November 25, 2013

Dream: in order to pass Mrs. Smith’s 8th grade class, I had to turn in one more assignment that I had neglected for fifty years to do. I resented it. Miraculously, though, I remembered the questions, and sat down with a pad of yellow legal paper and began to write.

Cantaria not that far from being ready for our concert. I enjoyed rehearsal last night, except for the vicarious irritation of seeing our director irritated. The bright boy with his hand in the air in the 5th grade never quite grows up, and we have a couple of those. Steve’s face creases with patient agony. Love feeling the contra B’s coming out of me in the Chesnokov.

Email from Germany inquiring after Tristan Foisson. Blast from the past, and among the oddest of the pasts. Despite all that came after, he was the greatest celebrity ever to sit upon my two-sofas-back sofa.