Saturday, October 23, 2010

October 20, 2010

The garden had never been richer in roses. It is a cruel blessing, coming just before the frost. Red and gold and pink. I really want to move so I can have more land to plant more roses.
October 19, 2010

They delivered my bed yesterday. It looks huge in the room, and is rather severe in the firmness department. I had a touch of fever last night, and the inaugural sleep was full of investigation of various features of the bed–buttons to push, services to experience–which of course it does not have. The two Haverty’s delivery men had piercing blue eyes and a sense of humor they must have honed on each other through the long hours. The big one was twenty five and already had severe back problems. I saw him carrying the mattress by himself, back bent in an S, looking down at the difficult stones .

Drove down Pisgah Highway today looking at properties I had read of online. Actually found some of them. Every such foray has made staying put look better. I think that I’d rather live where I lived once in the past, when it comes down to it, rather than forging ahead into the new. I lay down on the huge hard new bed and dreamed a nap dream, and in it I was traveling with Maud the Cat. At one point I got sick of traveling, and the cat and I took a turn and found ourselves in Galway. It was night, and the streets were dark and bright at once, full of laughter, and I was so, so happy. I had come home. Not only was I in Galway, but the Knoll Shop, the candy store that delighted me when I was a boy in Akron, was there, and just as it was.
October 18, 2010

Dark of the morning. Dream: I was at the Dublin airport waiting for a bus to Sligo. I’d lost my passport, and had to decide whether t stay in Dublin and try to get my passport back, or continue on. I thought that if I could just get to Sligo, everything would be all right, passport or none.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

October 16, 2010

Music from the court of Charles V on the CD. Days of flawless, radiant blue sky. The hills are blinding in their variety of colors. It is the Lord’s own autumn.

Looking hard at a property on Pine Forest Road in Weaverville. It has the forest I need to transfigure, and the rest is, at least, adequate. The house looks like a Hobbit dwelling. I can live with that. It will look less Hobbity when the toys disappear from the yard and the zoomorphic windchimes from the eaves. I have one more day to think about it before I phone the bank and begin the process, or don’t.

The property has the further merit of being close to Reems Creek Nursery, where I stopped to buy–something–which turned out to be a holly tree. I actually bought the tree for the woods at Pine Forest, but I don’t own it yet, so I planted it in my own front yard. The planting was unusually laborious; I don’t think the tree will survive, for that reason, because it was so laborious. Things that will prosper usually have a lightheartedness, a kind of inevitability about them. I take it is a sign of probable failure when I have worked too hard.

Angels in America at NC Stage last night. MM’s Roy Cohn added something missing from every other interpretation of that part I’ve ever seen, including Pacino’s, and that is humanity. One might say MM the man is not capable of inhumanity, but one might say the actor found dimensions in the character which made him, at times, almost too complicated for the play, an evil too multi-valenced to be entirely hissed. Ethel Rosenberg came off as a bit of a harpy, foretelling the bitter death of one we did not entirely hate. The production had everything talent and skilled rehearsal could bring to it. It was, in that sense, flawless. It lacked dazzle, sparkle, surprise, but those come and go with the night and the spirits that rule the corners of the stage, and their descent cannot be prepared for any more than the angel’s.

Had to fight the receptionist to have before theater cocktails at Zambra’s. I asked to be seated, and she said that we had to have a reservation and that all the tables were taken. The fact was that NONE of the tables were taken. I asked to see the manager, and he seated us. It was 6, and she was keeping tables open for reservations at 7:30. Plus, she had too many tattoos, and I think sometimes that introduces impurities into the blood which block good sense. We had to dodge a fight between the (perfectly enormous) bouncer and a drunken patron to get into Scully’s afterward. A laborious night. Except everyone in Scully’s that evening was physically beautiful, so it was worth the labor.
October 15, 2010

DJ and I cruised Weaverville and the Reems Creek area looking for likely properties. I sort of like doing it, but it’s a huge syphon of energy and time. Even the evening after was laid waste. Like any kind of shopping, it exhausts and discourages me.

Letter from an agent admiring the power of The Riding Funhouse but complaining that the opening sounds sketched in and hasty. I tamped down my scorn and looked at the book, and the opening is sketched in an hasty. He was right. In one of those great and silent victories, I went back to the beginning. Deep into it now, liking it better, smiling as Im write, and there has not been on ray of fury.
October 13, 2010

Bought a bed. Never have had my own bed, but a mattress and box springs on the floor all my adult life. Enough of that.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

October 12, 2010

Four in the morning. Why? So I can tap-tap-tap on this machine. Talked to Sarah about her wedding, met her lanky groom, shared gossip about the dragon lady of our common experience. Would I go on the way I was going if I were certain everybody hated me for it? Would I lose friends and leave a bitter taste in all mouths only to have it the second best way? Went to the Woodfin Y after WEEKS away, and J at the counter said, “You’ve been away so long and you haven’t sent my any pictures of your summer adventure,” and why was I set the trial of not being able to say, “I can’t come here because of the sure knowledge that you will nag me for the pictures that I told you the first time do not exist.” If I could just walk in and work out and nothing more, life would be good. Being asked the second time for what I decided not to provide the first time infuriates me more than anything else. People have the idea that persistence wins in the end, but me it seals like an angry clam. Please, world, learn this.

Golden waterlily in the golden autumn.

Titus speaks through the open window at something lurking out in the dark.