The Way You Wish You Could Live In The Storm

I was traveling for six days - Boston, New York - cars, buses, trains. Little sleep, movies, late dinners, rivers. Let's have a song.



I'm exhausted, sick. My system always falls apart after whirlwind trips.

I haven't seen Noel in ten years, and have only spoken briefly, over email. We met when I was seventeen, he was twenty-one, at a party somewhere, the middle of the years when I was hellbent & a spiraling little oblivion. Noel was always kind to me. We didn't really stay in touch after that summer. So when we met for lunch, in New York, it was wonderful to find that 10 years later, he is as lovely and interesting as I'd remembered. Noel's a painter. You can see some of his work here

I went out to Brooklyn to see Angelica, also a painter, who I studied theater with at Syracuse. We sat in her garden, drank strong coffee, talked and talked and talked. Angie is, I think, the strongest female I know, in all ways. She welcomed me into her studio-- I hadn't seen her larger paintings. I was speechless.


Angelica, talking about her work

It's beautiful to see that the people I hold dear, who I am bound to in one way or another, have committed themselves to the act of making in the same way I have - that they've given making a space in their lives, a central space. Carry on, chickadees, carry on.