October 14, 2011

When I rose to go to the Y, there was just enough light to invoke a soft gleam from the many colors of the trees, above which the round moon slid down the west, which it made blue-silver with its passage.

My honors students have begun their class reports on various geniuses in their estimation, and I’ve never been prouder of any group. I should have just shut my mouth long ago and let them have their say. Charlotte introduced us to Theo Jansen, of whom I had never heard before, but who instantly revolutionized, with his almost living beasts, my concept of what art and imagination are for. The actions of the demiurge have always seemed dark and blasphemous to me, Doctor Frankensteins of various ranks and abilities, but here the demiurgical labor is sweet and playful as a child with a box of toys, as an infant God with his new playthings strewn about a white-hot universe. Everyone was eloquent and engaged, a teacher’s dream.

Planted a few things, but otherwise gave over most of the day to recovering from the week. Need to see half a dozen plays full of my friends playing about the city, but, trapped by my own role, will probably see none. Tomorrow promises to be swallowed up by “wet tech.”

Maud manages to get herself locked in a closet all night. How she latched the door behind herself I don’t know. When she was banging to get out I thought it was someone trying to break in the front door. I thought, "You idiot! All the lights are on!"