At least they’re not commandments. Holy Moses! Ten more from my end of the universe.
- Sometimes I enjoy being in the front passenger seat the entire trip. Get to see more, for one thing. It’s an opportunity not to be in charge, not to be fully responsible – just let go and observe. What a relief!
- All the waterfowl, the tip of the wing nearly touching the surface they fly over: how do they do it?
- As Richard Brown Lethem says of his work, “For my entire life I’ve been trying to mine the subconscious.” No wonder I’m drawn to his paintings, inexplicable as so much remains to me.
- I feel myself to be from another planet, looking at a world I once wanted to inhabit.
- The grief men carry. Could it simply be the passage of time? Or something more fundamental to Eden?
- As the news story reported, a neck-slasher to his stepdad: “I’m going to kill you and your life is going to end.” (The redundancy is emphatic.)
- The Isabella Stewart Gardner museum in Boston’s Bay Back really is a magpie’s nest, an egocentric collection of bright and shiny objects. I do wish the curators were at liberty to give its masterpieces better display, contrary to Isabella’s directives. My, there’s so much clutter in the way!
- Rather than heading back to Maine, she’s spending the night here. Thus, it’s NO YORK.
- Pockets in a room that aren’t doing anything: that hold, in effect, dead energy. What’s the better usage?
- Who am I, at the core? What do I really want? (That, for someone she accuses of being self-centered.)