January 5, 2013

In 2102 I wrote the plays The Mermaid, Night Music, Thanksgiving, as well as making major re-writes of Sleeping on the Beach, the Kings of the Earth Rise Up. Also short stories that won prizes, which I am too idle to look up just this moment. Many poems. This is not enough, but it is something to bar the door when the beasts are howling outside. That’s exactly the wrong image: to feed the wolves that are howling inside.

Downtown with a load of books from the department. Chan wanted not one of them, though I ended up buying two of his (to show there was no hard feelings) and a fossil trilobite. Downtown is hardly recognizable from the time I had the gallery and was down there every day. Bought cocoa that tasted like a chocolate cloud.

Probably will take the Christmas tree down today. I thought of apologizing to it for having the least Christmas spirit ever. But this has been its first experience with such a thing. Maybe it thinks I’m a happy, starry-eyed kid and that all things were magical for me through the holy season. I’ll let it think that. I’ll let it ride.

Determined to go out last night. But instead sat down and, despite the gin, finished the expansion of Ben and Angela. 

Sleeping heroically.        

Tolkien’s birthday.

Painted in oils today, as the pastels were so cold they wouldn’t adhere to the ground. Only stayed an hour before cold fatigue began to get to me.

Took down the Christmas tree, unsuccessful at fending off the astonishing sadness which come with that task. Cannot even look across the street, to the pile of trees where my tree lies.