March 9, 2009

Dream before morning. I’m staying in the hills above a charming Irish seaside down. As I watch through the window, a great tidal wave comes up and swallows the town, recedes, leaving part of it and dragging part of it away. I’m staying with an extended, aristocratic family, and the reaction of everybody is something of a thrill. We decide to wait until morning so we can go down and pick among the ruins, discover what the sea has done to familiar places. Various threads of family soap opera spin around us as we wait till morning. It was all, in its way, quite beautiful. I suppose we all knew the town was conjured and no real souls were there to be lost.

Far from over, the day is developing into the first good one in a while. Did some work at the computer, then went to the Y where I did a cautious but unstinting weight set. Accepted Jason’s invitation to join him at the studio. We painted together for a while. I finished my piece (completely reworking the plan) while he made progress visible to him on his. Loki the greyhound was with us. But when I was too tired to paint more, I sat down in his easy chair and read while he painted– “hanging out,” as I have often been blamed for not doing. We talked sometimes about Manet or gouache; sometimes there was silence. It was a sweet and full afternoon, in the blinding light of first spring. I will not concede this aloud to anyone, but my irk at not getting to New York is less than it might have been. There is enough to do here.