Didn't get a lot of writing done during my second week, but I read a great deal & thought about what I was reading, which is often the way I feed the work. I like the semi-solitude here, but a month of it will be enough. As with most arts colonies, one is able to participate as much or as little in group activities. I tend to be a loaner, though I do enjoy the dinner conversations. Beautiful weather today -- nearly cloudless sky, a little cool this morning but promising warmth by afternoon. The forcast says the next couple of days will be the same. I haven't really minded the rainy days we've had since I'm not a big hiker, boater or swimmer (I'm a walker); but the sparkling lake this morning is a joy. Reading: Hayden Carruth's Collected Shorter Poems, John Dewey's Art as Experience, William Barrett's The Illusion of Technique, Marshall Berman's All that is Solid Melts into Air, & John Ashbery's Notes from the Air. About half of this is new reading, half things I've read before. Naturally, in my reading & in my own work I'm still fussing with the relationship between word & thing, mind & world. I've been fussing at these issues since I was eighteen, so why should I stop now? This is certainly a lovely place for such fussing.