November 10, 2013

Yesterday began in autumnal brightness, which I spent inside, first singing and then at the River District Studio Stroll. Isaiah-like, I warned my visitors to take it all in now, as the district is going corporate, and scruffy independents like myself are almost all squeezed out, and soon it will be all. I don’t know that anyone really cares about that sort of thing. There will always be the next amusement. That said, it was an unusually pleasant day at the stroll. Few visitors compared to the throngs in the streets, but of good quality, and often actually interested in the work they were seeing. Marco came, but didn’t mention the work. His commenting on my work has never been part of our relationship, but only the other way around. He brought a girlfriend whom I’d insisted I’d met, but I realized as they were leaving it was the one before.

Mountain Xpress gets a new theater reviewer. Not only does he get print inches, but he’s not very good at it. One throws up ones hands in wonderment.

I look back on this and see I’ve complained more than I feel distress. All is well enough; some things are quite well.

Dark morning. Four hours before I have to be on Roberts Street. I rejoice.

It must be mentioned that one of the irises I planted in front of the Phil Mechanic is in spectacular, evening-blue bloom. I hope everyone passing saw it and marked it in their hearts.