Lecture

I made some notes during the day, stayed in my office and reread a few things. Talked about paper-making, printing with movable type, the beginning of the humanist movement, and Lucretius. I was fairly coherent, and answered some good questions at the end. It was fun, talking about some things that interest me. Left out much material because I didn't want to bore them. Afterward it seemed I could have gone on a bit more. It's all in the detail, and since I tend to notice detail, it's not hard to go on. But I absolutely did not mention frogs, or the fox. The people that came wandered around the museum afterwards, Mark and Charlotte were putting away chairs, and they told me to go home, they could lock up. So I did, driving slowly, because the deer are everywhere; the last couple of miles, through the forest, is a nightmare of eyes. I hate driving at night now, I used to love it, but now, there's a level of anxiety, and I'm not so sure. I navigate home, and it's beautiful, the ridge still encased in snow. Got a drink, started a fire and promptly fell asleep, slept a solid eight hours. Felt well-rested for the first time in a month. Couldn't do much at work because there were to puppet shows in the theater, both over-sold, for fourth and fifth graders. The shows was great and the kids were loud in their appreciation. Retellings of classic stories, with full-size puppets that the puppeteers just held in front of them. Lots of puns. There's another performance tonight, but I left early, to heat up water and have a bath. Dragged the sheep-watering trough inside, next to the stove, and put on five gallons of water. I pull a chair over, on which to put my supplies: clippers, my best towel, a body sponge, my bath-robe and clean socks, a drink, an ashtray and several pre-rolled cigarettes, and a bottle of lotion, because I pretty much need a complete rub-down. Wood heat equals dry skin. Several nice conversations with Sara and Charlotte today, they bragged about my talk last night, but, in truth, I felt I could have done better. Sara asked me directly, we were having a smoke in the alley, whether I was ever satisfied, and I told her no, not actually, because I always forget to mention telling details. Petrarch and Montaigne. We actually have Montaigne's copy of Lucretius, heavily annotated, in his hand. As authentic as anything could be. And he quibbles about minor points, but for the most part he agrees that "On the Natural World" is a great book. I can't believe how exhausted I am, praying for another night of uninterrupted sleep. I fully intend to turn my head to the wall tomorrow morning, and sleep past the sunrise.