The Weeklies: May 19 - 25
This week (and this Weekly) was used to prepare for the big trip next week: Alistair and I will be in Normandy and Paris for the 75th Anniversary of D-Day.
I'm usually inspired while and after I travel, so it is strangely ironic that last week I was so unbelievably inspired. On Monday, after work, I took refuge in a Flatiron tea shop and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. In winter the well was dry, so I wondered: why now? Was it listening to Albin de la Simone on repeat? Was it the texture of herbs under my fingers as I chopped them? Or maybe the smell of the lemon zest? (Something that comes to life by scratching a surface?) Was it still the quiet restraint of "Mrs. Dalloway"?
I had been a little anguished -- lost even -- in the past few weeks. So that only made my creativity seem odd and misplaced among the hours I spent circling my own thoughts.
I cooked and wrote every night after work, with the windows open to let in the breezes. I stayed inside most of the long weekend. The window seat was my preferred spot. The weather grew warm (nearly 80 degrees) by Sunday, and I watched everyone in their sun hats and shorts; couples with big coolers and beach chairs migrated to the subway and ultimately, to the beach. "I hate you all," I muttered under my breath, jealously. My Memorial Day Weekends away were frigid, rainy affairs. They were getting the sun.
I like to leave a list of old posts for people to read while I'm gone (as if that happens, honestly there's no great crowd clamoring for me to post). A long time ago I wrote an essay about Henri, one of my friends I'll be seeing while I'm in Paris (it's one of my favorite essays because it paints me unfavorably, and I aimed to write it honestly). You can read that one here: Bextixt
A few others from the archive I'm proud to re-share:
I WANT TO READ ABOUT TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE! (OR, I JUST WANT TO SEE PRETTY PICTURES.)
That time I randomly went to Shelter Island with a boy I hardly knew. (Spoiler: I didn't get murdered.)
Hot Springs, and Mountains and Bears in Colorado.
My first trip to Montauk and the one trip that made me fall in love with it.
Paris and London the second time around.
Coronado, California and Boston, Mass., briefly.
YOU'RE ANNOYING. HERE'S FURTHER PROOF:
I'M GOING ON TOO MANY FIRST DATES. HONEY, YOU AIN'T GOT NOTHING ON ME. THESE POSTS ARE ONE-TENTH OF ONE PERCENT OF FIRST DATES I'VE BEEN ON...
My date with a prominent New York birder.
My MET Museum date.
A sad, "I was ghosted," post.
That date with the famous photographer at my favorite bar.
How (most of them) take their drinks.
I WANT TO READ ABOUT MOBILE OR AT LEAST SEE SOME GOOD PHOTOS.