My dear old friend since 1978, Annie, lives in Rockland, Maine. She's a writer and a painter like me and says I write best in emails. Here's my latest to her as she approaches an atrial fibrilation heart surgery procedure that terrifies me.
I've been writing things on my computer and on Facebook and on the Internet for six weeks while it's been raining. The sun was out for five days but now it's dark again. I'm also making a huge succulent garden. The first step is separating and repotting all the succulents I already have; they've been surviving all crunched together. Everyday tiny offshoots of the old plants appear in their new little homes. I know absolutely nothing about any of this so it's interesting.
Dear Annie:
Well you've got balls and I expect your procedure will be fine. Boy it only takes a threat on your life to get you doing your creative stuff again. Sounds like a great collaboration you're having with your artist friend. I just saw a movie called Painters Painting from 1973. All the Abstract Expressionists talk about their work and just one woman is included, Helen Frankenthaler. I told the people afterwards (it was shown in my studio building) that when I was young and went to the Cedar Bar or to Monhegan, all the women artists were wives (i.e. servants) of these famous artists, bowing and serving and scraping. I would never even go out with one of them. The movie is interesting - from Netflicks if you do that.
I've been writing things on my computer and on Facebook and on the Internet for six weeks while it's been raining. The sun was out for five days but now it's dark again. I'm also making a huge succulent garden. The first step is separating and repotting all the succulents I already have; they've been surviving all crunched together. Everyday tiny offshoots of the old plants appear in their new little homes. I know absolutely nothing about any of this so it's interesting.