November 16, 2019

Theater last night with Jack. We saw Hnath’s A Doll’s House, part 2. Skillfully acted. Jack thought the set distractingly bare. Unfortunately, Nora’s perspective couldn’t be made (or the playwright didn’t want to make it) anything other than self-serving. Drinks at Claddagh afterwards. I had to tell the server what the Claddagh is.

The November moon has been following me, lighting my nights and mornings with extraordinary graciousness.

Invited to the Magnetic for the reading of a play by a former student. She provided champagne with raspberries in it. The play was carefully wrought and exhibited planning and intelligent application at every turn. It was, nevertheless, inert, with all the smooth and confident vices of over-planning. The author is a therapist and had invited mostly her therapist friends, who praised the play in ways that would seem good–or at least correct–only to a therapist. I decided to say nothing and to sneak out, affecting a coughing fit.