August 28, 2021

Supper last night at the Smoky Park Supper Club (which I joined and am now a member of) with Ed and Rosemary, a celebration of Ed’s and my birthdays, three days apart. It was a lovely evening. They are people of wide and engaging interests and we had much to talk about. Plus, there’s common history in Ohio going back in our families before our births. A waitress who served us for years at Avenue M recognized me and informed me she’s going to graduate school in fiction writing at Spaulding. Another server asked is I was who I am and I said I was, and she said she’d been in my class twenty years ago. What was gratifying was the look of genuine astonishment on her face (what I could see above the mask) when she said, “You haven’t changed one bit!”  I certainly feel changed, but not to look it so much is a blessing. 

Rose early and set out by car, not knowing I was going to the Arboretum until I got there. Overcrowding is a real issue everywhere in Asheville, now, even at the edges of the Great Wood. But I managed a hike that afforded at least intervals of solitude. Beautiful pale green grove of birch. Roadsides like a Persian carpet. Two sweaty lesbians gave me their map. 

Dedicating several days to the celebration of my birthday--

Frustration

 

August 27, 2021

On the verge of weeping at the end of last night’s rehearsal. Frustration, spikes of fury. We work relentlessly on pieces not worth the time. I have no sympathy with our repertoire. I have no interest in singing in a show choir or a pop ensemble. I have no interest in singing pop music– nor should we corporately, as it isn’t suited to our sound. We have sounded beautiful in the past, but never on “A Disney Medley” or jazzy arrangements of Billy Joel. Perhaps the most irritating 90 minutes since I got home from Dublin. I spoke to no one on my way to the car. We rehearsed outside in intermittent rain. Retirement and the pandemic have made me too used to getting my own way for seamless socialization. Why do I linger? Habit? Because I helped found the group and do not want to leave my child, whatever disappointment he’s become? Perhaps I fear becoming the total hermit my inclinations sort of suggest.

 

August 26, 2021

A dog howls piteously somewhere in the neighborhood, and has been doing so for an hour. 

So wet for so long that everything looks a little sodden and mildewy. My big sunflower has turned flat black, I suppose with rot.

Food and drinks at the Red Stag after choir last night. Ended in despairing gossip about church politics. I’m periodically reminded about how oblivious I am to actual malice, even (or especially) when aimed toward myself. Someone usually needs to show me before I see it. This makes for a calmer life, but also raises the likelihood of ambush.

Coffee with KJ. We get along well, follow each other’s references and tone. I hadn’t understood what a steep road recent times have given her. The theater is deeper in debt than I imagined. I thought I could help out, but the best I could do would barely make a dent. Thought and prayers, as they say. The whole world jumbles around in a box, and one must wait until it settles to explore what exactly to do.

 

August 25, 2021

Contemplating the fact that reserving time to market my works, to choose outlets and compose the fawning letters, fills me with exhaustion and unease, whereas writing or revising is a joy from the moment I sit down to the moment I rise up. One with less experience might suppose he was meant to write and not to market, but the literal decades in which that’s exactly what happened turned out to be– fallow, to put it in the best light. Wasted, to put it in the worst.

 August 24, 2021

Something convinced me that the basement had flooded. It took me two days of anxiety to open the door and see that it was not. While it was open, I fiddled with the basement door, which I have been barricading shut with a cast iron bull for seven years. Turns out all I had to do was turn a little knob and the latch appeared and the door worked just as it ought. I do sometimes amaze myself. 

Revising Jason. It was pretty good already–just filling in some blanks, chopping away some beloved verbiage. Looked at many presses, 2/3 of them with notices saying, “Not open to submissions at this time.” 

Anniversary

 

August 23, 2021

Anniversary of my art, of my expressive soul: Evening of August 23, 1966, in my room, at my lost desk, writing my first poem. Could have been last night.

Drinks with SS. We both remarked on how long it has been since we had a conversation involving Spenser and Ariosto, and how unlikely it would be ever to have that with anybody else. Troubles of the State and the Theater thoroughly discussed. Drank two sangrias, which added to the drinks at Daniel’s wedding is the whole of my alcohol consumption for the month. Most striking effect is the saving of money no longer spent at the liquor store. 

 

August 22, 2021

My life has changed insofar as every odd sound from the backyard sends me downstairs to see if a bear is breaking in. In my bed at night I’m listening all the while, though so far significant visitations (those which caused damage) were diurnal.

Tallis as today’s anthem. 

My garden is a Monet painting, all smeared with colors and thick with visual excess. God saw a deficiency of blue and sent the morning glories to redress it. 

