May 24, 2018

I’m writing so hard on my novel that I forget to record here, and feel that little bits of my life flee away unmarked.

Excellent morning sessions of writing at High 5.

Took out my machete and hacked down all the new bamboo stalks, the ones still hackable, growing on the other side of the fence, against the apartments’ parking lot. Whether that strip of land is mine or not, I figured nobody would care. Anyway, I think, the world at that hour being marvelously empty, my deeds went unmarked.

Lunch with Sam. He’ll be staying here between his return from Oregon and his moving into his apartment. I asked him what he would wish if Ganesh appeared and offered him anything, and his response was both admirably and sadly modest. Practical, even. I hope he gets his wish.

Preparing bit by bit for the Memorial Day picnic. I wish it weren’t happening, but I think I’ll be glad it did. I am not the one to have responsibility for big events.

I argue with the frogs that I am their loving god and they needn’t bother leaping to safety when I appear.

Deadheaded today. The garden is lovely, but cries for a good weeding. Good stand of milkweed. Good stands of joe-pye.

Wrote in my novel about a professor going to his office and finding “Penis Head” written over his name on his schedule sheet. This, of course, is a reference to the Boy, one of whose nicknames is exactly that. I go to my office this morning and find scrawled on my schedule, “Your a shit bitch, doctor.” The faulty grammar makes it difficult to believe it was one of my students. Also, some context would be useful. Was my shit bitchery in this case intentional or inadvertent? If the latter, perhaps it can be corrected.