August 31, 2018

Illicitly took the day off at the end of the first two weeks of class. My excuse is to have free days around my birthday, if anybody asks, which they have not. Went to High 5 to kick-start one or the other of the novels. Did manage to move Sam-sam along, all the while fighting urgent, copious, inexplicable, and repetitive diarrhea, which eventually put an end to the morning’s writing. All’s well. Sat beside a man and his Jack Russell, who were beautiful together.

Return to the Asheville Gay Men’s Chorus, nee Cantaria, after a summer off. Was in despair the first few moments– the same pop tunes which I hated before, the same turbulent and self-indulgent individualism on the part of the choristers, with our well-established personalities. But, my spirits turned a corner, realizing that I could lament and fade away or I could manage to have fun, if I really put my mind to it. So, we’ll have fun. C has dementia, and comes to rehearsal anyway. What do I think of that? What’s the line between patience and ruinous indulgence? Not my call, thank God. A beautiful, young, and giant baritone gives me something to look at. Amazing what difference that makes.

I said to Circe curled up on the kitchen chair, “I’ve taken care of you for fifteen years, and do you send me a birthday card?”

I said to Maud curled up on the bathroom counter, “I’ve taken care of you for fifteen years, and do you send me a birthday card?”

I said to the frogs on the pond, “I made a world for you, and do you send me a birthday card?”

No sufficient answer from any.

I do receive a letter from Grey, which before the end has me weeping silently in the café in relief and gratitude, for his testimony that I did some good at one time. “I think I’m going to miss your literature classes more than I realized. They were truly one of a kind. I truly feel that you, along with the Western canon  which you wielded, saved me from self-induced drowning.” He’s at the MFA program at Alabama, which is not living up to his expectations, but which seems exactly to mirror my remembrance of the MA at Syracuse. He remembers when I said, “A false argument shrinks the world; a true argument enlarges it.” I am glad now to be reminded of that. He says, “I hope you find your lone, annual devotee.” To be fair, sometimes there are more than one.

Agonizing leg cramps last night, still sore this morning. Hurled invective at God between gulps of Gatorade.