At the registration table for the first class last night, the woman in charge asked if I was "THE Charles Deemer, the playwright." I don't get much of that any more -- in fact, I'd say it's been over a year since this kind of name recognition has happened for me here. Today the arts communities are headed, by and large, by younger artists who were just kids, if even born, during my period of greatest local visibility in the 1980s. So, yes, it was nice to hear this. Even dinosaurs need love ha ha.
The class was informative last night but I'm not sure I'll embrace it with as much enthusiasm as H does because of certain pedagogical issues at work. More about this later. But it will be fun, even if it turns out being something less than I had hoped for.
The forecast has a week of seasonal, summer weather ahead. If true, maybe I finally can get into the work rhythm I envisioned for this summer when I turned in my grades with such anticipation six weeks ago. We've had six weeks of gray unseasonable summer weather.
Read up on the novella, re-engaged and excited about it, so presumably I'll get some writing done later today. I am not up now for the duration -- but I'm up. I'll return to bed eventually before I begin the day in earnest.
Looks like the netbook can be repaired for a price making it worth while. Get the final word in a day or two.
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