January 13, 2019

Mostly looking forward to the beginning of the semester tomorrow.

Thirty years ago I was in the midst of my affair with Jo-Jo. Tom was the center of my life. God, how I loved him. Spent New Years in New Orleans, where we hired Rick. Zimmer/Bees Productions cancelled my production at Lincoln Center because I refused to do the (idiotic) revisions they wanted. I was about to found Pisgah Players. Twenty-two years ago I wrote in my journal from my chill office in the “Downtown School of the Arts” on College Street, whose life was as short as its inception was adventurous. Twenty years ago I was closing –dramatically–on 62 Lakeshore. I was determined to write a string quartet. Ten years ago W.D. Snodgrass died. I was beginning rehearsals for Titus Andronicus. Adam brought me projects we could do together at HART. I record in my journal that I’m nearly finished with The Falls of the Wyona, first draft. Everything took too long. Nothing ended up the way one hoped at the outset. Yet, one grinds on. The night is very quiet.