October 18, 2013

Overslept wondrously, but feel great, so I must have needed it. Late dreams all had to do with painting. Possibly this is because there was a meeting of Eagle Street Playwrights at the house last night, and towering Daniel presented me with a painting he had done of the death mask of Keats. He has been painting for eight days, he and his friend Tad aver, and there is much in the work that is quite sophisticated. It is astonishing to receive a gift. A less welcome gift from loud Jack was the rumor (probably, now that I consider it, the truth) that the Apothecary has been rented out from under us. The boys insisted on a month-to-month lease for our benefit, but we see how those thing can turn. It is a pleasure to watch Tad and Daniel together, their sympathy, their interdependence, their telepathy, the almost comic mismatch of their persons. I found myself loving them. Formerly drunken Daniel has tetotalled for months now, and looks great, even though every time I forget and stupidly offer him a drink. He took grape juice.