Victory

 November 4, 2026

Heavy, chill rain.

Yesterday’s referendum turned out better than I expected, actually better than I imagined, for when I wished my wishes for the Democratic majorities in House and Senate, they were less than what actually transpired. Victory almost everywhere, with margins unanticipated. Elation has kept me from functioning well during the day, but that’s OK. I was at ASC rehearsal, and when I turned the TV on it was at the moment Roy Cooper was announced as our Senator. I burst into tears. That was almost enough. I didn’t expect more and better was yet to come. I fell asleep in front of the TV sometime after 3. I had imagined some hero–like Jack Smith–arriving to destroy Trump and American fascism with a fist of iron. This was much, much better: the people ourselves rose up and said, “enough.”  Madison looks down from heaven murmuring, “I told you so.”

Shipped “Into the Forest” to Sam in Liberty, Ohio, in gratitude for his work on The Falls of the Wyona. Bought a painting at Loretto’s new show at the Trinity in Dublin. 

 November 3, 2026

Tobi at Red Hen Oks the audiobook. The first dew in a long, dry season. 

My heart misgives me on this election day. Only a smashing victory will do the good that needs to be done, and though the polls suggest that victory is nigh, the polls have mislead in the past. The entire world holds its breath.  

November 2, 2026

R has died. I knew him–what?– twenty years? Thinking of his beautiful yard in East Asheville, his absurd apparel, his roses, the painting I gave him in return for multiple kindnesses. He would arrive in my driveways with books for me to read and bulbs for me to plant. 

Filled the feeders and hung the seed logs for the winter birds. 

Byrd’s Mass for Four Voices may be the greatest piece of vocal music. 

 

 November 1, 2026

Faure’s Requiem at First Presbyterian for All Saints The acoustics of the building was new to me, dry and isolating, the sound of my own voice unfamiliar. I could hear myself correcting flaws I didn’t know I had. 

 October 31, 2026

Rehearsal downtown at First Presbyterian. As is my practice, I went early, parked distantly, and walked through town. Extravagant Halloween costumes were everywhere. A disabled man in a wheelchair sold his paintings near Pack Square, and I bought one, a messy, naive landscape with towering mountains spidery trees, and a waterfall. He showed me the red marks in the trees that are cardinals. He said, “My mother fed cardinals on our windowsill, and they came to her. When she died, I thought the cardinals were her spirit come to look after me.” 

Through the town I went at considerable speed. I never lost my breath. I never wobbled. Tomorrow will tell if this is restoration. 

 October 30, 2026

Perfect day. I sat on the front porch just at twilight and the peace and loveliness were so great one had to disturb them for a moment to appreciate them again.

M is dead

Patrick Stewart is dead.

R fell in hospice and is lingering in a coma in a ruined body. 

L is on the verge of death from Alzheimer’s. Carol L writes of her: We have an update on L. . .. She is deteriorating with her Alzheimer’s. She can no longer bathe or dress herself and cannot hold a conversation.  Her speech is also garbled.  Please keep her and her family in your prayers.  This disease is rapidly progressing since January.  Ellen received this update.

L and I lived a block from each other, and once, after long consideration, I walked to her house and asked her to be my girlfriend. I knew boys and girls kept each other company, but I was so without a sexual impulse toward women that I didn’t understand actual desire was involved, that a boy longed to be with a certain girl and the other way around. I figured it was just something you do, and I might as well get a start doing it. L replied that she already had a boyfriend. I knew him, so there was no awkwardness on any side. I wonder if she ever told that story, or remembered it. Ken C (we called him Ken Canoe because he was the canoe boy at Camp Manatoc) got on at the same school bus stop, and I never realized my sick-making, extravagant longing for him was the relevant impulse applied to a different person. Male love was so unspoken-of I presumed I had invented it. 

Moon

October 29, 2026

Days that seemed to have been productive, though I haven’t managed to write much of it down. 

Planted black violas is pots and the raised beds. Received a new (and forgotten) shipment of iris. 

Took paintings to the framer, which has become prohibitively expensive. It would be cheaper to rent a workshop, buy tools, and do the work myself.  One of the paintings is meant for Dan and David’s house above the river. I haven’t heard from any of the Georgians in so long– hoping it isn’t conflict over our inharmonious politics, which I try not to mention.

Faure Requiem this weekend. Jonathan sounds terrific. Our sopranos don’t so much, alternately wispy or strident. The transparent textures of the piece are not served. 

Rabbit wait in the drive for me when I return at night.

An audiobook of The Falls of the Wyona seems to be back on track. I had assumed it was another scam.

Great fall moon follows me through my western windows, at a different place each night when I rise up and go to the toilet.