Omaha 2

May 23, 2015

Did take that nap, did retire finally before 9 Pm, and slept all the way to what I call morning, though the other slumberers in this house would evidently disagree. Robins sang all through the night, as they do under my streetlamp at home. My misgivings about this week were melted by the few hours after I arrived. Went to a gathering at the President’s house, where I met some of my fellows, all jolly and friendly and full of enthusiasm for past years together. I seemed to be the only freshman, but I felt sufficiently at home. I do not yet know the hierarchy, who are honored playwrights, who are featured playwrights, who are guests, who are actors, who are administrators, though the distinctions do not seem to mean much to anyone, so all is well. One of the– administrators I guess-- understood our car-less plight and took us shopping. I bought nothing but liquor. Must emphasize that last night was lovely, a river of dreams each one sweeter and stranger than the last, sleep as recreation rather than a strict necessity, as I think I made up for the previous night’s sleeplessness on the plane. I must feel comfortable. I must feel somewhat at home.

The campus is studded by the most bountiful herb-robert I’ve ever seen.

The bird you notice is the purple marten, friendly, fluttering near the ground, close, as though to take a good look at you, twittering its confiding twitter.