February 10, 2017

Odd days behind me, uncharacteristic, but rich in chores being done at long last, in new activities attempted. I seem to have emerged from a physical valley of the shadow as well, feeling better the last two mornings than for a long time passed. The second big famine of iron in the blood seems to have been lived through. Bought my secretary a scarf at Nordstrum’s, to spite Trump. After spending days working on a play that was not working, lit on the idea–I think Alex suggested it inadvertently– to write about the assassination of McKinley. He should have loomed bigger than he did in my youth, being from nearby Canton.