one thing today

This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern - to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal.

  was moving too close to a summertime Sunday afternoon blueish kinda too familiar mood yesterday and took a walk and overheard a guy in the park explain to his younger pal that all city women are complicated. then, a really young kid played Glory Days on his guitar and then counted his applause. and then, I watched about a hundred dancers in Washington Square carry on thanks to Chaka Kahn singing about somebody called Ain't Nobody. 

  ... therefore I am. I am not sure that is true. lately I have contemplated the need to share - thoughts, words, plans, doubts, news. those kind of things. why? I am not sure there is a need to do that and therefore, I am not sure how I feel about continuing this blog. I get so little feedback from you who read it. say hello once in a while. let me know how you're feeling, doing. or not. which goes back to the question about needing the need share stuff ... like what Nabakov thinks about butterflies while I think about whether I spell his name correctly. or how long Terri Garr has been dead, what the temperature is, how many hours I slept last night, mules. see what I mean? about the need - or not- to share.  time will tell.  as always.  just writin'.

  Agnes Martins signature style was defined by an emphasis upon line, grids, and fields of extremely subtle color. Her paintings are covered in dense, minute and softly delineated graphite grids. They retained small flaws and unmistakable traces of the artist's hand. She favored the personal and spiritual. Her paintings, statements, and influential writings often reflected an interest in Eastern philosophy

 ... paintings are really beautiful in person. Their size and the exactitude. What's most intriguing to me about them is the WHY of them. Why did she make them? What made her spend the time drawing her lines over and over again. I will do some homework and report on them tomorrow. 

Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed all together, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.                                                                                                                                      -                                                                     ...