Writers who inspire me, distract me from future tripping, help me understand heartache, and give me hope:
Holly Goddard Jones - Her collection of short stories Girl Trouble packed a powerful and lasting punch. I can't wait to read her new novel The Next Time You See Me.
Cheryl Strayed - I have been a longtime fan of the Dear Sugar column, now reading her first novel Torch, and will read Tiny Beautiful Things and Wild ASAP.
Nicole Krauss - The History of Love blew me away, but Great House went to another level. She also has a very generous website with great exerpts.
Jennifer Egan - A Visit From the Goon Squad. I read it last year and still think about it. So ambitious. So successful. Hands down the coolest website. Gives so much insight into her process. Looking forward to diving into her other books.
****
I am excited about the community forming in our building. Last night's jazz event with young, super- talented musicians jamming and improvising for six hours made me feel good about life.
I have returned to freelance consulting, and I am very excited about that. Once again, I am able to decide how to spend my time. Starting to feel more human, less robot.
***
Walking in San Francisco, I mean everywhere, I get excited. Thursday I walked about ten miles. Stopped at Caffe Trieste in North Beach for a cappuccino outside in the 9:00am sun. Continued to the San Francisco Art Institute and walked to the edge of the campus to look out at the Bay, then looked back at the plaza and the theater/outdoor amphitheater. This very spot where so many memories took place, so many powerful scenes in my late teens, then again in my twenties and early thirties when I was a young mother.
I continued to walk down Bay Street, through Fort Mason, the Marina, the SF Yacht Club, to Crissy Field, where I had lunch at the Beach Hut. Then walked to the Palace of Fine Arts and headed straight to the center of the rotunda and stood, looking straight up, and all around. I felt a profound awe.
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In 1988, twenty five years ago at this very time, I was pregnant with Joseph and planning my wedding. I was working in the Financial Aid Office at the Art Institute and Joe was studying painting and printmaking. We decided to get married for two ridiculous reasons: #1: because Joe would get a significant tuition discount and still had two years to graduate; and #2: because I was convinced that after a second child was born there would be no enthusiasm left (for us or our friends) to celebrate our marriage. I was propelled toward marriage by these and more ambiguous reasons, practical and romantic, rightly or wrongly, youthfully, perhaps unwisely, perhaps very wisely.
.JPG)
So we got married. First at San Francisco City Hall with Zoe (18 months) and Heather as our only witnesses. Then, two weeks later, under the rotunda at the Palace of Fine Arts. It was a blustery Friday afternoon. We did everything ourselves with almost no money. We relied heavily on our many friends. Heather baked a layered cake and lent us her red VW convertible to drive up to the rotunda.
We were an hour late to our own wedding, so when we arrived at 6:00pm people had been waiting for over an hour. Everyone was shivering in the Bay gale, all dressed up in velvets and satins with shaved heads and blue hair, standing in a semi-circle, with Konrad and Alea kneeling to hold down the gorgeous 5' tall bouquets of flowers that the wind wanted to scatter across the reflecting pool.
There had been no rehearsal. Ian McColl, who was to step forward and introduce our wordless ceremony, was nowhere to be seen, so Joe stepped forward and made the introduction. Just then Ian ran into the circle, and restated the same introduction. Then, our rings were passed around the semi-circle of our close friends, and we placed them on one another's hands. And then we kissed. That was it! Champagne bottles were opened, and pictures were taken, all candid. No posing. No portraits. Caroline Blaire made a super-8 film of the event, and I still have it somewhere.
Standing in the center of the rotunda thinking about all of this on Thursday, I took a picture and sent it to Joe.
He wrote back: "We've shared so much life together since then...I love you madly!"
Then I kept walking. We are still married. Who knew?
Holly Goddard Jones - Her collection of short stories Girl Trouble packed a powerful and lasting punch. I can't wait to read her new novel The Next Time You See Me.
Cheryl Strayed - I have been a longtime fan of the Dear Sugar column, now reading her first novel Torch, and will read Tiny Beautiful Things and Wild ASAP.
Nicole Krauss - The History of Love blew me away, but Great House went to another level. She also has a very generous website with great exerpts.
Jennifer Egan - A Visit From the Goon Squad. I read it last year and still think about it. So ambitious. So successful. Hands down the coolest website. Gives so much insight into her process. Looking forward to diving into her other books.
****
I am excited about the community forming in our building. Last night's jazz event with young, super- talented musicians jamming and improvising for six hours made me feel good about life.
I have returned to freelance consulting, and I am very excited about that. Once again, I am able to decide how to spend my time. Starting to feel more human, less robot.
***
Walking in San Francisco, I mean everywhere, I get excited. Thursday I walked about ten miles. Stopped at Caffe Trieste in North Beach for a cappuccino outside in the 9:00am sun. Continued to the San Francisco Art Institute and walked to the edge of the campus to look out at the Bay, then looked back at the plaza and the theater/outdoor amphitheater. This very spot where so many memories took place, so many powerful scenes in my late teens, then again in my twenties and early thirties when I was a young mother.
I continued to walk down Bay Street, through Fort Mason, the Marina, the SF Yacht Club, to Crissy Field, where I had lunch at the Beach Hut. Then walked to the Palace of Fine Arts and headed straight to the center of the rotunda and stood, looking straight up, and all around. I felt a profound awe.
In 1988, twenty five years ago at this very time, I was pregnant with Joseph and planning my wedding. I was working in the Financial Aid Office at the Art Institute and Joe was studying painting and printmaking. We decided to get married for two ridiculous reasons: #1: because Joe would get a significant tuition discount and still had two years to graduate; and #2: because I was convinced that after a second child was born there would be no enthusiasm left (for us or our friends) to celebrate our marriage. I was propelled toward marriage by these and more ambiguous reasons, practical and romantic, rightly or wrongly, youthfully, perhaps unwisely, perhaps very wisely.
So we got married. First at San Francisco City Hall with Zoe (18 months) and Heather as our only witnesses. Then, two weeks later, under the rotunda at the Palace of Fine Arts. It was a blustery Friday afternoon. We did everything ourselves with almost no money. We relied heavily on our many friends. Heather baked a layered cake and lent us her red VW convertible to drive up to the rotunda. We were an hour late to our own wedding, so when we arrived at 6:00pm people had been waiting for over an hour. Everyone was shivering in the Bay gale, all dressed up in velvets and satins with shaved heads and blue hair, standing in a semi-circle, with Konrad and Alea kneeling to hold down the gorgeous 5' tall bouquets of flowers that the wind wanted to scatter across the reflecting pool.
There had been no rehearsal. Ian McColl, who was to step forward and introduce our wordless ceremony, was nowhere to be seen, so Joe stepped forward and made the introduction. Just then Ian ran into the circle, and restated the same introduction. Then, our rings were passed around the semi-circle of our close friends, and we placed them on one another's hands. And then we kissed. That was it! Champagne bottles were opened, and pictures were taken, all candid. No posing. No portraits. Caroline Blaire made a super-8 film of the event, and I still have it somewhere.
Standing in the center of the rotunda thinking about all of this on Thursday, I took a picture and sent it to Joe.
He wrote back: "We've shared so much life together since then...I love you madly!"
Then I kept walking. We are still married. Who knew?
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