carmel apples. cool breeze. andy warhol.

Right now I am sitting in a glass room with every door open surrounded by forest (once again) smiling. And considering some of my irrational activities as of late… smiling feels even more spectacular than usual. There is the most sublime bite of a morning breeze blowing through reminding me of autumn’s arrival… coaxing my words into stories and poems.

Being the youngest of five children has benefits for many reasons, but still being spoiled with sweets each time I come out to visit must be my favorite. At 31, I’ve had a decent run with this… nearly 32.

Have I mentioned my birthday’s in five days?

Last night I was blessed to have a sister fix that I always seek out when I start to take myself
too seriously. I reckon that’s why I fell apart last week. As much as I love New York City… I am fully aware of a common habit of its inhabitants spiraling into an existence of ‘I’m so busy… I’ve just got a lot going on…’

I’m lucky to have four older sisters to visit if any of this ever remotely seeps in. They always serve me with the perfect combinations of ‘Whatever Gretchen-s’ and ‘Dude… relax-es’ that have me promptly pulling my head in before it floats too far off into ‘And I don’t have a “real” job, and I don’t have a place, and I’m losing my shit…’

The other thing my sisters have are husbands that have become brothers to me over the years, of course. Chilling yesterday evening one of these brothers came out with, ‘Oh! I have something for you…’ and gave me a first edition print of INTRANSIT THE ANDY WARHOL – GERARD MALANGA MONSTER ISSUE.

Dudes.

My day will be spent sitting in the fresh air of fall and praising the Universe for grounding… and family… and the cult… all of that… But most importantly, it will be spent reading the words of a network of word painters I completely relate to and being put back in my place by a posse of Artists that were pretty much going through the same thing as me 42 years ago. I’ve been crying out for some hardcores to trip over and remind me what it’s about.

… sometimes you simply have to reassess where you’re looking.