Ho-lee Schitt. That was all that ran through my mind as I read this. Ho-lee Schitt.
You're a better man than I am, Charlie Brown.
People here in Portland complain about a lot of things that happen in this city, but the next time I hear anyone bitching about what really amounts to a whole lot of White-privileged nothing, I'm going to forward them this and tell them to read it until their face melts.
They don't know from suffering. By comparison, I live in the Shining Goddamn City on the MOST Beauteous of Fucking Hills. And I love every minute of it. Life is peaceful. Life is serene. Life is NOT people sleeping in their own vomit. It's fucking PARADISE.
I can drive two miles and be in a city park on a hiking trail. I DON'T do that, mind you...but I could if I were so inclined.
You are possessed of a bravery of spirit I couldn't begin to match...and I'm actually pretty OK with that. I've done my time in war zones, so I don't feel like I'm missing out on the weird, wonderful, and life-threatening. Peaceful and serene is more my speed these days, and by comparison, downtown Portland makes Manhattan look like the intersection of Cocksucking Evil and Beknighted Self-Loathing.
I love New York...for purpose of playing tourist, and perhaps we'll meet one day when Erin and I decide to subject ourselves to the beauty New York City has to offer. But living there? Not for all the heroin Bed-Stuy, Sister.
I love your life! I love the fact that you are no longer in a war zone of any kind. A man of your sensibilities should never be subjected to that again. "Peaceful and serene" are lovely. I miss them.
In order for me to truly serve the art, I must be wrested from my ivory tower and thrust into the blender. We'll see what happens. Trust me when I tell you, it's anybody's guess.
You've laid a translucent Vermeer across a muddy, torn Jackson Pollack. There's no better - or worse - place to observe income disparity, nor ever was. Thank you for shining a light. I hope you don't die from it, even if you someday die _in_ it. Hold off awhile. And keep 'em coming.
DAMN, woman, talk about the perfect metaphor! Yes, the middle class has been completely gutted in this city. I mean, I've read about it but until we moved here, I'd never seen it with my own eyes. It's a terrible thing to watch (and experience), and when I fly back to Houston where there is a robust middle class, it's a jarring juxtaposition of opposites.
I couldn't handle NY, even if I could financially afford the attempt. I find myself becoming mildly ill at the thought of trying to navigate some place like St. Louis, or even Chicago (where I actually lived for many years.)
"Becoming mildly ill." YES. I feel that way often these days. It's quite remarkable, actually. I feel mildly ill when we go to court. I feel mildly ill when I go to the doctor. So, yes, my darling Gares, let's not have you galumphing around the city.
I moved to Jersey City, commuting daily to Midtown, last July. You have written exactly what I'm feeling. This place is... a lot. It's a lot. Everything here is a lot.
Ah, Laureen, you TOTALLY get it. Especially Midtown. Don't get me wrong. Midtown is an experience, and I'm almost always open to having one of those, but daaaaaaamn, is it a lot. You nailed that right on the head.
I am really glad to hear from you. And I’m really sorry to hear that re-entry to life in the U.S. has been/continues to be so rough. Please keep on keeping on. Wishing you all the best in the days and weeks to come.
You are so lovely. The constant in all this moving around is me. I still have me. Sure, a little worse for wear, but as long as my brain functions in a reasonable manner, I'm five by five. A lot of what I worry about is American society at large. Quite frankly, it's terrifying, and for a million different reasons.
So glad to hear your voice, so glad your health is better.
Last time I went to NYC was to the Metropolitan Opera and the Cloisters in 2018 before we left the East Coast. It was a haunting experience, after living there in the 80s and spending *a lot* of time there in the 90s.
I am happy in Olympia, Washington now. We have everything we need, and the traffic is so much easier after DC.
And Stacey! I signed a publishing contract with my Tarot deck partner for a mass market edition of her beautiful cards and my amazing book. Schiffer Red Feather will publish the deck and book set in 2025. I am very pleased.
Caroline, that's THRILLING!!!! I can't wait to buy my deck (you're not flexing when you say it's a beautiful Tarot--that's just the objective truth.) I'm so excited! Please let me know when it's out.
Send me your address, dear one. I can mail you a copy of the Kickstarter edition. My deck partner Paula, creator and designer of the deck, has worked in museums all her career, recently retiring from a large federal museum system in the DC and Baltimore area, wink wink. The cards are drawn from fine art, from ancient times to the last Robber Baron age.
Also, John's CD was stolen in the mail when I ordered it, and I'd still love to buy another copy if he's still selling them.
Hugs and blessings. So glad you are enjoying NYC. I found it extremely difficult to live there, except for the opera and museums part.
It was STOLEN????? My God. Do these people have no shame? I'm so so sorry!
