June 4, 2009

Linda drove up from Atlanta for a visit. She makes me regard closely the ways my life would have been different had I had a family. I certainly would have had less time to brood on my own ends.

We went to NC Stage to see I Wrote This Play So You Would Love Me, an original piece by Anne Thibault, an actress I’d seen in their Proof. As a playwright, I tend to be hypercritical of other living playwrights’ works, but this play was well performed and very well written, funny and immediate. It has the air of a showcase (it’s hard to imagine anyone but Thibault herself doing it), but if I were a producer or a casting director watching it, I would be convinced. Hans was droll and touching as all the men in her life. The house was sparse, and the people on both sides of us left at intermission. They were old folks, so maybe the language was just too salty, or the discourse on rim jobs just too precise. Zambra’s for tapas afterward, where Matt Shepherd, looking very Mediterranean, took care of us.

We talked about how Linda’s children can be so good looking when none of us are.

Toured the Carl Sandburg in Flat Rock. I had been there with TD, but remembered only the goats. The goats are still there, playful and oblivious– they reminded me of giant cats. What I’ll remember most this time is the lone goose hunkered down in the grass by the pond, almost close enough to touch, but still wild. Where was her flock? Bought a CD of frog calls. Linda headed home and I headed to the studio, where I painted with J until a few minutes ago. He already has a sort of harem there, people streaming in for his advice on painting and, I think, sometimes just to bask in his warmth.