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Ended up dancing back from Starbucks, to the gorillas the sites which I happened across some haphazard way oh yes through the poet such and such is Spotify page what's her name sister something she's fabulous and thick.

But I was so deleted from my writing tonight, first of children's short story and then if you chapters and my young adult novel, that my desk was extra charged almost machine like precision. Although I still let my freak flag fly pretty hot.

But then walking out of Starbucks and conditions to the comfort zone of hell, first level., And into the sweltering sweaty heat of heaven. Priceless. Mike priceless. Make priceless.

It all started when I walked out of Starbucks, no before that with Matthews cakes. Crones. But then walking out Starbucks, the air-conditioned world, into the sweltering sweaty night. Priceless.

Omgjd

Poetry reading at Marlene's one wed per month. Big names classic series so easy!

One of those days

Gen happened to bring my backpack to the hospital yesterday. I didn't ask her to bring it, so it felt destined when this morning I looked in the pocket and found some space cake crumbs.

I ate them and then spent a few hours with Sofia painting in the children's play area. Then we went back to the room and watched my favorite movie (along with Elf) of all time, Happy Feet.

There was a moment watching the movie that Sofia was intently examining me with her stethoscope.
And I nearly floated away in bliss in that moment. Could've died with happiness.  I am sad to leave the hospital and feel I could stay for days and days with Sofia just being in this place. 

I can barely believe the fantastic places life takes me sometimes.

And speaking of barely believing, later tonight a rough fight with Genevieve. She just comes at me, tired and frustrated and so angry and condescending and righteous, for such seemingly little things. (Like I left some tupperware at the hospital for instance.) So upsetting. I take it to be some kind of balance to the magic and the bliss, like the necessary other side, but it is rough. Three year old Sofia is just yelling for us to COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! And I know just how she feels. Genevieve can be extremely hard to take sometimes, but no doubt she must feel the same about me.

The question is, what gets born in the moment?

Another moment today that felt significant was reading Lapham's Quarterly and coming across a fragment of Beryl Markham's "West With The Night" in which she talks about delivering a foal. It was a stunning account of not just the birth of a foal, but the process of birth itself.

All of this feels like aftermath to seeing Amma in NYC a few days ago.

Go figure.

Proustian Sonnet for Marcella, Anna, Erica and Ronaldo

Newly published Proust poems read
from the river, lower west side.
The words weave through the small
fountainfall of water behind me, while
all around us the sounds of the city
quiet down to just the harmony
between Marcel translated by Marcella
and then Anna and Jennifer, flaw
lessly, except Marcella turning a quack
back into something more than a duck.
The duck lands in the fountain to keep
me company as I take a leap
Into eternity, as evening encloses,
The murmur of summer breezes

now joining the murmur of friends.
The evening, for now, never ends.