The Visible Woman...March 19, 2003

I work on this journal without much progress. I wonder if I should be doing this journal. Is it all that important? Is it at all important? Of course not.

I made social plans with people. I'm becoming kind of a social chairman for FFP and some of my friends.

I showered and dressed at my club. Because today I'm not just a lady of leisure, a lady who lunches, but a lady who has tea. I was early so I sat in the bar and had a tonic water reading Nabokov's Pnin.

This is the first time my club has had tea and, frankly, I didn't think they would have much interest. I was wrong about that. There were forty or fifty women and children. Women in hats. One in a purple hat. They had Margaret Wright on the piano. They had precious mini scones and fruit and desserts and little tiny sandwiches. My friend Allan went with me. He was the one and only man having tea.

SuRu and Zoey and I did a walk in the evening. SuRu came over to share in some Bratwurst and kraut with me. We had some wine, too. FFP had eaten a bit before we finished walking.

We are at war. Whatever TV might be watched is usurped by the reality TV of war. I end up watching Slacker on some movie channel that doesn't feel compelled to interrupt with war. I'm not being crass here. I'm reading and watching about war. I feel helpless and sorry about it all just as I do about other horrors. I just don't think watching endless repeats of tape loops of tanks and bombing actually elucidates. I thought Slacker was black and white and there was stuff I didn't remember correctly. It's odd the tricks memory plays.

			a day of dislocation This day felt odd. I work on this journal without much progress. I wonder if I should be doing this journal. Is it all that important? Is it at all important? Of course not. I made social plans with people. I'm becoming kind of a social chairman for FFP and some of my friends. I worked out, trying to get accustomed to this new routine designed for me. I showered and dressed at my club. Because today I'm not just a lady of leisure, a lady who lunches, but a lady who has tea. I was early so I sat in the bar and had a tonic water reading Nabokov's Pnin. This is the first time my club has had tea and, frankly, I didn't think they would have much interest. I was wrong about that. There were forty or fifty women and children. Women in hats. One in a purple hat. They had Margaret Wright on the piano. They had precious mini scones and fruit and desserts and little tiny sandwiches. My friend Allan went with me. He was the one and only man having tea. SuRu and Zoey and I did a walk in the evening. SuRu came over to share in some Bratwurst and kraut with me. We had some wine, too. FFP had eaten a bit before we finished walking. We are at war. Whatever TV might be watched is usurped by the reality TV of war. I end up watching Slacker on some movie channel that doesn't feel compelled to interrupt with war. I'm not being crass here. I'm reading and watching about war. I feel helpless and sorry about it all just as I do about other horrors. I just don't think watching endless repeats of tape loops of tanks and bombing actually elucidates. I thought Slacker was black and white and there was stuff I didn't remember correctly. It's odd the tricks memory plays.

	people in Times Square "On several occasions I have actually read parts of my diary aloud to someone. But too much 'publicity' is destructive to a diary, because the diarist begins, unconsciously perhaps, to leave out, to tone down, to pep up, to falsify experience, and the reason for the undertaking becomes buried beneath posings." Gail Godwin, A Diarist on Diarists
	JUST TYPING We are in a war. But not in our neighborhood. People pay more attention. When buildings close by. Fall down. It's human nature.

Wednesday, March 19, 2003