March 31, 2016

Rain, almost too gentle to wet all the ground at once. Purple fritillaria blooming in back. Grumpy morning failing to write at Edna’s. Lunch with SS, who has decided (with my joyous approval) to do Uranium 235 at the Magnetic. I’ll become known as “the history playwright” but at least I’ll become known as something. His loyalty to his playwrights is beautiful. I don’t see the same equality among us as he does, but----.  Day off blasted to pieces by errands and vague and unspecific malaise, which I may have eliminated by one of the world’s memorable and most unexpected bowel events. My body is changing in ways I’m trying to get used to, and which in some ways seem to be an improvement. One doesn’t expect that at this stage of the game.