November 30, 2024

DJ prepared Thanksgiving dinner. We ate and watched football on TV, which I suppose is the accepted thing. Each time I’ve sat down to watch football, determined to understand what the attraction is, I come away thinking that, next to baseball, it’s the most boring activity in the world. 

Cold in the studio this AM, a premonition of things to come. I work for twenty minutes before I forget about the cold. 

T comes over yesterday morning, and we catch up to some degree. A, who seemed inert to be in his extreme youth, has developed an interest in music, the clarinet and the bass guitar in particular. He’s a junior and already considering conservatories. Their house was destroyed, and the struggle to find a place to live mirrors so many within the sound of a cannon shot from here. T is far more political than I, and filled with vehement hatred of the coming four years. No mention of our silence, which is well, I suppose. I often imagine that issues which bother me are nothing to the other side, and so need not be articulated. 

Eternal, if slightly mutating, coughing. 

Orgy of cookie baking yesterday. For church receptions, mostly.

Phoebe ranging around the rims of the water gardens, looking for something. Hope he found it.