March 7, 2015

Nimrud is bulldozed under.

From 5 to 10:30 last night got us not quite through Act I. I always assume a little planning, a little less of the catastrophic mentality on the part of theater techies,  would reduce the agony of Tech, but perhaps people would be disappointed if Tech weren’t hell. Actually pleased to be among my colleagues, even for that stretch of time, but what mostly happens is that we stand around, and standing around annihilates my legs. Had to sleep backwards last night, with my feet on the pillow, to bring the swelling down. Twice as long today, the halting and waiting to begin at noon. I think back to when this would have drawn howls of rage from me; now it is but a sigh. Good sleep after, though, until gray dawn was breaking.

Wrote to N. They say she is dying, and I want her to know I will think of her long after she does. She and Tom are my oldest friends in Asheville. We did aerobics at the Spa-that-was, then sat gossiping in the whirlpool the first weeks I was in town. Learned of All Souls from her years before I went there. If I had inclined that way, I think we might have married.
   
Speaking of Tom, he showed me a Country song he’d written and had performed by Chris Rosser, and it was good. Very good. Finally I could say to him, “Yes, yes, this is achieved.”