June 26, 2010
Steve phoned late yesterday evening, and I went to him. We are to go to some sort of dance tonight, though I can’t figure out where it is. He was taking his girlfriend: whether he dropped her, we’ll be a threesome, or she was a fiction all along I don’t know. He did show me the photos of his two daughters, right after he showed me his favorite fortunes from the Chinese restaurant. When people are talking about what they’re doing tonight, I’m tempted to say, “I have a date,” but I suppose discretion to be preferable, at least for the moment. S is not the kind of person you share, except under very special circumstances. I’ll probably watch the US/Ghana match along with everybody else, then totter around Cambridge looking for a dance.
Began writing a play about Byron’s pool. Something has been “wrong” or “off” about this trip, something minor but pervasive, and I think it’s possible that I haven’t had a major project to be working on, haven’t had an anchor. Maybe this is it. The kids are looking after themselves; Jeff knows he can call on me if he needs me; I have no idea what S wants or needs in a run longer than a night; perhaps I am meant now to look after myself
Gave up the Lord Nelson Mass to watch the USA/Ghana match with the group. It was the right idea, though the match was a disappointment. The Yanks were never fully on the field. My immediate neighbors were French who, rude, malodorous, and hysterically anti-American, seemed like they were trying to fulfill as many stereotypes as they could in a short period of time.
I was on the castle mound when the moon rose blood red.
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