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day 670: art + wanting

Part I: art

Alison took the train up all the way from Philly to Hudson to visit. She’s 20 weeks pregnant, and for the first time. Sweeny says she’s glowing and he’s right. She’s painting a mural on my wall; something Sandra Cisneros wrote once about the reasons we make art. We shimmied the windows open and we’re focused on our choices here. We’re determined. We put on a movie and I fall asleep and I’m glad because it’s better to hear her tell it the next day as we walk down alleyways to get some tea.

She posts a picture on Facebook and Birdie comments, “yeah we do.” She’s on the phone; she and Jaron are buying a house and they’re putting in an offer. I’m sitting on the couch thinking about death. I’m listening to a tambourine and upright bass. Ira Gitler wrote the liner notes and Van Gelder recorded. I took a picture of my front steps for the first time today – I’m in a Van Vleck apartment building and it’s about to be spring. I make lists in the morning when I meditate, and I’m thankful for it all.


Part II: wanting

I tell Alison I feel an urgency to the creative process. I’m wildly in love with people creating. I’m sitting in a basement in Brooklyn and I can hear bands practicing around me. Two different ones – a bass playing 8ths with drums coming in to my side, a synth organ dialing in a sound that shakes the snares in the live room behind me. The first time I came down here I was visiting Dev at his new studio. I’d gotten my very first speeding ticket on the drive down and felt terrible. Devin sat on the Leslie speaker and told me about a time he got a ticket upstate and didn’t pay it and hadn’t thought about it in a while, but maybe he should now? I left that day feeling safe. That day was years ago now.

But we’re here. I am here. I want to stay here until the day I go, and I want to leave with grace. I want to look you in the eye without fear or expectation; because I see you with love. I want you to know that you are loved, because it’s true. We make it true, you and me, and if you forget I’ll remember. Pinky swear kiss your thumb – I promise.

Om Gum Shrim Maha Lakshmiyei Swaha

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