January 25, 2019

Red Hen sends me a draft of the cover of The Falls of the Wyona. It’s pretty. Very green. I was expecting something not quite so on-the-nose. The book is about boys holding hands in the forest, and the cover features boys holding hands in the forest. But, I’m sure they know their business.  If someone wants a book about boys holding hands in the forest, they will buy this. Actually, I am just so happy to be part of a process, any process, moving forward.

Urgent digestive issues send me to the bathroom after class. While seated, I was seized by muscle cramps, which grew into side and chest spasms so tight I could barely breathe. It’s agonizing. I can neither move nor stay still. I’m crying out, but there is no one else in the room. Cannot move. I’m a pretzel of quivering agony, unable to clean myself, unable to breathe or stand or move my arms. Finally, in terrific pain, I do manage to get myself together and out of the room, sucking down water at the fountain. This morning I go to leave a prescription at the drug store, and a cough in the car convulses me again at the same muscle in the stomach. I stagger into the store, seize a Gatorade and down it, walking through the aisles, gripping my stomach and groaning. When I get to the checkout I hand the lady the empty Gatorade and she says, “Do you want me just to thrown this away?” I come in later to pick the pills up, and the clerk says, “Are you feeling better?”

 My students, finally, are cowards. They must have learned this somewhere. Their entire support system encourages them in it, makes them think that cowardice is a kind of right.. I don’t think I can overcome it. Finally it is time to back away.