All writ out

I was planning to write something intelligent in my blog today but, sorry, I'm all writ out. I've been writing all day, fixing the chapter I'm calling "The Sacred Urbanism of the Maya," and I think I may finally have got it right. I'll give it a rest and read it the day after tomorrow; I hope it'll still make sense.

The only other things to report: last night, with our good friends Michael & Marta A., we saw "The Controversy of Valladolid," Jean-Claude Carrière's play at the Public Theater. Big disappointment. It's as exasperatingly dull as Charles Isherwood says it is in today's NYT. No matter. It was good to get together with M & M, whose daughter Nurit has us all both worried and proud -- she's reporting for the Washington Post from Afghanistan.

Also, on Saturday Susana & I took our last chance to see "The Gates" in Central Park. Fantastic! Made me think of Mongol-Turkic mounted hordes arrayed with their banners (this has something to do with my writing a novel about Mongol-Turkic hordes). And imagining myself as a Turkish mounted archer, I persuaded Susana to join me on the prancing, ferocious steeds of the Central Park carousel. I must have had a good time, because some women who had been watching us said I looked like a delighted twelve year old. Gee. Well, it did feel good.

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