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Last night at Tanglewood was terrific. Listening to the Boston Symphony play Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition and being near my new friends on our picnic blankets, I experienced what seemed like a moment of pure happiness and tried to sear it into my memory, for days in the future when I’m feeling down.
It’s funny, though: there’s such a difference between being with all men, as I was during the day, and being with women this evening. Men – most straight men, anyway – are such clods. Women, on the other hand, have spunk; they know how to laugh and relate.
The music was strange and hypnotic, and as I listened, I looked around at Conrad, Anne, Preston, Lucille, Dan, Jane, Sandy Walker and his ever-present dog, Michael, Ellen and Elaine, and I thought: These people are all so talented and beautiful, I could be in love with all of them.