Watching Bernstein’s “Ode to Freedom” from Berlin on You Tube, I heard myself saying to myself, “You’re an angry little man.” And so I am, petty and grievance-nursing in a world of immensities.

 

August 21, 2021

Z comes for a tutorial on investing. He already knew more than I did when I began. Investing is practically the only thing in my life where I can say I fared better than I probably deserved to. Composing material for the Stewardship Campaign. Former materials are so turgid I wonder what acrobatics people had to go through finally to get to their checkbooks

 

August 20, 2021

Heavy rain continuing at intervals. Woke this morning to a news report from the local station saying today’s forecast is “mostly sunny with a chance of showers late in the afternoon.” It was thunderstorming at that very moment. Woke from a dream in which I was making a high-budget movie staring Geena Davis as an astronaut who, after her first manned mission to Jupiter, drove her spaceship into the sun. The movie was meant to explain how this came to happen. Several scenes at base camp on Mars were “in the can” before I woke. Dream life is the life of a whole other mind than that which governs the day. 

On campus to get my Retirees One Card. The contempt the faculty is held in is evidenced by the hundreds of parking spaces reserved for the possible use of administration, almost all empty when I drove through, almost all empty when the faculty is driving around in the morning frantically looking for a place to park. 

 

August 19, 2021

Jack and I meet to discover if we can figure out a Stewardship program for the church. One recognizes with horror just how badly written most church documents are, how easily it would be to bring them up to style. Some of the bad writing is directly toward the end of thwarting too much clarity.

Lunch at Moe’s barbecue, masked, as per yesterdays’s county-wide mandate. Sat beside a table of Conservatives discussing how idiotic the masks are and what a fool Biden is, the whole spectrum of expected attitudes and opinions. I thought about sitting down in their midst, just for the sake of the upheaval, but in the end I didn’t have the energy. 

North Carolina’s first recorded bear-related fatality in SM National Park. 

Praetorius on Pandora. 

 

August 18, 2021

Parliament of turkeys meeting in my garden when I awoke. I lay down in the afternoon, and they clustered under my bedroom windows, uttering the softest, gentlest, most comforting array of coos and gurgles. One of nature’s loveliest and most unexpected sounds.

My ten foot tall Mexican sunflowers blew over in the storm. Will check to see if they can be propped or must be removed. Many roads closed by flooding last night, including the River District and most of Biltmore. 

Meeting for the group of us going to Israel with the bishop, most of the time taken up in wondering of Covid will allow the journey. Grape leaves were served, reminding me how much I like them. 

Binge watching alternately Teen Wolf and Chicago Med until 2 in the morning. My life cannot be explained. 

Rolling Thunder

 

August 17, 2021

Rolling thunder. Monumental rain. If I lived lower down the mountain perhaps I’d use the word “catastrophic.” The news is difficult to watch, earthquake in Haiti, fire and drought in the west, our twenty years of labor in Afghanistan gone in an instant. I think of the Taliban as uniquely horrible, but resistence to them in their own country seems not to arise. There’s a disconnect somewhere. One would imagine women, at least, dreading their return. They claim this time to be moderate.

David’s birthday. 

Heated Vestry last night. People who believe that having a feeling justifies the feeling seem to cluster around Episcopalianism. One corner is always shouting “the church is fragmented and people are hurt,” and though that is not untrue, the full truth is that the church is fragmented because they are fractious and they are hurt because they nurse ancient grievances which were unjustified in the first place. One tries to keep one’s mouth shut, but the temptation is dire. I did level that accusation last night, in a very disguised way, and my target responded in anger, but his zoom feed was on mute, so what we saw was an agitated man mouthing wildly. The effect was humorous. It’s cheap to consider that a triumph, but I do. 

Visit to the doctor. Took blood, and something being wrong either with my veins or the technician, they stabbed multiple times.  Oddly vertiginous all day (did not mention this to the doctor), the room spinning if I lie down or bend over too fast. One of the accompaniments of the Golden Years, no doubt. 

I mentioned the storm at opening; it’s majestic enough to be mentioned again at the end. 

 

August 16, 2021

The Taliban take over Afghanistan even before the last of us leaves. Twenty years of effort and bloodshed come, as far as I can tell, to nothing. 

Days of heat and hard rain. My garden is glorious. Correcting and editing In the Country of the Young. Revision of the book mostly rewriting “was” and “is” phrases, inserting contractions, trying to parry the curse of typos laid upon me. 

