This morning for the first time in a long time, I turned the radio dial to WFUV and listened to music instead of the news reports and shows on WNYC. It felt so good. I was dancing in the kitchen. … Continue reading
Another Saturday. Sometimes it feels as if all the other days are just pages being flipped though – not that the weekend is really any different. My every day is full of coffee drinking, dog-walking, attempting to write. I’ve been … Continue reading
It’s the end of my second week here at my mother’s house, on Long Island. I’ve been taking it easy, riding my bike, sitting out in the yard under the big trees, taking Gem for long walks into town. It’s … Continue reading
Memorial Day. I write a dark poem and send it to my mother and sister (we are writing poems each day, sending them to one another). As my mood darkens, I grow restless with intolerance, monstrous with impatience, defeating the … Continue reading
Saturday morning. Everything is blooming. Week two or three? Spring arrives in the midst of a plague. For the first time, the streets were empty when I took Gem out for her walk. People in NYC have been slow to … Continue reading
What to say about this time? Trump, climate catastrophe, and Covid19? It feels like a movie, unreal. In Lars Von Trier’s film about the end of the world, Melancholia, the character played by Kristin Dunst, the depressed character – the … Continue reading
First day of the new year, or New Year’s Day. Helicopters bring tourists from New Jersey for a fly-by over Central Park and the buildings of my East Side neighborhood, making it sound as if this is a war zone, … Continue reading
Last night I dreamed I had a daughter. She was playing in a park and I needed to find her. The feeling I had was similar to dreams I’ve had of trying to keep my animals safe. In Olga Tokarczuk’s … Continue reading
I’m not sure how to begin. Like many, I’ve been in a strange place lately, but maybe that’s when you turn to strangers. There is just so much you can ask from your friends. So, here I am. What I’ve … Continue reading
I read an essay by the writer Meghan Daum the other day. After living in California and being married and divorced, Daum returned to Manhattan and resumed a similar, if not identical, life to the one she had lived twenty … Continue reading