December 28, 2015

Got out of my car in the Racquet Club parking lot in the dark before morning. Was struck by the voices of the frogs, the cross-backed hylas, in the ponds and ditches thereabout. My heart leapt, though it is a false spring, and perhaps those voices will go silent for a while before the real one comes.

We finished off All Is Calm on Sunday, and not particularly on a high note. We may not have finished well, but we finished, and that is enough. The experience was a net loss for me, in ratio of energy expended to value returned, though I know that our audiences thought quite otherwise–that they were moved and touched–and that is the important thing. Big lunch at a Mexican place afterward. I maneuvered so I could sit by C, and take in his eyes and voice.

Woke to myself screaming in pain as I rolled onto my inflamed shoulder wrong this morning. If I were looking for a title for this year, “The Year of Pain” might be a candidate, except my guess is that here will be tougher contenders on down the line.

I feel weight coming off me. I do not today have to hurry to do anything. Sat in the High 5 and wrote.