Maud is losing weight. I find her on the dresser, face toward the wall. Maybe it means nothing. But I hold her and I pray that pathetic prayer: oh, please, please, not my little friend. Let her outlive me. I can’t stand it. Please please please. Silly among the prayers of this disastrous world, I know. But it is my prayer. It’s the burden given to me. I was not exaggerating to say that I cannot bear it. I know, almost every other tragedy you can name is worse than this. I do not deny it. I do not contradict. I just stand with my arms around my cat, sobbing, hopeless. It cannot be helped. 

Longing for photos of my parents and their families when they were kids. 

I lose day after day not writing here. Maybe nothing happened. 

 

August 13, 2021

Still on my Monteverdi kick. 

Anxiety about vaccination credentials led me to the County Health Department, where my suspicion that the first emailed certificate from them would not suffice for things like international travel was confirmed, and where they issued me the Official Form complete with scan-able data and signatures and dates and times. Incredible how that had been weighing on my mind, and how relieved I was to have it resolved. I said to one of the workers in the building, “Can I get a booster maybe?” and she flustered about like a wet hen, “Do we have those? I don’t think we have those! If we have those nobody told me. . .” I finally told her I was joking. One doesn’t appreciate how much even official bureaucracy is playing the pandemic by ear.

Ended the evening with out now bi-weekly zoom chat. For the last ten minutes or so I watched everybody in the zoom screens looking down at their phones and doing something else, so I quietly signed off. 

 

August 12, 2021

Early at the Y, good weights set. Returning, encountered a large family of turkeys in the yard. They started at the driveway and worked their way around the entire area, picking at seeds and uttering their soft little moaning sounds. 

Opened an Instagram account for myself. Not yet sure how it works. 

Very sparse cathedral rehearsal last night (I like when it’s sparse; then I can sing at nearly full voice) followed by, for me, club soda at the bar. Much talk of church politics, which are far more bitter than I am able to observe on my own. I don’t always notice when people are being nasty, nor, if I do, always weave the bits of nastiness together into a recognizable malign character. Milly was evidently a harridan of the first magnitude, and continues to scandalize our name. People fear we will not be able to get a decent Dean because we are known far and wide “to be a mess.” The whole Episcopal web apparently thrills at the touch of our depravity. Two malicious women and the lies they told, and got others to tell of their behalf, appear to be the root of it. You wouldn’t credit that so few could do so much harm, except that you recall two vicious girls started the Salem Witch hysteria. I’ve known men who were brutal apes, but a woman must lead you into the deep Tartarus of covert malice. Most men have, somewhere, a sense of honor. Some women do not. Talk then of Governor Cuomo. 

 

August 10, 2021

Finished last night with a Gossip Girl bings lasting until 2 in the morning. Writing fiercely on In the Country of the Young.

Former Glory

 

August 9, 2021

Rose wanting this day to be other than the last several, so I began by going to the Y, where masks abound again. Did a good weights routine, and then joined the low-impact aerobics. My guess it’s five years since I did any kind of aerobics. My breath held; I was not breathless even once, and but for twinges in my knee when twisting was involved, I was back to my former glory. 

 

August 8, 2021

Monteverdi on Pandora. 

Tea-totaling does in fact, if nothing else, improve one’s dream life. My dreams are epic, fantastic, seemingly never-ending, not always (but mostly) happy. I’ve always been impressed by the fully realized nature of dreams, not roughed-in or abstract, but complete in every detail.  In one last night I decided to inspect a desk that some item sat upon. It was richly carved clear to the fantastic clawed feet: something I never saw nor ever think about in any detail in daily life. The last waking, just at first cobalt light, must have been something to do with the university, for my first conscious thoughts were about my never having received a rocking chair or a bowl or even a certificate at my retirement–as I suppose others to have done. It was during the pit of the Pandemic –yes– but someone might have taken the trouble. Also have received no solicitation for contributions from the institution-- one oversight meant, perhaps, to cancel the other. 

During the Ordination yesterday a voice came into my head. It said, “Do you realize you almost never think of anything but yourself?” This came at the exact second when the bishop was admonishing us to “hold Will in our thoughts and prayers” and I wasn’t doing so, but rather–yes– thinking about myself. Calm came instantly to my heart, so somewhere inside I must have been agitated about being so self-involved. Will seek to be mindful of this. 

The bear invasion has odd effects. I start at every unfamiliar sound, running to check if an animal is breaking in somewhere. I listen to the silence around the house when I lie down to sleep, wondering what will break the silence. I think with dread of the years when I left the sliding door open all summer. Some grace led Ginsbear to make her attempt when I was home and could stop it. 

Ordination

 

August 7, 2021

Sang for Will’s ordination into the priesthood at the Cathedral. Lovely in every aspect. Will’s friend from college preached a hole in the wall. Authority in one so young always impresses. Will was an toddler when I met him.. When we were in Rome together I asked him if he were comfortable with me and he said, “I’ve known you all my life.” 

