"...Tired and not mentally alert. I heard my neighbors...and I imagined them watching me with puzzlement (I doubt if they really knew I was there!) But it inhibited me..."
To Wallpaper picnic at Ebenezer. Over at 11:30 - But few fellows there - and only one I knew, a block-cutter (I could not recall his name but fortunately someone called him by name Johnny Siska) - He said "Hello Charlie, old boy" - and I felt a warm glow of being welcomed.
The drive was interesting. I reached Salamanca by dusk, and got my dinner in a diner, and enjoyed it. The drive home then was all in darkness, and exhausted as I was with my painting, a nerve-racking job.
A dream— On an expedition with Moe, Young and others (unidentified) of the Guggenheim Jury, into the Appalachian Mts, in search of rare botanical specimens. We found several groups of a strange Jack-in-the-pulpit, growing at the bases of huge mossing beeches.
A day opening with depression ending with a strange gladness – A storm dissolves at morning in a powerful yellow sunrise – the roaring rain turning yellow...
In studio in morning studying the sketch I made yesterday – It seems to have more to it than I supposed yesterday, yet I cannot bring myself to touch it yet, for time alone will tell whether I have said what I wanted to say.
Dream: Of being in a woods, and coming upon a picture by Hopper which he had just completed...
What I need most of all now is a period of complete solitude in which I can meditate at length – It is essential to my being – yet it is denied me...
"...What true poetry about a freight whistle! It is inexpressible..."
"Dog-days" are here - Stagnant stifling weather hot, humid air, the sun shining brassily from a haze-thickened sky - In the morning heavy dew, with countless silvery 86.