Last week two events happened for me on the same day. I went to see the Picasso sculpture exhibit that is just opening at MOMA and I watched Serena Williams get throttled on the court. At the Picasso I was amazed at how much inventiveness and experimentation and truthfully just plain fun Picasso must have been having as he bent sheet metal and carved wood. I'm not saying that it's not hard work, but I was amazed that he could bend a fork and it becomes the talons of a bird or h
Last night we were headed to a movie but on our way stumbled upon these festivities instead. Got a jump on the West Indian Day celebrations. Wonderful band at La Caye across the street from BAM. The food looked great too but there was an hour wait! But the beer was cold and the band very cool.
I don't know their name or their names, but it didn't seem to matter. The music kept flowing. The movie will be there tomorrow. The band said they'd be bac
Last night I had a sleepless night. Not that unusual for me but when it happens I'm always surprised. It is as if my mind can't stop moving though my body has. Or at least though it tries to do so. I got my novel in yesterday and can't seem to know what to do with all the energy packed up inside of me. As a friend once described it, I'm like an unemployed samuri, searching for my next mission. I have no idea what to do with my sword. And at the moment I can't think of muc
Yesterday I went with a dear friend to see Audra McDonald in Lady Day at the Emerson Bar and Grill and when this amazing show ended my friend turned to me with tears in her eyes. She said she could not bear the tragedy of Billie Holiday’s life. And I told her that I could not believe the wonder of her gift. It was an odd moment. My friend riddled with sadness and me with admiration and, I’m not going to lie, even a tinge of jealousy.
Don’t we all – well at le
Much to my dismay it is August in New York and I'm finding myself at home. It seems that, for reasons I don't understand, I have no place to go. This year I've been to Thailand, Key West, Hong Kong, Barcelona, Mexico, Chicago, Macau, Red Hook and yet somehow it isn't enough. Why doesn't someone invite me somewhere? Why do I do better in motion? I always have. And yet the artist needs to settle down.
A few years ago Larry and I were heading to Paris for a week's vacation. We hadn't been away in a while and I was feeling rather stuck, in need of change. It was to be a working vacation - as many of ours are. I'd packed my clothes in a wheelie that we'd carry on. But the important things were in my black backpack. My journal, my paints and pencil kit, the book I planned to read (IQ84, I believe), our camera, my meds, my makeup, and several manuscripts of stories and a novel I planne
My husband and daughter are on a long-planned road trip. They are going to run in the Nova Scotia marathon in Barrington, Nova Scotia. They are driving up the coast to Maine, then on to New Brunswick, taking the bridge across to NS. Yesterday late in the day I received this first text from my daughter on the road. "We"ve already lost something." I envisioned credit cards, running shoes, a wheel off the car, something essential to their endeavor, but w
Larry says you're a poem, not a story, but it is your story that draws me in. We saw you when we arrived and now you are here again as if to mark our leaving.
You stand by the wall, peering down, morning after morning - watching the people as they come and go. The parents, taking children to school, lovers who've just tumbled out of bed on their way to work, husbands and
wives, mother going to market, nannies with babies. Dogs.
I'm not sure this post requires any explanation but perhaps a little context. In Thailand our last morning with friends we went early in the morning to give offerings to the monks in exchange for their blessings. Then a few hours later at the airport, leaving Bangkok, we were always blessed - by Ronald McDonald. End of story.
Last week my daughter, Kate,and her boyfriend moved into a new apartment in Red Hook, Brooklyn. It's only a few minutes away, near the water, in a place we love. Her dad and I wanted to help them get settled so we began going through things around the house that we thought they might need or enjoy. Also, full disclosure, we were happy to clean out the basement and her room a little as we move into this next phase of our lives.
It's a rainy Sunday morning as our flight from Barcelona is landing in San Sebastian in Basque Country, the north of Spain. We've been to San Sebastian many times and, in some ways, it is our favorite place to be. We love it water-front city, its food, and its people. We have come to San Sebastian only for the day. We are going to the house of friends for a meal in the country.
We met our friends, Carmen and Josep, the year before when we did a house swap with the
“We travel, initially, to lose ourselves, and we travel, next, to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again—to slow time down and get taken in, and fall in love once more.” Pico Iyer
I love this quote from Pico Iyer. Thanks to Naomi Bishop for sharing it. Here are some recent images from my journeys this past spring. I'll be writing about them more soon. Lots of st
I'm on the flight home from Chicago, and the young girl beside me is singing. I'd been on a research trip where I spent a wonderful day driving around with my cousin Mike, visiting neighborhoods I hadn't been to in half my life, standing in front of my grandmother's apartment building, riding the city's rails, remembering the pavement under my feet.
I was putting the finishing touches on the novel I'd spent the past two decades working on. It seems as if I began it in an
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the sky."
Friends often say they'd like to travel with me, but actually I am a boring travel companion. I don't really to do much of anything. I don't go sightseeing. I don't head out first thing in the morning to capture a sunrise or stand in line to be the first into Pompeii. I've never made it inside the Duomo in Florence.
What I do almost every morning when I am in the road is go to a cafe. And there I sit and write and watch the world go by. I sit with my journal and paints and perhaps
Ithaca When you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long,
full of adventure, full of instruction.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
such as these you will never find
as long as your thought is lofty, as long as a rare
emotion touch your spirit and your body.
The Laistrygonians and the Cyclops,
angry Poseidon - you will not meet them
unless you carry them in your soul,
unless your soul raise
Yesterday I was standing in line at JFK en route to the Canary Islands. I was excited by the trip and had lett myself plenty of time but still the lines were long and slow...and annoying. So I did what most people were doing. Fanned myself with my boarding pass, checked my phone, sighed heavily.
Then I noticed a girl behind me. She's 20 something. Maybe 30. In a yellow sundress and flipflops, blond hair and she's definitely impatient. I can
Last weekend Larry and I were leaving a friend's on Long Island, heading back to Brooklyn. We were running a bit late and Larry needed to get to work. We were reluctant to leave. I'd just had a great swim and Larry was tossing a ball with the dog. We were having a good chat with new friends. And the day was a kind of marker - the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. The end of summer. That feeling one gets every year. Time has passed. A moment for carefree d