The perfect bodies of the Olympic divers. . .

The perfect poise of the Kenyan who won the marathon. . . 

The solar smiles of the American women who won the last relay. . . 

 

August 6, 2021

Perfection of the garden. All is as I envisioned, except richer, because of things I had forgotten reseeding or reasserting. And the cannas are not yet even in bloom.

 

August 5, 2021

Paranoia about Covid led to AGMC’s rehearsing on the church lawn. At first I was infuriated by all the fussing and bothering, hauling benches and arranging things just so (If you’re that freaked out, just cancel) but in the end it turned our rather sweetly. We had an audience, who will probably remember us as a lovely accident of their travels through the South. Most of our music at this point is not what I want to sing. I say “at this point” knowing that the point will likely spread into a vast and enduring future.

 

August 4, 2021

No idea what happened to yesterday. I drove to Weaverville and bought a Whopper, without any understanding of my own motivations. 

Watched the Olympics. Tried to forget that I can’t walk to my car without having some occasion to holler “Ow!”

Invasion

 

August 2, 2021

Facebook account weirdly sabotaged. Discovered that the email attached to the account was not  mine. New account. Hate to lose all that history.

Got the cars inspected. The same guy did them both and didn’t recognize me from one encounter to another, exactly ten minutes apart. 

Upstairs writing when I heard an odd sound. I guessed what it must be before I saw it. When I reached the top of the stairs, I realized a bear was in my house, calmly walking from the kitchen into the dining room. She had torn her way through the screen on the sliding door with the smallest sound possible. She had taken a bite of Maud’s food, and was strolling farther in. The floor was wet from her splashing in the pond. The deepest sensation was incongruity, that big black head against the polished wooden floor–something I had never expected to see. The thoughts in my head were: what if she does not turn and run when I scream at her? What if she can’t remember how to get out and goes rampaging through the house? What if she charges up the stairs and corners me? But she made a swift (almost magical) escape after I bellowed at her. By the time I got to the door only the fleeing form of one of her cubs could be seen. I was shaken, but maybe less than could be expected. I think she was far less dangerous– and the fear of her far less lingering–than if she had been a human thief who got in the same way. I built a wall against the eastern basement window (which she had also torn out again) and splashed it with ammonia. I closed and locked the garden door. I can keep the house cool with fans. I thought of her often through the afternoon, imaging how difficult it must be for her to get a living for herself and two babies. I don’t know how she manages. I also wondered what she thought in those seconds. Did she know she was inside somebody’s house? Did she know it was MY house and she might be able to get away with it? Mischief? Curiosity? Hunger? Only now is Maud making an appearance from wherever a cat hides when there’s a bear in the house.

Opossum

 

August 1, 2021

Resigned myself, finally happily, to watching the Olympics until I fall asleep on the couch. Don’t know why I love the Olympics and never watch a single athletic event through the rest of the year. Scratching at the sliding doors got me briefly up off the sofa. An opossum had climbed to the top of the doorframe–somehow-- and was trying to get it. Maybe he saw the cat’s bowl. 

Wedding

 

July 31, 2021

Gray, steaming day, clouds low, heat high. Spent two days in Dahlonega at D and M’s wedding.  I think that part of the world sent Marjorie Taylor Greene to Washington. Wedding-wise, everything went excellently well. L and J rented a huge house and nearly 40 people picnicked at a “rehearsal dinner” (I don’t know whether there actually was a rehearsal) Thursday night. I reached my communications capacity fairly early, and had to sit out on the third terrace in the dark to recharge my social battery. Even then, M’s grandmother was telling me how she was driven to the Hyannis compound on a regular basis to do Ethel Kennedy’s hair. All the toast speeches at the reception were clever and kind and not cringe-inducing. D and D’s friends are a loyal and affectionate band of young men who remain close these many years after college, and seem to have integrated their women friends into the clan on an equal and hearty basis. It was lovely to watch them dance once all the uncles and grandparents had left the room. North Georgia is a scaled-down version of Western NC, the mountains smaller, the valleys narrower, the rivers rocky, thin. and scrappy. We hiked around a reservoir teeming with enormous turtles. 

M's other grandfather asked if I were retired. I said yes. He said, "You look like you were a banker."

His mother calls Daniel “Senator Daniel.” His appearance, his affect, what he reveals and what he conceals, all seem to make that kind of destiny inevitable. 

Received a royalty check from Red Hen. Gratifying! I suspected none had sold that I hadn’t bought myself. . . .