Ok, so I was a bit freaked out in my last post, but now I’m really starting to enjoy the Simple Life. Here are some of my favorite experiences so far, in pictures…
The country can be pretty wicked, I must admit.
Hunh, I just wrote this whole post and then when I published it it was blank. What’s up with that? WordPress gods swoop down into the country and save me. That’s a command. Not being heeded it seems.
Nevermind, I will just have to start over. My last post was about how strange it is to be in the country. It’s like the polar opposite of my actual everyday life. Rather than dance parties, there is a local brasserie with live harp music tonight. Instead of constant speed, chatter, noise, vibrancy, there is just silence, interrupted by the occasional lawnmower or bird song.
This location is bringing out the chef in me though, soon this is going to morph into a recipe blog, but not yet. I’m holding out, remembering the days of social activity and not letting that woman at the garage sale call me a mom, and get away with it. She really did, it must be the mini-van that I’m driving. Not mine of course, part of the house sitting bundle, I even feel weird using it though, it’s funny, I feel like Where would I go? and Isn’t it a waste of energy to drive? Definitely not a middle of American, surely guilty as charged, I’m a City Folk.
I tried buying baubles at a antique shop and watching hummingbirds and little caterpillars. Actually, these acts were all fun, but I had a visceral feeling of being out of place. Am I allowed to sit around and do nothing but enjoy being alive? That is so faux pas in NYC, let’s face it. Running around, being creative, or trying to make money, or be smart or whatever, that’s kinda the flow in the shitty isn’t it. It’s ok to say yes.
I say this not disparagingly. I miss the place like really a lot. Seriously though, I am even beginning to long for the invasions of space and the irritating little noises and disturbances. They come with vitality, expression — Life. I miss Brooklyn.
So I am away, couldn’t take anymore NYC, had to get away! No, it’s not really that, I love Brooklyn, but I am doing some dog sitting in upstate New York. I am alone with 2 sweet dogs, in the country, resting, reading, eating well. My gosh I don’t even feel like an undernourished city hipster/starving artist- almost. That’s where I’m at right now! I will be back soon and in the meantime I have a few books to report back on, plus the catalogue of things I’ve been meaning to talk about. Stand by. feel the love-the storm is passing and thank God.
Hey loves, more VU pictures. I promise you words tomorrow, had a bit of a busy day today. It seems that when every one else is sleeping I’m awake, and when everyone else is on vaycay, I’m working! Ah, such is life, rent day comes as often as the full moon. Speak soon!
So even socialites eventually need a rest, and maybe even a moment away from Brooklyn. Family called and I have found myself in Connecticut, by a lake being pulled into Bridge games and getting email flack from NY which I’d prefer to ignore. The lake is beautiful, I need to rest my head.
I thought I’d take this opportunity to briefly discuss a book I’ve recently read called Live Through This: On Creativity and Self-destruction Yes, even the very act of reading has become work. Books are assigned to me for review or I solicit them for potential review. Live Though This kind of falls into that second category. My relationship with it remains unclear… but…
Content is all that really matters right? So lets get into it. This book in an anthology of women writers who have experienced abuse, mental illness, self-injuring, basically some form of pain that could have stopped them from creating and maybe instead catalysed them to start or continue to make art. Nicole Blackman, Fly, Bell Hooks, Cristy C. Roads, Daphne Gotlieb, Eileen Myles, Nan Goldin, Patricia Smith, countless women seem to swell the ranks of survival literature, poetry of the oppressed, struggle till it gets better penmanship. To be honest, I don’t know quite what to make of it. I like many of the contributors, and spoke for a bit with the editor, still I guess I feel this crumbling sensation that perhaps past suffering is not what brings these writers together- what it is I reckon is talent, consistent vision and just general ability to kick ass.
Besides my qualms with the premise, I definitely dug some of the submissions, especially Fly and some of the other names I’ve mentioned above.