John

 

October 27, 2020

John Cram is dead. I wonder who else remembers when he and I were the Asheville Power Couple? Few people I have known directly have done so much good. I should have been more observant about our friendship. I should. . . I should. . . . 

Long, successful session by the river in Woodfin, writing, strolling, writing again. Maybe the riverside will be my office as long as the weather allows. 

Ste’s book arrives, huge rambling, often incomprehensible, but a gift of the new age, which allows you to make a book whenever you want to, and not wait for curation by minds that may not understand.

Looked up iron deficiency, and while I don’t have all the symptoms, I have several: exhaustion, the inability to take a really nourishing breath, dry skin. I’d even suspect my craving for radishes is related to the warning about “strange cravings.” I do not have constant headaches or anxiety. This is scarcely news. . . why do I not commit to an increased and constant regime of iron pills? Because it makes my stool weird. My pre-New Year’s resolution is to get past that. 

The final, final proof of OBN is in email. I fear to look.

Monteverdi on CD. Opera at its peak the very first moment of its life.