Behind a very beautiful corrugated wall of perforated aluminum in my downstairs family/entertainment room are shelves and shelves of ‘stuff.’ Blankets and books. Assorted theatrical lighting accumulated from my husband’s days as an interior designer. Suitcases and a toolbox or two. A classic … [Read more...] about Divesting
12/31/12: On the Edge
There invariably comes a moment at a Leonard Cohen concert when singer/songwriter gives way to pure poet. The softer he speaks, the more closely you listen. It’s a marvel to me, hearing echoes of a song I love, words that were their own music before they would become a song. If the achingly … [Read more...] about 12/31/12: On the Edge
12/12/12: You say it’s your birthday . . .
What tools do we use? One only. It’s called attention. --Charlotte Joko Beck Monday, December 10th. A dreary morning, the sky gray and spongy, an invitation to head out for a walk, into the mist. A good pace (coupled with … [Read more...] about 12/12/12: You say it’s your birthday . . .
Highbrow/Lowbrow/Nobrow
Last year for my birthday my daughter bought me a scarf. Pretty as it was, this gift came with a little zing, a point to be made. The scarf (a Missoni design) was a Target 'original', part of its upscale designer collections. I admit it, there’s something in me that resists the commodification … [Read more...] about Highbrow/Lowbrow/Nobrow
Fortune
Three Fortune cookies, still in their cellophane wrappers, sit in a bowl on the center island of my kitchen, remnants from last night's take-out. If I wait for the right moment, I figure, one of them will beckon: crack me open, see what I have to offer. It's not the taste of the cookie that ever … [Read more...] about Fortune
After the funeral . . .
. . . I go for a walk. The lure of mid-afternoon autumn light – even more gold and crisp through the filter of magnificent white clouds – is all I need. Or so it would seem. I settle my eyes on the clouds, anything but diminished by the sweep of cliché (cotton the queen of them all). Magnificent … [Read more...] about After the funeral . . .
