August 14, 2013

Meeting at the Apothecary-that-was confirming our intention to begin again at the Apothecary-that-is-to-be. Our new landlord loves as much as the old landlords squirmed at the thought of us. The boys are all happy and full of renewed energy. The YMI is a difficult places, because Black Asheville apparently wants nothing to do with it and everything White Ashevillians do there is problematic, either inappropriate or tokenism. Not that it ever was those things, but that people will seize any chance to use words like those to make themselves feel sensitive and offended, angling for some advantage, some moment of regard. A UNCA professor lectured poor Frank that even though no African American organization had wanted the space, we should have left it vacant to demonstrate that no organization entitled to it could afford it. David Starkey sniped at us from upstairs, his absolutely incomprehensible conviction of authority carrying him through one humiliation after another. But down in the River Arts District we are birds amid our flock. Nathan will probably premiere his Cthulu opera there.

Went to school and put together syllabi. I was sad. It was maybe as simple at the fact that the radio didn’t work, and the computer said that the radio enabler of my wireless had been “disabled,” and of course I imagined the administration disabling it so we stuck to our work and didn’t listen to the radio. The sad part of that is that it’s not an entirely farfetched idea.