March 18, 2015

Deep in the time of rage. It cannot be helped from this side, only burned to ashes.

Planted ferns and hellebore, replanted ferns that I had ill-advisedly planted in pots last summer.  Much digging and hauling, after a quite rigorous workout in the dark of the morning. Wanted to have sex with the beautiful swimmer in the pool beside me. Stretching all day to insure I don’t seize up during the show.
   
The Citizen-Times review of Amadeus was occasionally insightful, occasionally not.

Thinking, inexplicably, of the field of low grass beside my grandmother’s house in Brownsville. It was the tiniest secret refuge.

Made cherry cookies. Cut my thumb.

Asked for a large personal loan, I say yes immediately, then spend too much time thinking of ways in which the askers have taken on too much, have been too daring, could have cut back and provided. Luckily all this came after “yes” and will never need to be expressed. I had paid all my bills, so resources were low, and I had to do a bit of scrounging.

RK seems very excited about The Mermaid. I told him to cancel it (he said they were having the devil’s time casting it) but he said everyone likes it and they really want to do it. So, Palm Sunday in Carrboro.