Up 8. Weight 213.3.
Someone left their keys in our building door; I held onto them and put up a note; our neighbor Wesley came by an hr. later, thanked me profusely, gave me cookies. Had a little idea, so took care of the daybook early, and got some way into Hartman's chapter on free verse. (Surprised that he cites a Bob Perelman poem.) Left around 11, read Pollack on train to coffee/Oracle. Worked until 3, when I had arranged to meet Thomas Coombes, a friend visiting from Newfoundland. Had a coffee and then beer/a bite, talked about music. Came back about 7:30, kept at it 'til 10. Output: 834 pretty solid words (+ persnickety footnotes) on "Swanee." Tees me up for "Stairway to Paradise," but there are other tasks to attend to tomorrow. Home; to p. 200 in Pollack, lights out 1.