3 days to NYC

Countdown to Cornelia Street: 4 days.

What to wear: Not yet.

New shoes: Nope, not yet. (All my shoes are clunky, old, and not good for long walks–a triple whammy. I need style plus comfort if I’m going to Gotham.)

And the ups and downs: Today I found out that one of the papers I’d sent p.r. didn’t, in the end, have room to fit us into their calendar. On the one hand (always that one hand!), I was glad they at least showed an interest. But it was still disappointing.

I’ve been trying to stay philosophical. Lately, disappointments seem to be followed (even at a length) by… what’s the antonym of “disappointment”? It seems to even out.

Oscillations.

And another sneak preview–Sarah Sarai’s poem “Like Wings”:
What can be said. Speed is
a calling. Desire is a bidding.

Judgment rises from steam
and then where?

Fortune is the heart of
two chambers like wings

and the instinct to soar,
migrate, see the world

and its topographical
gestures. Topography is

the back of a woman seen as
desert or a reptile’s spine

seen as disco hall of mirrors 
as glitter and gold lamé.

You have not learned to trust
(the muted instinct).

Fixed stars are lighting
your dance floor. Risk.

Sarah Sarai, “Like Wings,” published in Redheaded Stepchild

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