Farewell to Andre

I watched Agassi's last professional tennis match. He fell to B. Becker. I thought it was rather amusing that he would lose to an old nemesis. *wink* Anyway, Agassi looked old and tired. As someone who has experienced back pain from tennis, I could sympathize with poor Andre. He was wincing in pain when he had to bend down to tie his shoes. Anyway, I was hoping he'd get into the quarter finals or semi's to top Jimmy Connor's last run at the US Open, but alas. Outside of that, Steffi Graf was looking good and I wish Andre well in his retirement.

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My parents were here for the weekend. They were quite impressed with the modifications we've made. Last time they came to visit, the house was dark, unkempt, old-looking. My folks are looking for a retirement house. They've JUST realized that their market for houses is not the same as THIS market for houses. Mere and I rode in the real estate agent's car with my folks. I could tell the agent was getting frustrated, so Mere and I took it upon ourselves to explain the differences between desire and availability. The tours weren't fruitless, though. We saw some items we'd like to integrate into our own living spaces.

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Writing day today. I had to put the desk on hold while the parents were in town. I've been really into this poem series . . . So far, about ten drafts of poems that I'll need to tidy-up. I've also got a couple of essays I need to spit out soon.

I spoke with Adrian Matejka and Stacey Brown the other day (HI! If you're reading). It was good talking to them. I'm alone with my thoughts on poetry for most of the time, so I enjoyed talking to them about the state of poetry these days.