Saturday, February 28, 2015

How to Know How to Live Your Life and Thoughts on a Mean Father

So an article I read this morning in the WSJ (a gift from my conservative sister who is trying to counteract the lies and  slime I read in the NYT), says we should ask ourselves 3 questions. The first is the lottery question: If you had enough money to do anything you wanted and didn't have to worry, what would you do? The second is, if your doctor told you you have only five to ten years to live, what would you do? And the third is, fi you only had today to live, what would you regret? What have you left undone?

For me, the first is easy. Hire about ten people to help me make my ideas. Keep my Port Jervis house/studio. Buy an apartment in the city with an elevator. And, travel more and get a subscription to a few opera houses. Help others, of course, but that's something I try to do now...

The second scenario is hiring only a couple of people. and not buying an apartment, and leaving out the travel and the opera subscriptions.

The third rests on my lack of success/organization etc. vis a vis my art. I have had children and tried to do a good job. I have loved people deeply and continue to do so. But I sometimes let the art, which is and has always been important to me slide a bit. Fear. Lack of confidence. Stuff from childhood.

On that last thought: It is sad, but  how can one ever completely recover from having a father that said many times "You are eating my food!" as way to complain about one's lack of obedience?

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Poem for Now

My life is a tear down:
Knotty pine, out-of-date den with small windows
ready for the wrecking ball.
Shag carpet--stained and musty from age,
wallpaper that once was cheery, now peeling sepia daisies.
Atomic formica, linoleum--real--not vinyl
and a pink bathroom, chipped, cracked and cracking
with a rust stain here and there.
Soon to be a foot print
filled with the rubble of the past,
surrounded by an untended garden.
Ready for something new, something massive.