Now & Then
Blogging at least five years after everyone else, I often feel like a kid eating lunch alone against the playground fence. Finally though, I’ve been tagged. (Thank you, Stripey Tiger!)
Ten years ago: Sitting in the sun in Tompkin’s Square Park with Jessica and Jennifer, trying to decide whether to visit Isaac on Cape Cod or not. Wondering what it might mean? Living on East 11th Street between B & C, about to start graduate school. Buying a vintage Raleigh Sport at the Chelsea Flea Market and carrying it up and down four flights everyday.
Five years ago: Listening to the Republican National Convention on NPR while printing on a Vandercook Universal 1 at the Chicago Center for Book and Paper Arts. Staying in a Gold Coast high-rise, we watch as a storm approaches over Lake Michigan and suddenly the sun lounges are launched into the pool on the rooftop below us. The storm currents are visible white contrails as they twist and snake around buildings. We swim in the lake in our underwear and walk home wet and sandy past Barney’s and Prada.
One year ago: Driving from Cleveland to Cape Cod, I stop at a motel that turns out to be full (although there are suspiciously few cars in the car park.) There’s a glass vitrine in the foyer displaying Brylcream and a handwritten note: For Sale. For the past month, I’ve slept in my studio and woken each morning to a red, pulsing orb in the east-facing window.
Yesterday: Two films at the MIFF, one good, one bad. So bad that if I still had a subscription to Harper’s, I’d cancel it. Sanding the broken-down garden chair that I pulled out of the solid rubbish a few years back, and that my father has been tripping over in his garage ever since.
Today: Five jars of lemon butter. Sanding. A Korean film at the Forum. Remembering that the salesman who sold my parents their Guzzini light fixture in 1982 worked there nights as an usher. Didn’t the ceiling used to be painted with stars?
Tomorrow: Perhaps I’ll clear my desk? Empty my inbox? Receive a letter? A cheque? A parcel? A job? Perhaps I’ll finally start my Rare Versatile Vest Wrap. Perhaps it’ll rain.
I’m not a tenth as happy now as ten years ago.
Do you know about FutureMe.org? Perhaps I’ll write to the future me tomorrow, with all my hopes and best wishes.
Ten years ago: Sitting in the sun in Tompkin’s Square Park with Jessica and Jennifer, trying to decide whether to visit Isaac on Cape Cod or not. Wondering what it might mean? Living on East 11th Street between B & C, about to start graduate school. Buying a vintage Raleigh Sport at the Chelsea Flea Market and carrying it up and down four flights everyday.
Five years ago: Listening to the Republican National Convention on NPR while printing on a Vandercook Universal 1 at the Chicago Center for Book and Paper Arts. Staying in a Gold Coast high-rise, we watch as a storm approaches over Lake Michigan and suddenly the sun lounges are launched into the pool on the rooftop below us. The storm currents are visible white contrails as they twist and snake around buildings. We swim in the lake in our underwear and walk home wet and sandy past Barney’s and Prada.
One year ago: Driving from Cleveland to Cape Cod, I stop at a motel that turns out to be full (although there are suspiciously few cars in the car park.) There’s a glass vitrine in the foyer displaying Brylcream and a handwritten note: For Sale. For the past month, I’ve slept in my studio and woken each morning to a red, pulsing orb in the east-facing window.
Yesterday: Two films at the MIFF, one good, one bad. So bad that if I still had a subscription to Harper’s, I’d cancel it. Sanding the broken-down garden chair that I pulled out of the solid rubbish a few years back, and that my father has been tripping over in his garage ever since.
Today: Five jars of lemon butter. Sanding. A Korean film at the Forum. Remembering that the salesman who sold my parents their Guzzini light fixture in 1982 worked there nights as an usher. Didn’t the ceiling used to be painted with stars?
Tomorrow: Perhaps I’ll clear my desk? Empty my inbox? Receive a letter? A cheque? A parcel? A job? Perhaps I’ll finally start my Rare Versatile Vest Wrap. Perhaps it’ll rain.
I’m not a tenth as happy now as ten years ago.
Do you know about FutureMe.org? Perhaps I’ll write to the future me tomorrow, with all my hopes and best wishes.
posted by girlprinter at 11:42 PM
3 Comments:
I enjoyed this. I particularly like your writing style, its like seeing a slideshow in your mind, a panoramic sweep here, a closeup there. Brava.
Thank you.
Great blog I ennjoyed reading
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