Paled and shadowed.

The rainfall late this morning was only the beginning: this week was the one when--in addition to the true and humbling greatness of Tuesday night--all the shit everywhere hit any fan it could find. Two-thirds of the way through the semester, we find ourselves confronting the Big Questions, the ones that make my head and heart hurt. Is it possible to teach civility? do we tackle racism or sexism first? Can we tackle either on its own? Is it possible to tame the irrational and horrifying parts of human nature through strenuous exercise of reason? Are we allowed to pretend that we don't know there are great panting chasms on every side of where we tread--just so that we can get through a week? Will anything ever get better, truly better?

By the time I came home for dinner, I realized that the last place I wanted to be was alone in my own mess in the apartment, and so I headed next door to perch in my flaming-sworded friend's living room for a little while. It wasn't long before I was ready to eat my soup, practice my reading, and head off to perform my latest prose-piece-in-development for an audience of friends and fans. I am pleased beyond anything that working on it this week has allowed me to remember a detail I love from my childhood and that I return to every once in awhile: my father once told me that on a paisley tie, it's important that the paisleys touch--so that none of them will get lonely. Everything my father touched like that came to life then, and still does now.

Tonight I sit in my new desk chair: finally, the right kind of chair, for here in my home. It's time: the real work needs to get going now.