December 17, 2023

S’s birthday party last night in West Asheville. Crowded, convivial– the rest of Virginia Ave, though, dark and empty, a Christmas haunting. After that to the Cathedral to hear the newly re-named group, A, sing the most purely I have heard outside of Cambridge. Tone like a shimmer of silver. 

Bitter rain.

Forlorn photographs of the Magnetic, now empty of all its equipment and theatrics. 

Gibbons’ “This Is the Record of John,” which I remember from the Saviour in Syracuse as beyond magical. Looked up the Saviour on the Internet: now a “chapel,” whatever that means, and whose interior has been modernized into unrecognizability, from the angles provided.