May 11, 2017

S and his sister drop by to see the garden on their way home. The garden is beautiful for them. He is beautiful and she is not. It must be hard for a girl to have a brother more beautiful than she. I tried to pay her extra attention.

Working on two pieces of fiction, both of them lengthy.

Handsome L chatters to me about his plans for the future. I nod and try to be encouraging. He says, “I’m talking your ear off. I’m sorry, but I’m fascinated by you–“ all he gets out before he’s due back on stage.  And I by him.

We’re using face mics, which are unnecessary, and which I hate.

Roses like clouds of fire above the long grass. Roses and poetry are nothing alike. Roses are, in comparison, effortless.