November 10, 2018

Since I couldn’t speak and there was no point in trying to sing, I went to the studio and painted well, inspired by the blank walls occasioned by my show.  Began paintings in a quite new style. Frustrated that the masses arrayed for the Studio Stroll weren’t coming upstairs, I closed up and drove to Mars Hill to take photos of my show. The gallery was, of course, closed, and some sort of dance contest going on in the auditorium. One girl in a gaudy costume carried two gigantic trophies. Ate lunch at the hillbilly sub shop. A different world. She seemed very happy. Worked the last several hours on Poets in Their Youth, which is finally near completion.

A great wind blew open the glass door in the kitchen, and for a while, until I came downstairs and found it, there was a gaping hole into the stormy night. The cats gathered in the living room as far away as they could get. I explored the rooms to make sure nothing of the night had come in.