Dear Diary: Aestivation
In the past, my approach to summer has been to cut back on the blogging, particularly in August, in the interest of “relaxing,” or “taking stock,” or doing whatever it is that magazine writers dream up for one’s summer. This year, I shall cut back on everything but blogging.
What with balladant with Jean Ruaud — we’re off to the Cloisters tomorrow — and a few pre-existing evening engagements, I won’t be sitting around the blue room very much this week. That’s why I buckled down this afternoon and got as far as choosing half the links for Thursday’s Daily Office. I discovered a few nice sites today, one of which, An Open Book, looks very agreeable, probably because its author, Brooks Peters, in a photo “taken ages ago,” looks both welcoming and smart — sadly, a rare combination. He writes that way, too.
I had a nice letter from George Snyder this morning. I sometimes wish that George lived in New York, instead of in Los Angeles, but if he did live in New York, we’d probably be less in touch. According to a Proustian law of iron — if Proust didn’t formulate it, he ought to have done — we see friends who live nearby rarely or never, precisely because we can, hypothetically, see them whenever we like. In fact, however, we’re much too busy doing other things. When a friend arrives from the other side of the earth, in contrast, we drop everything and make the most of the visit. I’m having a wonderful time doing exactly that with Jean; it’s as though I’m the one on vacation. I see that I must urge Fossil Darling to move to Australia.
Which is more tiring? Walking miles and miles or following links and links? No matter: the two together have wiped me out. We’re promised very good weather for tomorrow, which will make Fort Tryon Park pop with rustic beauty. Readers of Mnémoglyphes and Beware Wet Paint! can look forward to some beautiful pictures.