POET | PLAYWRIGHT | TEACHING ARTIST
The more difficult things become – subjectively – the more I want to make beautiful things, and the more frustrated I become with my lagging craftsmanship. I spend evenings in the studio staring at the paper. Judging. I should have invested more time here. Been patient with myself. I understand now the absurdity of impatience.…
A difficult night last night. Three a.m. text messages are never good news. Even when the news is edged with hope: a turn for the better, an “it could be much worse”. It’s not the knowing that all things are impermanent that is comfort, it’s the acceptance of this. And I am forced to redefine…