December 15, 2007

Tree-trimming party at Amy and Bill’s. Ate way too much and finished the evening barfing into the rhododendrons, the curved moon riding high and pure above.

Tom B wanted to go to a movie. I wanted to go with him, but the messages crossed in the dark of space.

Tom D at coffee this morning, him cruising girls ever younger and slimmer, me never knowing when the conversation is slamming up against a wall of concupiscent distraction. My students kept coming into Starbucks to get coffee with their parents before winter graduation, asking if I were going to be at commencement, and I kept lying, “yes.” It actually wasn’t a lie when I said it, but became one when the time came and I was not there.

Churning out pages of copy but writing nothing.

Neighbor John buys me cheesecake. Tom gives me a Blake calendar. Leland gives me new white shoes. The Desert Star Award turns out to be a lovely, heavy, clear plastic star inscribed with my name and Anna Livia, Lucky in Her Bridges, which can be placed on the mantel for minor showing-off purposes.