May 12, 2014

Indisposition wound its gradual way into me. Yesterday at church I was very uncomfortable, and outright had to leave during the Communion music. The proximate cause was the great fistful of doughy bread I was given at Communion, but it had been a long time coming already, and I made it to the rest room in time to vomit energetically. I wondered if I could be heard out front. I am a vocal vomiter. Got home and slept the sleep of exhaustion, not totally restored by Cantaria rehearsal, and in bed again before 10. Woke with what is clearly, now, phlebitis. I believe I caught it in time, but however rapid the recovery, this will be a day given over to lounging, hot soaking, sleeping, which is not what I had prepared for.

Finished the writing of the book on the morning of May 11. Will finish the first go-over revision today. I need a new title: Lexington Tract, Emerald Moonlight Prussian Blue lead the candidates right now. Publish This Fast, Motherfucker is my secret favorite.

Phone calls from everybody wanting me to give them money. I look at Caller ID and don’t answer, for the most part. If I were going to return good to the place which did me the most good, ever bountifully and surprisingly generous, it would be Syracuse, though I tell myself they have the big spending basketball fans and don’t need my bachelor's mite.