It's 6:10. I'm in bed sitting up under the covers. I have lit the magic lantern on the dresser. The flame glows and casts a sheen over the page opened to the Elegant Optimist, Edward Carpenter, to whom a minute ago in the loo I said I love you when I saw that his gaze was directed at me. So now he's here with me, by the flame... [illegible - my words ran over one another as I wrote in the dark] touch his cheek run my fingers over his face.
It's a beautiful set of objects, pale roses in a crystal vase, the magic lantern, lit by one of my few remaining Lupa matches [one left], a swan or snow goose vase, found on Atlantic Avenue I think, topped with a scalloped shade [illegible, one line written over the other] desk mirror framed in white [drapes parted to let in the light].
I ask D if I could have the car this morning. There are places I'd like to see, errands to run. [I think of the Nields song now... "I'm so busy this December there are places I should be... waiting for epiphany." Are you in a motel room somewhere near?]. I'd like to see the house in Stuyvesant. We are completely out of bird seed & that's not acceptable to me. We've always fed the birds and now for days we're not. I want to take a walk at the conservation area. Maybe tomorrow. D simply can't spare the car today. It's ok - I've always tried to coordinate with him.I look out the window now. It's snowing out. The roads will be a mess.
D tells me he'll pick up birdseed today & I can have the car tomorrow.