i am awake and alone inside a silent house. the light is beautiful and i had no bad dreams.
i booked a room at The Jane in new york for a few days in mid october before heading up to Montreal and then back down to Vermont for the residency. less than 2 weeks now until i board my plane. last week, i was full of excited anxiety and it was incredibly hard to go to work. this week, i'm calm. i'm trying not to think about it much, only in terms of what needs to be handled before i leave my life here in Oakland for 6 weeks- the packages that need to be shipped, the day i'll need to spend at the DMV replacing my lost driver's license, bill payments that need to be scheduled, etc etc. when i start thinking about anything beyond these types of regular responsibilities, my blood runs too hot too quickly and i return to that semi-afraid state of elation that finds me so easily at the mere mention of travel.
but this is more than travel. this is Time. it's been years since i've had the time to just curl up with a book for three days straight if i want to. it's been years since i've had the time to curl up with a drawing for three days straight if i want to. it's been years since i've been surrounded by other artists on a daily basis. not since art school. and i'll tell ya, hanging out with other artists is what i miss most about that experience. it's one of the things i'm looking forward to most about going to this residency. i'll be one of 50 artists and writers. i'm so excited for the conversations that we're going to have.
i've been reading Keith Haring's journals the last few days and his descriptions of art school, going to painting class and poetry readings, putting together shows, and his own ideas about his practice are so intoxicating. i revel in it. i turn the pages hungrily, grateful for each word and insight. i'm comforted by his texts, so full of casual language. that's how i write in my diary. i am no Anais Nin. my eloquence finds me after a flood of slang and swear words. i've always sort of felt bad that my diary is not a place of eloquence. until now. perhaps the eloquence is simply of a different variety? perhaps my aims are totally different, totally my own. i'm looking forward to traveling with Keith Haring's diary pressed against mine, two of the best travel companions i can think of. i'm looking forward to walking around new york city and seeing the places he describes in these pages. those that are still there. i'm looking forward to going to the Guggenheim for the first time and central park. funny i've yet to do such quintessentially new york things on past visits.
but there i go dreaming. :)
it's important to me to stay put in The Present the next 13 days. i don't want to slide off into reverie just yet. i want the realities that surround me. i want to enjoy the peace and quiet of a slow morning at home before work. i want to enjoy the sounds of the street and the screech of the train. i want to enjoy walking in to a neighborhood bar at midnight after a long day at work and seeing my lover sitting on a bar stool waiting for me. i want to see him turn and smile at me. i want to hold his face in my hands and kiss it. and i want to stay in that moment. i want to laugh with him. i want to laugh with my friends and fellow waiters and roommates. i want to enjoy every single thing about the simple goodness of my life right this second and not slip off in to dreams. the future will find me. i am creating it. there is no need today to loll inside such images. there is a need, instead, to be gratefully happy for the day i'm standing in.
i am a very lucky girl.
these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.
thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.
my artist website is here.
my artist website is here.