I’m now ensconced in a snug cottage, with plenty of time and even more quiet. A perfect time to–finally–write, drive out those nagging demons.
But after driving the car 300 miles yesterday and then a really fun reading last night (videotaped and streaming from Provincetown TV), and then a long walk on the beach this morning, I just want to take a nap.
After car service to LaGuardia, renting a car, driving to Long Island City, taking the truly beautiful Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan and the George Washington Bridge to NJ and the yes-it-really-is-scenic Palisades Parkway up to/back to NY and the thruway and a stop for lunch in New Palz, I’m here. A walk by the creek, some time for free writing, and a little dog named Lucy.
Last night, after traipsing around the Museum of Natural History and Central Park, Laurie and I took the train down to the Village.
It was a good time–an enthusiastic audience and a whole lotta wonderful poems. And my friends Billy and Maureen came–so good to catch up, if only for an hour or two and only part way.
Then we all went to dinner and shared stories of Austen, Paris, Rotterdam, and Patterson.