Stayed up late last night to watch the exciting simultaneous overtime games in the NCAA Men's Basketball tournament. On one channel, Sienna and Ohio State, on the other, Wisconsin and Florida State. Switching back and forth every few seconds not to miss a thing. Great stuff. I tried to explain to Dean that this was what March Madness was all about. The sacred mystery, the holy grail, the agony and the ecstasy, yadda yadda. He was not impressed.
This story is full of all kinds of crazy: A transgender woman faces sentencing in Ohio for making her 73-year-old husband exercise to death in a swimming pool She looks oddly familiar . . . has she been on TV before?
Foggy this morning. Gray and wintry. I ordered a eucalyptus glider/love-seat from Plow and Hearth and we put it together Thursday. It was really interesting that it shipped from Vietnam. It's quite sturdy, and the wood is amazing. Can hardly wait for spring to get here so we can enjoy it.
The new Poetry Bestseller list is up at Poetry Foundation. Does Mary Oliver really have another new book out? Does she ever rest?
There's a great essay by Fanny Howe in the latest issue of Poetry.
"One way to understand your own condition is to write something and spend a long time revising it. The errors, the hits and misses, the excess—erase them all."