I’ve greatly enjoyed these few days in Tucson, rustling through my belongings (there is still an astonishing level of STUFF despite all efforts to contain my enthusiasm in that regard). Action figures abound; some of them are very expressive. I love to photograph them.
Today should be a great work day; mailing things, photography, making pretty gift boxes, prancing around. It’s glorious here, in the 70’s and sunny, with cold nights, and the vines are viney and the flowers are flowery.
My little car is excited to see me, I drive around with the top down, playing the Ramones, laughing. I’m seeing friends, planning a walk up a canyon. Electric Larryland twice, Carlisle.
I am sleeping with cats, getting up early, listening to entire records, feeling the music pass by me like I am on a sea voyage.
The honeysuckle, creeping fig and jasmine have made a beautiful bower of my private space in the back yard, and the huge palo verde tree in the back yard is now big enough that its northmost branches create a canopy over the old orange trees.
It’s very peaceful back there. I am imagining us all wandering around, imagining nice weather for the book launch party in February. I am imagining walking in other places, too, with other people. Cities.
I am hugely drawn to cities. Just thinking about walking endlessly through city streets makes me high.
I want to walk forever and then have something to eat and walk some more. I want to walk for hours, and take really long strides, like a racehorse. I want to suddenly veer down alleys and spontaneously climb up stairs and ride up elevators to look out from the tops of buildings, and I want to walk over bridges and of course under them too.
I try to learn to not think of walking with other people as walking, but as a cocktail party that is on the move.
I want to talk to strangers. I want to paint people.
It feels intense, I think, how can I be so lucky as to always be wanting things so much? I used to think it was a handicap but I see now that it’s just what it is, life force.
My mind fills with my new project; I have untied its corset-strings, and it spills out all over my head and makes my skin shiver. I think of all of the people I am going to talk to. I hate having only an hour or two with someone, though. What I’d like to to is be stranded in a nice place with them for a few days.
Miss Fish watches me do the things I’m doing; she is happy to get up at 4 am, nap with me in the afternoons. She does not make lists.
I think, “I could be like her.”
When I was flying in, I was bringing things home from Boston. Our time is coming to an end.
It felt stupid, because of course I’m not leaving Boston. I’m coming back as soon as winter is over. But I brought home my summer clothes, my sandals, my beads, my Unipig, even Kirk wanted to come home. It was an odd collection of things I had in my carryon, and I warned the TSA guy on the X-ray that there were a lot of tubes of beads coming through, but I’d forgotten the tripod, that the tubes in bundles like explosives, the Kirk with his arms up, the little bag of metal tools.
The guy sent the case for a swab and I laughed, and apologized, and said, “What did it look like?”
And he just looked at me, full-on, with a really deep look and said, “Terrifying, honestly. Terrifying.”
I felt badly.
When I get back to Boston in a few days, I’ll be headed to P-Town with Gail, then off for Thanksgiving in Amish country. Then it’s time for all of Liam’s art school applications. Then it’s Christmas, and then I’ll be back in Tucson for a while, avoiding the real winter.
I like the start of winter, though; the snap in the air, the change of the leaves, the chance to wear coats and scarves and short skirts with fleece-lined tights.
I have this crazy thought that somehow, there might be more time ahead for all of us together in Boston. It will be interesting to see what we each do, with all of this freedom of choice.
I think of Liam doing his first year at Mass Art or someplace groovy near Boston and Evan finishing his last year of high school in Cambridge. Wouldn’t that be a thrill. I’ve loved us all together; and the four of us going to a new city together has been everything we each hoped it could be.
It would be so great to have more of it. The boys are so fascinating now, and anyway I doubt they are really ready to be suddenly completely apart. We’ll see.
This time, it’s up to them, such an interesting moment in our life together as a family.