In the past few months, I have spoken to more than a few friends who either are not on social media or recently gave it up, and who therefore come and visit my blog for updates! Thank you, awesome friends! I will make an effort to keep this more populated and updated:)
Below is a Sunday afternoon sketch of my place, as it just seemed right to play it fast and loose on a rainy Sabbath in Brooklyn. My mannequin is named Dorothea after one of my favorite heroines, from George Eliot's "Middlemarch." Despite her benign name and frame, which was molded in a warehouse in New Jersey, the poor and earnest Dorothea tends to freak out visitors. A painting in the background is of a geisha in a kimono as well. Poetry on the fridge, lots of tchotchkes on the shelves and classical philosophy books too, from an earlier time when ancient Greek comprised the entirety of my life.
One of the poems on the fridge:
"Waking Up" by Jorge Luis Borges
Translated, from the Spanish, by Alastair Reid.
Daylight leaks in, and sluggishly I surface
from my own dreams into the common dream
and things assume again their proper places
and their accustomed shapes. Into this present
the Past intrudes, in all its dizzying range–
the centuries-old habits of migration
in birds and men, the armies in their legions
all fallen to the sword, and Rome and Carthage.
The trappings of my day also come back:
my voice, my face, my nervousness, my luck.
If only Death, that other waking-up,
would grant me a time free of all memory
of my own name and all that I have been!
If only morning meant oblivion!