December 19, 2017

Woke unusually close to a feeling of physical well-being. I must have slept quite well. Last night when I set the cats’ food out, Maud ate greedily. I expected her to throw it up, but she did not. Great joy. I want her hungry and greedy again. I prayed for her recovery. A prayer answered, even for a day, is more shocking than almost anything.

Finished the first draft of my space play. I revise as I go, so a second complete draft is unlikely.

Lunch with Q. He confirmed my expectations by saying that TBC at Magnetic is awful. His word, “awful.” He said “Maybe every tenth joke landed.” I last saw it years ago, when every third joke landed. He said that I have a remarkable talent for keeping out of my own way as a writer, by which he indicated my lack of the need to tell my own story. He is right. Many of my characters are a bit of me, none very much. The part he’s playing in Night Music comes closest, but he plans the steps ahead of him, and I almost never do.

Huge naps with lovely, lighthearted dreams.