Bohemian nights in Valencia where the gypsies shred violins into the coming dark "Rhythmic swells reverberate trough my lungs. The back streets of Valencia. Back street Europe. Romani enclaves and gypsy parts of town. We'll sit here in the Plaça de la Virgen with our stiff sangria, smartly bashful in red-faced delerium. For it is Spring and the blossoms have begun to sing. A nod to blanco nerium" A poem to the City of Oranges. An Open Love Letter to the City of Valencia, Spain.
On the art of journaling, note taking, and recording the world around you. These are my favorite notebooks for daily musings and painting.
Confessions of an Antisocial Writer. Cafes? Don't do it. For he love of all things Didion! I mean, I get it, there is this undeniable sex appeal. This intrique: scattering your notes across that old bistro set, the heady demitasse begging for your lips: what's the WiFi code? Nah, I write longhand.
I'm not here to pretend to be some guru or act like I know anymore than you do because, believe me, the older I get, the less I know. Funny how that works when the world is running wild with "twenty-somethings" peddling Nirvana and life-coaching: really just give me $99 and I promise you'll feel better. Go ahead, try it.
"My sudden love of these two women came into existance upon two separate planes of thought Like a split in the multiverse that is the self. Shay. Shay is stability. Comfort. Success. Whereas Ingrid. Ingrid claims the part of me which belongs to the world. A manifestation of my desire to roam freely and simply be. But, I know in my heart of hearts these two worlds can not coexist. For they, separately, are everything. Yet together, in the folds of life, they cancel each other out." --In Another Country
I mean, it's not cheating if nothing happens. Oh, but emotions run deep. Which begs the question: What’s worse, an emotional or a physical affair?
Excerpt from The Outsider: A Memoir? "The sky out my window is that fiery red which makes the heart swell with life and there it is again: that sensational expanding within my chest, rising to my throat, gripping and stinging my eyes."
*unedited from rough draft (The Outsider: A Novel) I woke up one morning in a state of complete despair and found myself debating the absurdity of carrying on like this when I had options. They were clear as day and night and manifest out of who-knows-where: One, I could kill myself. Two, I could go … Continue reading One: I Could Kill Myself | Two: I Could Go To Africa –scene from The Outsider, A Novel.