Little Water Song
My hair is on fire, but thankfully not like that time I leaned over a candle to better hear someone in a restaurant. That fire, I could just pat out.
It’s exhilarating to have every second of my time suddenly accounted for, between my new school work and freelance web developering. I don’t think I’ve ever had so many trains of thought going at once, and it’s just started. One moment, I’m trying to figure out what to right, or what needs to be read next (a very order-of-operations prioritization) and the next I’m falling asleep and being haunted awake at the last minute by some annoying bit of code I need to enhance to handle some unforeseen condition, and the best way to write it.
Throw in estimated taxes, a friend’s wedding, trips out of town, trips across town, and the totally new budget (so long cable, hello bit torrent) my brain is just chock full o’nuts.
I almost wrote something yesterday, since my current gig has me working about two blocks from Ground Zero, to comment on the extraordinary quiet of the streets in the morning, how they were fully lined with emergency vehicles, EMTs, firemen, police, and mourners. I’d never seen New Yorkers walk so slow. Inside Champ’s Deli were more cops, more personnel, but also the familiar baritone dispatch of breakfast short orders. “Manny, gimme a toasted English!”
I spent the weekend in Naples, FL for my grandmother’s 80th birthday, getting hugged, fed, and slipped hundred-dollar bills by my godfather. For years we’d begged my grandmother to compile all her writing. She finally did, and had it printed and bound. It’s amazing to get to know her on this level, and to read everything she’d written from 6th grade to recent years. Her high school newspaper, her work for 20 years with women in prison, hilarious accounts of Bobby Short getting freaky in a hot-tub, her thoughts on God.
Friday night I saw Romance and Cigarettes at the Film Forum, and afterwards the director John Turturro did a little Q&A. He was great. The music aspect is that it’s not so much a musical, as that characters have their own personal soundtracks. It was real, crude, funny and understandable. Once it slipped into the realm of a Walter Middy oppression complex, but mostly I found it poignant. If I describe more it will give too much away, and I don’t want to take the experience from anyone. The soundtrack was overwhelming to me, so much music. Go see this movie.
Congrats. Now BREATHE!
Glad you’re updating this again. Hope you can squeeze a lunch or coffee in with me sometime soon.
haha yes! *pant pant pant*
All I want is to curl up and read all day. Figure out what I’m writing. That’s my idea of heaven. Also, that it rains money and peonies. mmmmm
David, I think you might have to just get swept up in my whirlwind and come to some readings with me :]
http://www.writing.newschool.edu/08_events.aspx?s=5Check out Oct 4th, readings from The Apocalypse Reader (shelley jackson!) But yeah, I really hope to grab lunch or coffee before then. I feel like I should set up a web cam where I just wave to my friends…
hmm, that would help with costs.... anyone have a “watching a girl read or write” fetish?
I think there are people with that fetish. I think I’m one of them.
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