Readers, hello. Come with me down the hallway of my interior library. Here, a photo of my grandparents Florentina & Manuel. There, some chairs with needlepoint footstools pointing toward long windows through which you can see moonlit seascapes. Look beyond the waves and a little up and to the left. Jupiter, and a slice of silver moon. To your right, my green gate and the spring smokebush. While I sleep, worlds of ideas swell and crash. Thunder booms, rains fall. My flat file rearranged its contents seemingly by itself. Meanwhile, in the topside world it is hot, and summer has come to call in March here in Los Angeles. Awful things are unfolding across the planet, but I am still pleased to be here in this world, in this life.
I’m painting Paris buildings because I saw Jennifer Orkin Lewis’ Paris sketchbook and it was magnificent. I’m painting big ones and little ones and ones on small canvas boards, and I can’t be bothered to take pics of everything, but they’re on my display shelves. I’m making self-portraits and other portraits and cutting them out like paper-doll heads. Painting birds, cutting them out, sticking them to the walls. Meeting with my art & life people regularly.
I joined a small gym and am working out with a very small group of middle-aged mammals and one very nice trainer twice a week. This came about very serendipitously via an invitation from a random person at the pool.
I’m still lost in a world of Barbara Pym and can’t seem to tear myself away.
A sliver of poetry for you.
A Brief for the Defense
by Jack Gilbert
(an excerpt)
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.
I’m offering Full Tilt Boogie free to those who are interested in visiting or revisiting. Leave a comment if interested. Available for the next week or so, and good until June 1st, so you have time to make things. Alas, I can provide no help with questions anymore as I can’t remember the answers! It’s one of my oldest classes and I haven’t bothered to review the videos or remove anything cringe-worthy from them. So if I say or do anything stupid, feel free NOT to let me know. I was just a kid when I made it. I’m still a kid, but my hands and neck are wrinklier than they used to be!
