October 13, 2019

Church, then an afternoon at the Magnetic. The play was a ghost story, by Katie’s sister, well written and well produced. It deserved a larger audience. I think Katie is going to give me the kiss-off at our lunch on Tuesday, which is odd, because I give her the best plays, but not odd, because it is not necessarily the case that anyone cares which plays are best.

A bluejay landed on a tall canna stalk. The stalk bent under his weight, all the way to the ground. The bluejay took flight, waited for the stalk to right itself, landed again, rode the flower down to the ground again. He did this as long as I cared to watch.