I am on a very intense schedule up here.
It's breezy and the air is so clean and my old stereo sounds so amazing now that it has been liberated from Brooklyn. Like the music is just there to swim in, just wrapping me up in beauty. Do you ever feel like that in your apartment? I never do.
The skies have been so blue and huge and clear for the past two days it's barely like driving on the east coast at all.
In the little writing studio in the hood (yes it's kind of in the hood so I'm not creeped out by being all alone in the sticks): the window, the fan spinning, the green surrounding everything under this sky that is a particular gray-blue that you can only get when light is shining through it (almost never translates to paint, or to the website. I have a piece of lingerie that approximates the color, but that's it.)
Everything feels so right being out of the city. I don't think I'm staying in Brooklyn full-time for long. Up here: it's like all confusion and stress and nasty diesel fumes never existed. Just clarity and this level of bliss and calm from moment to moment.
You may or may not know this about me: I am a lazy slut who exists on crackers, half-decent cheese, coffee, and dinner someone buys me. But this morning at PriceChopper the produce was so freaking gorgeous, these little teeny juicy boston lettuces and huge clumps of cilantro and dark cherries which I am sure you can guess I bought way too many of.
My very intense schedule: it involves about two daily hours of driving around listening to, well, to zeppelin but now I am too calm for even that. Driving around listening to something very soothing. I've had "Solsbury Hill" around for months now, but that song still hits me precisely where I am at this moment--lit up, open, and ready to go.
I can just drive and drive. Heaven.