August 29, 2009

Early morning. J has me eating a protein supplement, claiming it would raise the metabolism and keep drowsiness away from of my current exercise-and-diet regime, and he seems to be right.

Ran into Michael C’s birthday party at the Usual; hiked to Darren’s at Asheville Pizza & Brewing. Festive, unexpectedly low-key in each case. My own birthday Tuesday looks to be almost uncelebratable, with all the duties that hedge it about.

Accomplishments slender for several days, but I have been happy. Concentrating on classes, exercise, letting the beard grow. I did buy myself a ticket and a hotel room in London for Thanksgiving week. Transferred from Paddington to Russell Square, where I can fall from my front door into the British Museum. Leave the day after Hamlet closes.

Broke the mold of the last few days with a whirl of activity. Exceeded three miles in running today, my mind lost to the pain, and boredom, by running lines from Hamlet in my head. Spent time with J in the studio, though I never actually lifted a paintbrush. Spent time in the office downstairs archiving old poems, and in finding some that could be re-written and resurrected. Progress on that front surprising, gratifying, to me, glorious. The lost have come home to me. Dug away some of the tropical overgrowth of the garden. Scratched many insect bites. Planted sky-blue iris for the spring to come.