July 10, 2016

A light snow of Maud’s shed hair dusts the corners of the house.

Trying to wrestle the garden back into order. The drought did almost as much damage as the mowers. Looking at the mowers’ devastation, I do not think it was all accidental. Too much evidence of mischief and pushing the limits to see if it is noted. I see these things because they are not foreign to me. The lotus went dry and floated up upon the waters in its basin, and almost died of drought floating in water. Caught it just in time.

Last night’s performance was not perfect, though good enough, I think. The chorus came in oddly late and off from time to time. Much resentment against D, our music director. He has been nothing but kind and helpful to me, so I don’t know how to stand in solidarity with my colleagues while still being true to my own experience.

Read DY’s one-act. It is very good. Professionally, promisingly good.

In Denver I began having a fantasy of going back–knowing what I know now– to my early childhood, and seeing if greater understanding of my parents could have made all our lives better. I was always fighting for my own life, and too often the opposition was them. Sometime I couldn’t see how they could possibly love me. Maybe if we tried again–. I wonder if I ever once tried to see things as they were seeing them?

Brilliant afternoon. Put on my shoes, get into the car, drive to the matinee. Matinees are unnatural.