March 25, 2016

Good class presentations this morning, one on de Sade, one on the blue flowers of the Germans. The men sang the Good Friday service, which is probably very moving from the congregation. I always end up wearing the wrong shoes. Dug in the garden then, enlarging, weeding, planting poppy and black eyed Susan. Great and pleasant receipt of sleep. While digging, sank into rage about the idiot Humanities chairman and the non-appearing pond digger. Are those important issues? Only because they are needless and gratuitous, like hiccoughs or a muscle cramp. And I did not sink through the bottom, as I might have done. Weekend shot through by performances and rehearsals like a Swiss cheese. It is not the way to do Easter, but it does help others to do Easter, so one does not know where responsibilities lie. Blue day edging toward silver. Heard my wind chime as I was digging– very beautiful, almost unbelievably beautiful, a bell chiming from another world.

C writes that Alex K has died. Eleven hours ago he responded to a Facebook posting of my by writing, “Rock on, brother, rock on. Peace. Alex.” And the same to you now, old friend. Ave atque vale.