It's an unexpected day off but it's been raining all morning, that slow, sad drizzle that takes all the life out of morning energy and promise. The edge of the horizon is ringed with black so I see no end in site. Alas no bike ride, no stroll to the laundromat, no neighborhood saunter with camera in hand...
Instead I'm going back through my many obsessive projects and taking stock. I started Daniel Mark Epstein's biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay, "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed" this morning. Being in Upstate New York, it seemed the perfect time and place to dive back into my consistently thwarted ESt.VM project. I was reading Nancy Milford's beautifully penned biography last year and so it seems we've come full circle.
My mother has also made progress on some research about my grandfather, another outside source of interest for my own writing and creative work, so I may dive into that a bit as well.
Even as I child I was never capable of getting bored.
I think I may make myself a juicy caprese salad and read a bit more....
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No matter where in the world you go, theaters are all the same. For an artist on the road, this universal truth is sometimes the only sense of continuity you get...the tune, the lights dimming, the feel of the seat against your back. This is a blog about the performing arts...but it is also about finding home and community in a wayfaring life.
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