March 2, 2014
Did my signing at the Ruminate table yesterday morning. It was fun, and some people bought the magazine when I asked them to. Liked all the Ruminate people, who respected me more than I had earned. Sat with a tall good looking guy who teaches Forgiveness at Gonzaga. You can major in Forgiveness Studies there, apparently. Went into a far corner of the bookfair and ran into Chris Tanseer, which made me happy. He smelled wonderful, aside from the progress he has made as a writer. One man cried my name and said he had read A Childhood in the Milky Way. That meant I had to buy a book from his table. The book was by a short stocky little guy who shouted his poems from a chair, slam-style. Everybody was pleased with themselves. Something about the weekend made me sad, so though I went on line to buy a ticket to my waitress’ play, I couldn’t pull myself off the bed to go. Instead, made inroads in the minibar and fell asleep with the TV on. Woke to a dream in which I went back to Hiram, and was given a kind of nice shed to live in, but was trying frantically to find a phone that worked because I’d left England on the wrong day, and had to get back and retrieve my car. Freddy Dolittle was raking the grass, having taken a job as a groundskeeper there. He said, “Are we still friends?” Then he asked if he should consider Ecology as his new major. Phone conversation with L, where things are so dramatically catastrophic that I felt ashamed for feeling blue here over invisible things. Jonathan is getting married (not one of the catastrophes) in the wilds of Thailand. I do not think I’ll be able to go, so dependent am I on certain Western conveniences, like sit-down toilets, but I will contemplate it.
Seattle broke my writing drought with a vengeance. It has poured out of me.
Crying of gulls in the darkness outside my window.
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