June 14, 2018

Interesting day. Woke disturbed and uncomfortable, something just below the level of consciousness–but above the level of dreams–bothering me in the night. Got Ancient-Marinered by Mr. Crutchfield at the High 5, who reminded me of a show I did long ago, and who spoke to me of the world of spirits in a way which I knew immediately to be truthful and efficacious. Sometimes the healers come. Sometimes they find you behind your iced chai. When I left him I felt like a clear stream.

Will picks up the picnic table after four weeks. We were three or four days into the period when I couldn’t stand it anymore, and it had to be gone under whatever circumstances. Remembered my father like that, times when his patience came to an end without warning and without effort on his part to allow us to understand. Dead space on my lawn about the size of a grave.

Said “no” to The Field at HART, which was saying “no” to the man of my dreams. Were I the man of his dreams, it would be different. The world gradually draws away from you the things you aren’t meant to reach.

Glennis was the only person who ever called me a racist– an accusation so odd that it was more curious than hurtful. Perhaps it was to get me back for calling her a fraud. All this was so long ago. The clear stream I mentioned before is cleansing old declivities.

Bad throat is back. It’s possible I won’t be able to sing the Cantaria concert.

Bunny thinks I can’t see him when I’m out in the yard. I think this is very droll. Maybe freezing like that works on foxes and cats. I fight the temptation to try to pet him. I have petted wild rabbits, but I think because they were paralyzed with fear. I don’t want to put mine through that.

Circe is capable of staring at me steadily for a very long time. I wonder what she’s seeing that she hasn’t seen a thousand times before.