They always say that ends are really beginnings, that closings are openings and the glass is empty and full. I say BEGINNING! OPENING! FULL! and am so nervous-excited that I could vomit.
On my mind: Goya's Desastres de la Guerra Poetry. Words. What they are. Names. Flowers. Nesbit. My Spanish and American family. Relationships and how absurd they really are. Solitude. Student loans. Scripture. Love and marriage and gender according to Scripture.
On the play list and in no particular order: Cold Truth by Guggenheim Grotto Midnight Coward by Stars Such Great Heights by The Postal Service Sideways Down by The Frames Stations by Denison Witmer In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel Fake Empire by The National This is Just a Modern Rock Song by Belle and Sebastian Blacking Out the Friction by Death Cab for Cutie It's Your Life by Frou Frou Volare by Gipsy Kings Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine This Side by Nickel Creek Fast Car by Tracy Chapman The Perpetual Self by Sufjan Stevens California by Joni Mitchell
I have a new camera and will set up my Madrid "studio" in the next week. Twyla Tharp advocates that one always calls their working space their studio regardless of whether it is a desk, a garage or a studio.