John's catching up with old friends, but when he gets home, I'll ask him. And I would welcome anything you want to send me. I think the world of your creative powers!
Yep, the CD never materialized. It was likely a victim of the horrible jackass Louis DeJoy. And things were in such turmoil that I did not want to mention it. No worries.
Oh, wake up to find Stacey Eskelin in my inbox! A dream all its own.
So...I'm not sure I believe you, but I will if you insist. That those who are tired of New York are tired of life, sort of thing. That THAT city injects some sort of life into you, when, in your last few words you tell us that it may also kill you. Sure, but so would the passing of time in Amelia because it's the passing of time that gets us. Your attachment to life, in the meantime, wherever you might find yourself, means that you would let all its particulars flow in, get absorbed, examined, assembled into a vital montage, then flow out again in the form of your fine words. There's respiration. There's blood pumping in your veins and arteries. Then there's the electric, synaptic you, and then there are the circuits of the well-informed imagination, which is what we lucky folk get to read, no matter the place where your hat hangs.
Ah, Vian. Your seductive, riveting wordsmithing was sorely missed. Yeah, it's been a butt-muncher of a year, but that which does not kill you, blahblahblah. I am doing exactly what you described: letting all [life's] particulars flow in, get absorbed, examined, and assembled. I am a human solar panel. That's my purpose. And yours is CLEARLY to beguile me with your prose.
And so very sorry to hear about your mother's passing, not to mention your own increasing familiarity with NYC's hospitals and courtrooms. (You didn't say explicitly about whether you have anything to worry about health-wise; I'm hoping that answer is "no.")
I love MOMA (and just as strongly "dislike" the Met).
If you decide you've had enough of being always on, and are ready to re-embrace La Dolce Vita, I know a place in Spello that would love to have you.
Love that spiffy new moniker! And not to worry. What I have doesn't appear to be the-C-word-that-doesn't-rhyme-with-"bunt." I'll have a better understanding, perhaps, this Wednesday when I talk to my doctor. Hey, this is what getting older looks like. I'm on a learning curve.
You would barf if you knew what the Met has been up to these days. They have some idiot nepo baby running the show over there, and it's not exaggeration to say this person is doing a shockingly bad job.
Ho-lee Schitt. That was all that ran through my mind as I read this. Ho-lee Schitt.
You're a better man than I am, Charlie Brown.
People here in Portland complain about a lot of things that happen in this city, but the next time I hear anyone bitching about what really amounts to a whole lot of White-privileged nothing, I'm going to forward them this and tell them to read it until their face melts.
They don't know from suffering. By comparison, I live in the Shining Goddamn City on the MOST Beauteous of Fucking Hills. And I love every minute of it. Life is peaceful. Life is serene. Life is NOT people sleeping in their own vomit. It's fucking PARADISE.
I can drive two miles and be in a city park on a hiking trail. I DON'T do that, mind you...but I could if I were so inclined.
You are possessed of a bravery of spirit I couldn't begin to match...and I'm actually pretty OK with that. I've done my time in war zones, so I don't feel like I'm missing out on the weird, wonderful, and life-threatening. Peaceful and serene is more my speed these days, and by comparison, downtown Portland makes Manhattan look like the intersection of Cocksucking Evil and Beknighted Self-Loathing.
I love New York...for purpose of playing tourist, and perhaps we'll meet one day when Erin and I decide to subject ourselves to the beauty New York City has to offer. But living there? Not for all the heroin Bed-Stuy, Sister.
Ho-lee Schitt.
I love your life! I love the fact that you are no longer in a war zone of any kind. A man of your sensibilities should never be subjected to that again. "Peaceful and serene" are lovely. I miss them.
In order for me to truly serve the art, I must be wrested from my ivory tower and thrust into the blender. We'll see what happens. Trust me when I tell you, it's anybody's guess.
You've laid a translucent Vermeer across a muddy, torn Jackson Pollack. There's no better - or worse - place to observe income disparity, nor ever was. Thank you for shining a light. I hope you don't die from it, even if you someday die _in_ it. Hold off awhile. And keep 'em coming.
DAMN, woman, talk about the perfect metaphor! Yes, the middle class has been completely gutted in this city. I mean, I've read about it but until we moved here, I'd never seen it with my own eyes. It's a terrible thing to watch (and experience), and when I fly back to Houston where there is a robust middle class, it's a jarring juxtaposition of opposites.
I couldn't handle NY, even if I could financially afford the attempt. I find myself becoming mildly ill at the thought of trying to navigate some place like St. Louis, or even Chicago (where I actually lived for many years.)
"Becoming mildly ill." YES. I feel that way often these days. It's quite remarkable, actually. I feel mildly ill when we go to court. I feel mildly ill when I go to the doctor. So, yes, my darling Gares, let's not have you galumphing around the city.
