December 15, 2015

Almost afraid to look at the Carolina Curtain Call’s review of All Is Calm, but it is a good one, and probably what the audience in general feels. Relief. I feared “Who was that bass sounding like an injured narwhal?”

Went to the café to see Tom, but he was so merrily engaged with Wind and, I suppose, their script, that I didn’t disturb him, sat outside in the cool sun with my hot chocolate.

Reading Orieux’s biography of Voltaire. There was a familiarity on those pages which I at last realized had to do with my wanting in high school exactly the life the Voltaire wanted: to be known for wit and sophistication, to write wittily and stingingly, to cause a kind of stir when I walked into the room. I suppose we both got that to the degree we actually wanted it. I suppose we both thought our native talents lay in that direction, though I was either wrong or abandoned the path quickly amid the forests of Hiram.

Blazing bright day. Even my flannel shirt is too much if I stand in the sun.