While working on this newsletter the past few years, I haven't found something that really works to do on a consistent schedule, but this practice is looking like it could yield a certain regularity. Writing five things every day means 15 or 20 paragraphs or sets of paragraphs that I can sit down and work with, work through. I often feel like I'm not really writing anything when I sit down to do the exercise each day, but then at the end, something does accumulate.
I am right there with you, wishing for the resources for heavy velvet curtains and lifetime guarantees and a trip somewhere- both the time to do it and the money to afford it. I wish we could all have those things. Thanks for writing it so beautiful.
I find this entry searingly relatable and, because of my personal history, I really wish I didn't. But I also found it to be beautifully written and well observed. Thank you.
There is a pub in Philadelphia that has velvet (like?) curtains from ceiling to floor that surround the door. To keep the cold out. On the day of my visit w a friend and my two year old grand, the curtains were rolled and bunched and just sort of hung above floor level. Cynthia insisted on running to them and hugging them over and over.
In the seventies my sister and I had velveteen sweaters with knit neck and wristbands, and mine was midnight blue. I kept wearing it in my late teens even though it was a 12 year old sizing. Then one day I accidentally left it in a second hand clothes shop. Pouf! But I still remember its inky blueness.
The only remedy for not having space for these luxurious entities is to visit galleries or shops that do have them and say hello sometimes. Failing that, keep them in your mind, that palace of textures and vibrations.
Such beauty and longing in this essay ... I want to weep. I have a purple velvet tunic. Whenever I wore it to work, someone would always ask if they could stroke my arm. When I wear it, it’s hard not to constantly hug myself.
I too am in love with velvet right now and just bought a velvet couch. I had been wanting it for awhile and saved to buy it. I miss easy travel right now and feel the draw to escape. Traveling as a single female can be thrilling and feels like breaking the rules. I love doing it as I feel like I can finally relax that way. I am loving the new posts and the snippets into your world.
Shoot this all in my veins...all this, what?...striving. Reaching. Longing. In the lack thereof, isn't it where a little hope dies? May we always want. More.
(who was it who said "life seeks more life"?)
I just wrote my first collection of short "studies" titled "fed" - about the ways in which we are denied (or deny ourselves) nourishment; physically, emotionally, spiritually.
And every garment of clothing I own has fallen to dust over the last four years.
While working on this newsletter the past few years, I haven't found something that really works to do on a consistent schedule, but this practice is looking like it could yield a certain regularity. Writing five things every day means 15 or 20 paragraphs or sets of paragraphs that I can sit down and work with, work through. I often feel like I'm not really writing anything when I sit down to do the exercise each day, but then at the end, something does accumulate.
Wonderful piece - very thought-provoking; thank you.
Restless as the sea;
Feathering the nest -
laudable goals,
seeking the finest;
The wilderness awaits,
quietly insistent.
“All serious daring starts from within.”
(Eudora Welty)
I am right there with you, wishing for the resources for heavy velvet curtains and lifetime guarantees and a trip somewhere- both the time to do it and the money to afford it. I wish we could all have those things. Thanks for writing it so beautiful.
Well that was wonderful. The imagery of your lack and the window was exquisite 😍
I find this entry searingly relatable and, because of my personal history, I really wish I didn't. But I also found it to be beautifully written and well observed. Thank you.
There is a pub in Philadelphia that has velvet (like?) curtains from ceiling to floor that surround the door. To keep the cold out. On the day of my visit w a friend and my two year old grand, the curtains were rolled and bunched and just sort of hung above floor level. Cynthia insisted on running to them and hugging them over and over.
found you on Post, where i found a couple of writers i seem to inhale. thought about subscribing but did not til now. really enjoyed this, ty.
In the seventies my sister and I had velveteen sweaters with knit neck and wristbands, and mine was midnight blue. I kept wearing it in my late teens even though it was a 12 year old sizing. Then one day I accidentally left it in a second hand clothes shop. Pouf! But I still remember its inky blueness.
The only remedy for not having space for these luxurious entities is to visit galleries or shops that do have them and say hello sometimes. Failing that, keep them in your mind, that palace of textures and vibrations.
Really, really fine bit of note booking Summer.
Such beauty and longing in this essay ... I want to weep. I have a purple velvet tunic. Whenever I wore it to work, someone would always ask if they could stroke my arm. When I wear it, it’s hard not to constantly hug myself.
I too am in love with velvet right now and just bought a velvet couch. I had been wanting it for awhile and saved to buy it. I miss easy travel right now and feel the draw to escape. Traveling as a single female can be thrilling and feels like breaking the rules. I love doing it as I feel like I can finally relax that way. I am loving the new posts and the snippets into your world.
Shoot this all in my veins...all this, what?...striving. Reaching. Longing. In the lack thereof, isn't it where a little hope dies? May we always want. More.
(who was it who said "life seeks more life"?)
I just wrote my first collection of short "studies" titled "fed" - about the ways in which we are denied (or deny ourselves) nourishment; physically, emotionally, spiritually.
And every garment of clothing I own has fallen to dust over the last four years.
❤️