out loud.
It’s all poems & lists this summer, & not enough of those. I made excuses: I’ve been in my kitchen, I’ve been in my studio. There are vegetables from our CSA; am I to let them spoil? I have a deadline, I have to finish the piece; but the deadline is past, the piece is hung, the New York Times called the show "compelling", & the iPad I bought myself as a late birthday gift, my most expensive notebook, remains neglected.
I’ve made some beautiful soups, though. An ethereal pesto. During the heat wave, there was zucchini slaw with dill & purslane, there were the tea-boiled eggs I missed from the little tea house in Las Vegas, there was cool green gazpacho. We’ve had friends over for dinner nearly half the Sunday nights this summer; I always wanted to have the home where people gathered.
The show closes at the end of the week, & the studio remains a disaster. We’re still finding glitter on the soles of our feet, no matter how many times we sweep. The reviews are good. I plan the next two pieces, although I don’t know what they’re for. Maybe the same show, next yea, or something else. Making art with a purpose beyond the making still feels new.
Writing with a purpose: it’s been some time, for that. I used to know how. I was offered a column. I’ve delayed starting it for six weeks already. I’m tired of hesitation.
Getting what you want: it seems to be about asking for it. I wanted a garden. I wanted more light, & better curtains for it to come through. I wanted health insurance. I wanted to be desired. I wanted to fall hard. I wanted a yellow kitchen, a kitchen aid mixer, someone to put their hands on my hips while I did the dishes. I wanted more money. I wanted to go on Friday night dates with whomever I wanted. I wanted to always come home. I wanted to make my own pickles, my own popsicles, someone else’s lunch each morning. I wanted a different schedule. I wanted to make more art, & I wanted to do something with it. I wanted pretty bras. I wanted to love my body fiercely. I wanted to feel grateful every night I fall asleep with her.
These things are mine. I asked for them. Some I made, & some just came.
& now, I want more. I want to write more. I’m asking for it.
wonderful wonderful…I hope you get all the great things you request…and more!
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I got everything I wanted, my perfect family of three. Then I saw babies in the clouds again and knew there was one more thing I needed…. I’m glad you’ve got it all, I hope you get the more as well.
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sometimes, we forget to dream
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Are you really here? Is this really you? It’s been so long that I can’t be sure yet. Please do write more.
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love you
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holy ****.
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Holy moly. I’ve been waiting for a post from you, dearheart. I love tales of your cooking adventures. I want more of this. Oh yes. Missed you.
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many smiles and hugs! so delightful to hear all is well! hope to hear more soon! xxxx,
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i miss you. i still think of you.
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