I threw. Scout ran. I threw again. Scout ran some more.
And now he waits.
Evidently when one uses “cyclobenzaprine” in a post, worry ensues. Fear not–my back is almost all better. I resume boxing next week.
This link to a Boston Globe article about my good friend Steve Trefonides is long overdue. He’s an incredible artist, person, and mentor. In the few years I’ve known him, I learned that self-doubt is universal–among artists especially, though maybe we just whinge louder–and the most talented seldom realize they are.
In 1961 The New Yorker tossed off a snarky mini-review of Richard Yates’ Revolutionary Road. Does it dissuade? Actually, it made me want to go back and read RR again. Criticism does that sometimes. Like a man in a suit imploring you not to look behind that door.
To bed. Tomorrow brings mystery.
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