POET | PLAYWRIGHT | TEACHING ARTIST
Monday morning and nothing is exactly as I’d want it to be. And that is fine, really. I take a deep breath and am grateful for the coffee. I spent this weekend with kind people whom I haven’t seen in years. And people I’ve never met. I have moved a half-hour train ride away and…
It is still dark when I rise in the mornings. But the sun rises while I walk Leonard around the block. It is nice. But we change the clocks this weekend. We gain another hour of darkness. And every year around this time I remind myself not to let myself get too hopeful about the…
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.…
You can’t wander into a flow if you never begin moving. I’ve begun thinking in terms of platitudes, I’m afraid. It is probably time for another break from social media. There’s never enough time in the day – and that has to be a matter of structure and attention, not time. A matter of pulling…
It is always stupid for me to write about or talk about process. In fact, I am convinced it’s a form of self-sabotage. It’s the final step of a creative project, where I cut myself off at the knees and go back to a safe place. It’s when the oxpecker shows up and pecks me…