January 29, 2018

Rose and baked maple cookies for my evening class. They gave me a list of the various things they’re allergic to, and I was able to steer clear of, at least, peanuts and tree nuts. Later: Made it through class energized and on top of the action. I think the THING is over for a while, though it hangs in the background like one dark cloud high in the north.  Quite good work from the students.

January 28, 2018

Invited Sam to come with me to NM run-through Saturday afternoon. Glad I did, for many reasons, but also to confirm that what I saw was sweet, lyrical, innocent, heartfelt, adept, all the things I was hoping the production would finally be. Deep sigh of relief. Tech, of course, is still a catastrophe, but one carries a measure of faith for just such things. Pizza down the street afterwards– the first time in a decade or more when I actually had pizza at a pizza place, the “drunken clam” version having proved irresistible. I admire Sam for the wide open road before him. Told him–without expecting to–of my hurt at the prevaricating betrayal of the cadre of students from last semester. We agreed that two things astonish us– my astonishment being greater because I went longer without seeing them coming: the first is that women, most women, most women whom one knows, perhaps the great preponderance of women, have lived lives of threat and peril and open fear, unable to move freely through their own destiny because of the fear of violence or ruinous partiality on the part of men. Not feeling these things myself, I didn’t credit them until “Me too” fell like rain. The second is how American institutions and American prestige can fall into ruin in the course of one year with the right bad man with the right wicked party behind him. The rhetoric of the Republican Party is not different from that of the Gestapo; the rhetoric and tactics of Trump are not different from Hitler’s; the difference is that the tattered remnants of those democratic institutions prevent, so far, actions fit to the words. The last time I remember feeling such sea-change was the day of the Kent State murders.

January 27, 2018

Donated three paintings to the Cantaria auction. One is experimental; two are among my best. This is one of the days when the pond is clear as glass, and all its gliding hidden life exposed.

January 26, 2018

Made it through rehearsals. Bought groceries. Real work is still beyond me, except that I did write a poem.

Want to contact Stewart and ask him Why the Hell the Recessed Lighting? One of 2 things (the other being too few electric outlets) that irk me about this house.  Changing a spent bulb is an ordeal, one which only my tiny hands make possible.

January 25, 2018

Rose, after extended and lovely dreams, feeling quite well, except for an achy, itchy leg. I see that the diseases and infirmities of age will be attended by isolation– if I had died on day #1 of this nobody would have found me yet. Still. . . one moves forward, providing as one can. I think of the flurry of hand-wringing and sighs and telephone calls when someone in the choir gets sick. Someone ELSE in the choir. I suppose I project a different aspect, somehow.

Final Title IX report from the university watchdogs, absolving me from violation of THAT, whatever else my sins might be. The report makes it unmistakably clear that it was a set-up:

In addition, the student group itself provided a wide range of disparities about Dr. H’s general behavior, but mirrored accounts of discrimination on the basis of sex. They often shared items with me that had nothing to do with Title IX and that seemed frivolous in regards to the creation of safe spaces vs. academic freedom. Although all of the students were in one or more of his classes together, none of them reported consistent behavior by Dr. H in regards to any discriminatory remarks or language. I found the accounts of the seven students left me with more questions than answers. For example, despite having a written charge of specific behaviors alleged by the students, when questioned in person, the stories did not match up and/or were not consistent. When I questioned students about these inconsistencies their responses tended to be, “Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot about that”; or “I don’t remember exactly”. While both of these responses are reasonable expectations given the alleged behavior occurred over the course of a semester, it lacks support to meet the preponderance standard specifically related to Title IX. Given some of the stories shared with me by the students and the language used, it is very possible that the students believe faculty should be absolutely objective at all times in the classroom. I find this expectation counter intuitive to the tenants of academic freedom and a liberal arts education.

I figured this was pretty much retribution for my catching them at cheating (the plaintives are EXACTLY the same group as the cheaters, plus one bewildered boy) , and though I thought I treated that with saint-like forbearance, they clearly thought retaliation was necessary. The report goes on to say that, basically, I’m a lout, if a lout within the law. What a waste of time it all was. What hurts is the image of them getting together to concoct a story that they assumed would do me real harm, when there has never been a moment when their welfare was not central to my concern. Sometimes–nay, often-- irritating their privileged and ignorant sensibilities is central to their welfare, if they could allow themselves to believe it.

Q has been blabbing to everyone–or at least someone-- the disasters NM has been going through. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Wiley has agreed to do a blurb for NSDL. Now I’m consumed with anxiety that he may think it’s stupid.

January 24, 2018

Made it through my long day (in this case, 10 to 8:30) not quite unscathed. Rick said, “You’re really not looking your old self.” Had to ask a student for a ride to my car– having had to park a long distance away, and finding that parking place by getting out and removing the orange cone that was– for no particular reason I could see--blocking it. Removed the next one too for the student who pulled up behind me. The normally humane campus is derelict when it comes to parking, blocking off scores of faculty parking according, evidently, to whim. Meanwhile, easily 100 “visitor” parking places stand empty. A good fairy should come and deprive them of their orange cones. 

The audio was off in my classroom and I had to tell them all the Irish stories I had planned elaborate videos for. Maybe it was better; maybe it was worse. How to tell from their faces?

January 23, 2018

Met my playwrights last night. The class is twice the size of the optimum, though I’m glad for the interest in playwriting. Hard to know how to deal with that, other than to beg everybody’s patience. Arriving forty minutes late was a big husky boy in a skirt who wanted to be called Scarlet. Not only that, but he announced his need to be warned if the talk were going to be about rape, because he goes into a panic attack if he hears harsh talk on certain subjects. He acknowledged a disconnect between the attitudes of students about such things and the attitudes of the faculty, anticipating correctly that I would consider it a cheap way of controlling discourse, a kind of emotional blackmail. He assured the class that it was completely physical and completely beyond his control. Turbulent class, but generally a good turbulence.

Very extended and elaborate dream of my going to a small town in Ohio and buying a big downtown hotel. I had to borrow money from my mother to do it. I remember the heat of desire in my heart when I finally decided I would do it. The hotel looked down on a typically derelict Main Street, but the lobby was lofty and gorgeous, all in green and pale marble. One window had been broken and white doves had gotten in. My future employees were happy with the development, and were already suggesting menus for when the dining room reopened. I spent a long time choosing fixtures and planning for the future. Still smiling when I woke.