November 8, 2007

A bright cool day has become a purple cold night. Good classes today. Good students. I do try to remember my college classes, recalling how much I was engaged with them, how much they sparked my curiosity or shuddered my soul. I think they began to rock me seriously in graduate school; I give my students the benefit of that remembrance, murmuring, “You have time.”

I think I have ended my association with Laurel of Asheville. They “didn’t have room” for my December column, which I had thought of as a little masterpiece. Well, these things have their beginnings and their ends. Let’s see if anybody notices.

Seven thousand more in the red over this damn furnace, Something has to happen quick. I don’t think I’m going to New York for the premiere of Winter Birds, as I might have done without a second thought six months ago. Part of it is money. Part of it is the roaring hell of airports in the days around Thanksgiving.