August 22, 2008

Evening, minutes before I have to put on my motley for the play. I think my groundhog is gone. He’s not in his usual place, and hasn’t been for several days. Could be that Carolyn’s being back in her house above him was too much tumult. He was very calm, a little burrowing boddhisatva.

Back in school, I can’t keep up with the watering. My poor little garden must fend for itself until come some hurricane from the south. I have to say that I bear a grudge against the climate these days, holding off rain as a brat holds some bauble all to himself. It is ludicrous. It is unnatural. I have forgotten what it is like to see these grounds in rain.

I must find some center. Everything I do in a day is done quickly, with fury at delays and crosses, to get through to the central, significant thing, but what is that?

Have been wishing that my father was more vivid to me. When I remember him, it is always a long time ago, when I was a kid, or before that, not a memory at all but a fantasy from before I could have known him at all.

I look late at my email and see requests, sent last night, from former students for recommendations that would have been due today. I throw my hands into the air, even though none can appreciate the gesture, wondering what can possibly be done.

Watch the beach volleyball finals of the Olympics, screaming profanities, which I recognized as my method of cheering.

Jameson Currier is the man behind Queer Type, which I suppose I should have known if I paid better attention. Danny Hamm asks me to be his friend on Facebook. I delight to be back in touch. If I understood what he wrote, he’s in China. His photo looks like a punk kid from the 50's. This is a good thing. Michael Minor is still fighting, his wife still building a mountain of faithfulness and desperate eloquence. The postcards for my show, Night, are glossy on both sides so that it is almost impossible to write addresses on them. I recognize how small this is in the scheme of things, but I sit with my head bowed with disappointment for a good two minutes anyway.