August 15, 2026

Revising An Age of Silver, almost stupid with joy.

Tony had messed with my aerator, making it sputter like an open vein. Inarticulate with rage. 

Flora gave me fairest flowers.

Gawdawful art work to accompany our disappointing Holiday “theme.” Arid to the point of unintended humor. B’s boyfriend again at work. Part of it is on me, as, I imagine, as my departure from the planning committee leaves no voice of correction. Unfortunately, when they fall, so do we, having countenanced it, in my case for the sake of tranquility. In my case it is almost always for the sake of tranquility. This is a fault I couldn’t recognize until it had been repeatedly manifest. Maybe I made good on all that tranquility. Maybe not. Maybe some of it.