May 7, 2023
Read articles in NYRB about the extinction of humankind. The disappointments of my own life are strangely comforted by that concept. I’m think of the paradise that would assert itself if we were gone. I want to say, “but who would appreciate it?,” forgetting that the animals too have souls and like what is beautiful to them.
Thinking about Thursday night. I have sung in choruses since the 7th grade and no one has ever once bellowed at a director for directing badly in the middle of a rehearsal. Ought it to have been done? Ought I simply to have walked away? Ought I to do that now? Am I expected to leave the chorus? That would be no sorrow at this point. Am I meant to go on as if nothing had happened? That’s my plan now. That is almost always my plan . . .
Afternoon. Torrential rain began as I sat on the porch with a cold drink, even as I was thinking “I have to water these plants.”
Evening: Lightning. Thunder. Maud is not running to me for comfort.
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