I moved to Jersey City, commuting daily to Midtown, last July. You have written exactly what I'm feeling. This place is... a lot. It's a lot. Everything here is a lot.
Ah, Laureen, you TOTALLY get it. Especially Midtown. Don't get me wrong. Midtown is an experience, and I'm almost always open to having one of those, but daaaaaaamn, is it a lot. You nailed that right on the head.
Manhattan has just gotten out of the realm of real people. Surprised you're not in Brooklyn or even here in the 6th borough, Philly.
Philly IS the sixth borough! That's fabulous.
I am really glad to hear from you. And I’m really sorry to hear that re-entry to life in the U.S. has been/continues to be so rough. Please keep on keeping on. Wishing you all the best in the days and weeks to come.
You are so lovely. The constant in all this moving around is me. I still have me. Sure, a little worse for wear, but as long as my brain functions in a reasonable manner, I'm five by five. A lot of what I worry about is American society at large. Quite frankly, it's terrifying, and for a million different reasons.
Sadly, though I live in Italy now, I am still acutely aware of how terrifying a state my home country is in. It is never far from my mind.
So glad to hear your voice, so glad your health is better.
Last time I went to NYC was to the Metropolitan Opera and the Cloisters in 2018 before we left the East Coast. It was a haunting experience, after living there in the 80s and spending *a lot* of time there in the 90s.
I am happy in Olympia, Washington now. We have everything we need, and the traffic is so much easier after DC.
And Stacey! I signed a publishing contract with my Tarot deck partner for a mass market edition of her beautiful cards and my amazing book. Schiffer Red Feather will publish the deck and book set in 2025. I am very pleased.
Love and blessings
Caroline, that's THRILLING!!!! I can't wait to buy my deck (you're not flexing when you say it's a beautiful Tarot--that's just the objective truth.) I'm so excited! Please let me know when it's out.
Send me your address, dear one. I can mail you a copy of the Kickstarter edition. My deck partner Paula, creator and designer of the deck, has worked in museums all her career, recently retiring from a large federal museum system in the DC and Baltimore area, wink wink. The cards are drawn from fine art, from ancient times to the last Robber Baron age.
Also, John's CD was stolen in the mail when I ordered it, and I'd still love to buy another copy if he's still selling them.
Hugs and blessings. So glad you are enjoying NYC. I found it extremely difficult to live there, except for the opera and museums part.
It was STOLEN????? My God. Do these people have no shame? I'm so so sorry!
John's catching up with old friends, but when he gets home, I'll ask him. And I would welcome anything you want to send me. I think the world of your creative powers!
Thank you greatly.
please email me your address to mythkenner@aol.com
Yep, the CD never materialized. It was likely a victim of the horrible jackass Louis DeJoy. And things were in such turmoil that I did not want to mention it. No worries.
Oh, wake up to find Stacey Eskelin in my inbox! A dream all its own.
So...I'm not sure I believe you, but I will if you insist. That those who are tired of New York are tired of life, sort of thing. That THAT city injects some sort of life into you, when, in your last few words you tell us that it may also kill you. Sure, but so would the passing of time in Amelia because it's the passing of time that gets us. Your attachment to life, in the meantime, wherever you might find yourself, means that you would let all its particulars flow in, get absorbed, examined, assembled into a vital montage, then flow out again in the form of your fine words. There's respiration. There's blood pumping in your veins and arteries. Then there's the electric, synaptic you, and then there are the circuits of the well-informed imagination, which is what we lucky folk get to read, no matter the place where your hat hangs.
Ah, Vian. Your seductive, riveting wordsmithing was sorely missed. Yeah, it's been a butt-muncher of a year, but that which does not kill you, blahblahblah. I am doing exactly what you described: letting all [life's] particulars flow in, get absorbed, examined, and assembled. I am a human solar panel. That's my purpose. And yours is CLEARLY to beguile me with your prose.
So great to hear from you, Stacey.
And so very sorry to hear about your mother's passing, not to mention your own increasing familiarity with NYC's hospitals and courtrooms. (You didn't say explicitly about whether you have anything to worry about health-wise; I'm hoping that answer is "no.")
I love MOMA (and just as strongly "dislike" the Met).
If you decide you've had enough of being always on, and are ready to re-embrace La Dolce Vita, I know a place in Spello that would love to have you.
Love that spiffy new moniker! And not to worry. What I have doesn't appear to be the-C-word-that-doesn't-rhyme-with-"bunt." I'll have a better understanding, perhaps, this Wednesday when I talk to my doctor. Hey, this is what getting older looks like. I'm on a learning curve.
You would barf if you knew what the Met has been up to these days. They have some idiot nepo baby running the show over there, and it's not exaggeration to say this person is doing a shockingly bad job.
Spello....you're killing me!