Friends and readers,
Dance fusion ended on Simon and Garfunkle’s Sound of Silence this morning:
1966. Jim was 18, no admiral then. A gifted boy with choices in front of him that he rightly didn’t want in the sixth form in public school.
Today he would have been 66. After dance fusion this morning, I drove to Mason (I had better re-name the university the way others have, so no more GMU) to renew a group of books; this afternoon I go into DC to hear a lecture with the Washington Area Print group at the Library of Congress on”How Televison came to be Novels.” Then there is dinner with those who stay. Last night up late watching a beautifully cinematographic sensitively acted intelligent film by Daniel Antueil (he again [see Marius and Fanny] plays the father too, of another Pagnol novel, Englished as The Well-Digger’s Daughter; I didn’t finish it as it was too long to sit up for so I’ll do that tonight.
I miss him, dislike intensely the beautiful weather, wish he were here to enjoy the soft rain (he never seemed to pay attention to the trees like colored parasols).
I don’t have anyone to tell my little triumphs (like my library card was renewed) or failures (didn’t dance so well, have discovered learning piano is no trivial task and seen how I lack intuition for this, goof and don’t understand). And today I came home to discover by mistake I had closed ClaryCat into my workroom while I was gone. How she slid by me and hid away I don’t know. I felt bad. She is trying to stop my typing just now. She was his cat. Ian has brought a string toy to play.
All the things he might have done, seen, heard, eaten, drunk, experienced last year, this summer, now this fall. I can’t begin to imagine. Oblivion. How does one think death? It defies me. An absence, non-existence can’t look on or hear, or I’d write him letters and tell him all that has happened this year, all the changes in his house, put them on this blog.
1981. Jim and I had left NYC a year ago that summer, and it is probable we didn’t go, but it is the sort of thing we went to regularly and in later years we returned to NYC to go to Central Park for plays and concerts. One of the last movies he and I saw together we saw in a theater not far from Lincoln Center, February 2013, “Koch” and he liked it.