February 5, 2011

Fair day. There were parts of it during which, if you were handling a spade and ripping out skeins of ivy root with your hands, you might have broken a sweat. When I wasn’t prematurely addressing my garden, I was painting. Good work, I think, a couple of things hauled to the framer. Still a sizeable pool in the middle of the floor.

I think part of the reason I sleep so much now is that I prefer, for the moment anyway, the life I have in dreams. It also crosses my mind that even with all my projects, I do not have quite enough to fill my days. I’m going to keep that a secret. To the cats, regarding naps, I am still an amateur.

Night: moderated the discussion of a new play by a local playwright at 35 Below for Elisabeth Gray’s group, New Umbrella. The playwright was much better than the play. He was on the wrong track, but all necessary talent was clearly there. What was amazing to me was that the room was full of local people interested in new theater, and I didn’t know a single one of them, except Rock Eblen. This is a much larger town than one expects.