Friday. December 7 Woke at 4:30;
it was too early, but when I go back to sleep I have these dreams that wear me
out. I guess the mind is working
overtime. I wake with a headache.
I want to have
a gentle day. I step outside
however at 7:45 AM and there is shooting…I just cannot take it anymore. It is like living in a war zone; I might as
well be in Afghanistan, Iraq and have my sky punctuated each day with gun
fire. My peace is disturbed; I am
suffering from probably what soldiers experience:
There was a
litany for artists who have died this year.
Elliot Carter, whose music nobody understood. Gore Vidal said, “Being dead is no worse than
being born. Death is no thing,
nothing. I like the quote, by Gerald
Manley Hopkins “It is the blight man was born for…” that’s the contract we
signed. There is nothing to fear in death.
Vidal died this year at age 86
Zubin Mehta went from NY Philharmonic to LA Philharmonic. ?? Listened to the first radio
Listened to
the first radio broadcast of the season for the Metropolitan Opera; it was
glorious, beyond wonderful, superlative!
I was riveted to the sound. "Mascone"
…one I have seen and for which I think I once had the recording? I had the libretto.
I walked up
the hill to the knoll…but lost the light…and then did not do the down hill
uphill this afternoon…got kindling, as I got wood, this morning…and tended to
household tasks…preparing for moving out.
Read in
Kindle: Diane Vreeland, very
superficial…alalala
What to
do. Sent Gail a subscription to Harpers
as a reciprocity for her New Yorker subscriptions for all those years in
China,,,,which seem far away, now.
Brooke
wrote… she
thinks they are going to Oregon for Christmas, but they decide to go to Beijing at the last moment! .
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