March 13, 2009

Steve the fish guy brought angelfish yesterday. They give a new dimension to the tank, vast silver and tiger-stripe clouds floating behind the little tetras I’m used to. They are capable of disappearing amid my little clump of waterweeds. I have looked for them for five minutes before one of them turned and flashed from the dark corner.

Today would be dad’s 90th birthday.

Cocktails and supper last night in support of NC Stage. All was convivial, and I met new people that I am glad to have met. Struck up a rapport with my silver fox host, and we vowed to get together and see more of each other; that’s the sort of thing I always mean and others seldom do, so I never know exactly how to proceed. One used to be a simple and passive consumer of the arts–a ticket and a show--but now there’s more responsibility. One feels that one is everybody’s father and must somehow provide. Everyone is out of money. One believes that the money which once was everywhere must be somewhere, but the truth is that, like the conjuring of a sorcerer, much of it never was at all.