Minutes of bliss, hard to recollect or justify afterwards. I know that to dwell in the present room of my life brings peace. What I don’t know is if I’m meant to seek peace, or victory in the battles that I believe have been set before me. 

From the attic window it seems the sky is clouding up again. With all that should be tended to, the Republicans are grilling Fauci on a diary he kept ten years ago. The Republican Party is driven by nothing but the thirst for power without responsibility, and for revenge. Should I sit in the dark and look at my flowers? The Leaden Voice whispers, “What else can you do?”

Finally listening to the whole of Akhenaton. Dear God, how did people sit through that? I hope all the singers were naked.

 

July 28, 2026

Interesting turbulence continues. Vivid dreams. I examine the coffee table for crumbs of what I ate before bed when I was already drunk. 

Frogs

 July 26, 2026

Drive to the Farmer’s Market for bluejay peanuts and sauces the farm ladies make that I have not yet tasted. Incredible traffic jams on I-26 turned that into an ordeal. 

The most amazing peace at the moment, I painting on a little river scene, Renaissance music coming from Alexa, the calling of frogs through the window from the sultry night. It has been a turbulent week, so the peace is doubly precious. It was available to me the whole time, but I felt something was being achieved by cultivating turbulence, like an arm of the sea convinced it can break through the cliffs if it just tried hard enough. 

O, I was so terrible most of my life. Why do I see it now? There can be no hope of amends– most of those who could have been damaged by me are dead. Why even think of it? Am I meant to take this as proof of Afterlife, that all that late-come wisdom should not be wasted? The crying of the frogs are benediction. Perhaps I am forgiven. Perhaps it has all been forgotten except by me. 

Anniversary

 July 25, 2026

Mother’s 102nd birthday. I found a photo of her on this day in 1945.

SW is dead. We were together from first grade forward. Her having been born in Tokyo was a sensation each first-day-of-school show-and-tell. When I decided to teach myself piano, I asked her to show me middle C. I have thought of her often, wondering where she was. Now I know. 

Alarming stains across my arm are, I recall now, the stain of the poke berries I weeded out last night. 

At loose ends, though, oddly, not in a disturbing way. In a way that makes me think that something inside me is taut with anticipation. 

 July 24, 2026

Rolling thunder, the voices of treefrogs from the fence line. Bad day. Many naps. I wonder if it is really that chorus issue that brings me down. I do think about it and grieve over it. As with the UNCA Humanities program, I saw a beautiful thing on the brink of ruin, and chose the wrong way to bring it back, or the right way and merely failed. Ray of joy when I was seated at the downstairs desk and a rabbit (looking oddly red in the light) scampered into my grass. I rejoiced because I felt he was now safe. I didn’t go out into the lawn because I wanted him to feel utterly undisturbed. 

Tropical rains

 

July 23, 2026

MB is dead. We became fast friends when we were Zeus and Hera in a Theater UNCA Metamorphosis. A witty, engaged, interesting woman. It’s  a shock when one of us goes, though it is past the time when it should be. It could be any of us at any minute. 

T writes this response to my resignation from the planning committee. No other response yet: 

Blueridgeboy. Hi David, 

     I was quite saddened to hear that you are stepping away from the creative team. I hope my comments didn't contribute to happening. I do feel your voice is an important one as I desire, and think the choir needs, to sing the kind of pieces you recommend. I want to be more of a voice for this type of music but I'm fairly ignorant, having invested much more of my life in musical theater, this is the perspective I bring to the group.

     I'm less certain now of the need for narrative in our shows than I was when we began planning Happily Ever After. From a narrative standpoint I believe the show was successful, but I agree that the narrative element strained our choices to several pieces I ended up being less than enthusiastic about. I do believe there is room for these songs in our shows, but they played a heavy hand in this last production. I would like to put forth my vision for how we move forward with shows in the future.

      I think we should see "The Holiday's are a Drag" concept through, which inevitably means bowing a little to narrative, but I believe we struck a good balance with last years show and we could continue to achieve this as long as there is someone fighting for those "traditional" pieces. I'm not certain if you saw my proposal for next spring, but in it I suggested a "theme" which could be so loosely interpreted as to allow us to do anything at all. I feel that this approach worked for "Love Unafraid", and I think it is an approach that could work in the future. By selecting a theme which is broad in scope, there is plenty of room at the table for the pieces that you are passionate about and that I want to sing.

   I feel that all the members of our group have valuable things to contribute. B leads us beautifully, JM's "Pink Christmas" choreography was great fun, M's suggestion of the cloggers was brilliant, and I'd rather sing B2's "Biblical" than "Still the One" or "We Kiss in a Shadow" (which I unfortunately contributed). However the core of the music selection came down to you, Michael, and myself, and I regret that your voice wasn't a louder one. I respect N's drive and his efforts in finding us a venue, but good heavens does the man get on my nerves, and more importantly I get the feeling that he is going to add little to our music selection process. And though I adore M and his many talents, I'm not always a fan of his taste in music. But everything you have ever put forth in my time with the group have been songs I could see myself singing, and enjoying. Once again I let myself be too constrained by narrative and may have dismissed suggestions of yours due to this, but you are the one person in the group who has not put forth at least one song that made me roll my eyes. 

     I understand wanting to step away for a time, but I hope you know that your opinion is valued, and in my opinion, necessary to this group. If your decision is final for this concert I hope that you will consider rejoining us in the spring. Thank you for everything you give this choir.

Thomas 

*

His view of things is accurate. He is in fact at fault for pinning us to skits of junior high talent show quality, and then wanting us to pick music somehow illustrative thereof. I’m given to understand this is usual in the gay chorus world, but it all but necessitates weak music selection. Not to be associated with “Rudy the Red Haired Drag Queen” is a thorn taken from my side.  

DJ and R and I went to see The Odyssey last night. Liked it. Ate as much popcorn as I have in the last five years. Reminded of all the reasons I don’t drive to the cinema anymore. Still, liked it. 

Intermittent tropical rains. I could no keep my head of the pillow.