December 15, 2017

Nap dream: I’m at a phone booth set in the middle of a Van Gogh meadow. I’m talking to MH, and she’s counseling me on relationships–with people I do not seem to know in waking life. She said, “People have a tendency, when they’re talking to you, to tell you their aspirations rather than the truths of their lives. This leaves you with an elevated impression of everyone you know.” Made sense in the dream and makes a kind of sense now.

Coffee with J at High Five, where we, among other topics, inevitably rehash the Magnetic debacle. We both have come to the conclusion that secrecy–people nursing bad feelings rather than exposing and working them out– lies at the bottom of a situation otherwise pretty much irrational. I thought of Blake’s “The Poison Tree.” They held their resentment in secret. They laid traps before S’s feet, and were glad when he fell in. We both confessed to not hearing gossip and therefore being taken by surprise by it.  Worked on my space play. 

Good morning in the studio– finished one big painting, revised and finished another, worked on a few small pieces, turned a postcard Bekka sent me into a “work.” I have no idea why I’m good at painting, even as good as I am. There was no clue in early life. 

Dark toward evening, Slept mightily in the middle of the day. Must begin now to hydrate to make sure my voice is fit for rehearsal tonight.