August 22, 2014

Hot upstairs before dawn. I’m too idle to go turn the fan on. First week of class survived. Not just survived, but enjoyed, mostly for the cheerful and forward quality of my students. One is going with us to Pericles tonight. The kids seem friendlier than they have in recent times.

Meeting with SS about to renascent Magnetic Theater. Talking with him shames me concerning all those times when I had the idea to “start a theater” without really considering how much labor it is. He has considered that, and even hearing about it is a little exhausting. I HAVE run a theater on next to nothing, but it was a vagabond and now-and-then operation. I’ve wasted the world’s time when I have done anything but create. Somehow I continue to hide that truth from myself. He seems ready to do Washington Place in a coming season. I’m glad. That play means a particular thing to me. It, along with a couple of others, represents a work I believe can be popular and yet also satisfied me creatively, upholding my conviction that those things need not be at odds.. It was also written in four days.

I thought I had ordered four roses but apparently I had ordered eight. They sat on  my porch in their shipping boxes until I could take them out last night after school, and get them–suffering many a mosquito bite–into the ground. Watering as night fell. I think that’s enough roses for a while.