January 24, 2012


Two purple windflowers under the hard stars of morning.

JC came to my playwriting play to talk about his play that we saw together, and about the life and necessary skills of the playwright. He was wise and eloquent, and I thought, if he indeed wished to be one, that he is not a full-time academic is a pity. It’s gratifying to bring someone in who says all the same things you yourself have been saying. New student in class, languid and not fully present, non-participating, having missed the first two weeks of class and the play we were all discussing, who has never thought about theater but signed up for the class because she thought it might be “fun.” Later she reveals that she is pregnant, but needs to finish the semester because it’s already paid for, and she needed my class because if she’s not full-time, all her loans become due, or some such thing. There’s no end of contempt we endure for our life’s work, on one side from busy-work imposing, micro-managing administration, on the other from students who are so oblivious to their affect that they’ll tell you in precise detail how they are gaming you. She doodled a sort of deformed weightlifter all through class, though I am a great doodler myself, and really can say nothing. I think she thought I would think she was beautiful. Another drinks out of a huge flagon of water all through class, and must, therefore, leave class THREE TIMES to visit the restroom. One sighs and looks away.

Met J after his sojourn in China. He brought a waif to my office who talked a blue streak about I forget now what. The waif had the most amazing eyebrows, and the forward lean to her of people who are chronically ill.

Last night, peaceful sleep, but the night before, the most violent dreams I remember, ever, and the violence done by me. I beat with my angry fists–in the dream– the most surprising array of people. I’ve tried to figure out the implied antipathy, but come up with nothing.