Dear Friends, As I mentioned recently, I’ve moved to an every-other-week schedule for my regular posts over the summer. In between, I’m holding our space together with these quick postcards featuring photos of New York by my dear friend, Bobby Duvet.
I am in Lexington Kentucky. I moved here almost exactly a year ago. Yesterday, I received 75 copies of a book I’ve been finishing since then. It was printed and bound in the last five weeks. I have worried about the subject matter since I started work on it several years ago, but somehow and weird to me, it insisted that I get it out of me. So I listened and created a book about gay male fucking—at age 82, when many people I know are writing memoirs. But the book that arrived on my doorstop yesterday, in one of the reddest of red states, is to me beautiful and humane. Last night, I came across a documentary, completely accidentally, about George Platt Lynes, who also worried about the same issue in the 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s, but created his images anyway. I found this immensely comforting, in the reddest of red states, as if some agent of fate had told that finding the documentary was not accidental. “Hey you,” it seemed to say, “calm down.” I know that subway station. I have passed through those bars.
Early evening in Windmill Hill, Bristol UK. It's warm, for once, and everyone has their windows open. Birdsong, and a soft cheer that must have been England scoring in the (soccer) Euros. Later, I'm going to an old fire station in the city centre to hear my neightbour, Polly Barton, talk about her book, Porn: An Oral History. Is a theme emerging? Full moon tonight, wherever we all are.
Hey Sal, I love postcards! The linden trees in Berlin are in bloom, so the air on my street is fragrant when the days are warm. We're having a lot of rain, too. Yesterday I went to our local park and checked in with the buzzard family that's nesting there, also stopping to enjoy the song of a very loud thrush. I also know a couple of people who are writing memoirs at the moment - super courageous! Today is the summer solstice! Fête de la musique! Going out later to see what random street perfrmances I can find. Wish you were here, too -- although you actually seem to be perfectly happy where you are! N.
I have the happily contradictory wish to be in both places. The long light in Berlin is wonderfully long and joyful — I’d love to be wandering the parks and searching for music performances in the streets with you. I keep meaning to be in Iceland for the solstice some year — I was there during one July and it was magical.
I'm in the San Francisco Bay Area, where the morning is beginning gray, cool, and still. There's a level of calm and anticipation that I enjoy during these early hours because come 4-5pm the wind picks up aggressively during the summer days. As the day becomes warmer, the smells of eucalyptus, jasmine, and lavender increasingly fill the air. Enjoy your well-deserved period of rest and thank you for these wonderful postcards.
It makes me so happy that you write about the fragrances of the air. Roses are in full bloom everywhere in town here, and I stick my nose in them like a bee.
Thank you for the combination of underground metro energy and seaside siesta! (The text editor asked me if I meant “fiesta.” I answered it: I dunno. Ask Sal.)
It’s early in the Mountain time zone. Night flowers are still open, and early birds are out there exclaiming their ever-new surprise that day came back. I’m getting ready for houseguests to arrive by midday.
I’ll take fiesta — one of my projects here is learning to make tortillas! I loved hearing about your early morning with the birds & night flowers. When I lived in Hawaii we had night-blooming cereus.
Wonderful! Everything stops for a fragrant, one-night blossom. I hope your tortillas turn out well. We have a local company that makes fresh ones, and the grocery store stocks them. They really do taste better.
I am in Lexington Kentucky. I moved here almost exactly a year ago. Yesterday, I received 75 copies of a book I’ve been finishing since then. It was printed and bound in the last five weeks. I have worried about the subject matter since I started work on it several years ago, but somehow and weird to me, it insisted that I get it out of me. So I listened and created a book about gay male fucking—at age 82, when many people I know are writing memoirs. But the book that arrived on my doorstop yesterday, in one of the reddest of red states, is to me beautiful and humane. Last night, I came across a documentary, completely accidentally, about George Platt Lynes, who also worried about the same issue in the 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s, but created his images anyway. I found this immensely comforting, in the reddest of red states, as if some agent of fate had told that finding the documentary was not accidental. “Hey you,” it seemed to say, “calm down.” I know that subway station. I have passed through those bars.
Tom
Hi Tom, congratulations on your book! It’s a beautiful thing to find the courage to persist in the work your deep self is drawn to do.
Early evening in Windmill Hill, Bristol UK. It's warm, for once, and everyone has their windows open. Birdsong, and a soft cheer that must have been England scoring in the (soccer) Euros. Later, I'm going to an old fire station in the city centre to hear my neightbour, Polly Barton, talk about her book, Porn: An Oral History. Is a theme emerging? Full moon tonight, wherever we all are.
I feel like I’m right there, Lucy. Wish I could drop by the fire station and hear your friend.
The moon last night was amazing here, big and yellow — looking forward to tonight’s fullness.
Hey Sal, I love postcards! The linden trees in Berlin are in bloom, so the air on my street is fragrant when the days are warm. We're having a lot of rain, too. Yesterday I went to our local park and checked in with the buzzard family that's nesting there, also stopping to enjoy the song of a very loud thrush. I also know a couple of people who are writing memoirs at the moment - super courageous! Today is the summer solstice! Fête de la musique! Going out later to see what random street perfrmances I can find. Wish you were here, too -- although you actually seem to be perfectly happy where you are! N.
I have the happily contradictory wish to be in both places. The long light in Berlin is wonderfully long and joyful — I’d love to be wandering the parks and searching for music performances in the streets with you. I keep meaning to be in Iceland for the solstice some year — I was there during one July and it was magical.
I'm in the San Francisco Bay Area, where the morning is beginning gray, cool, and still. There's a level of calm and anticipation that I enjoy during these early hours because come 4-5pm the wind picks up aggressively during the summer days. As the day becomes warmer, the smells of eucalyptus, jasmine, and lavender increasingly fill the air. Enjoy your well-deserved period of rest and thank you for these wonderful postcards.
It makes me so happy that you write about the fragrances of the air. Roses are in full bloom everywhere in town here, and I stick my nose in them like a bee.
How wonderful!
Thank you for the combination of underground metro energy and seaside siesta! (The text editor asked me if I meant “fiesta.” I answered it: I dunno. Ask Sal.)
It’s early in the Mountain time zone. Night flowers are still open, and early birds are out there exclaiming their ever-new surprise that day came back. I’m getting ready for houseguests to arrive by midday.
Wishing you a peaceful time in Provincetown!
I’ll take fiesta — one of my projects here is learning to make tortillas! I loved hearing about your early morning with the birds & night flowers. When I lived in Hawaii we had night-blooming cereus.
Wonderful! Everything stops for a fragrant, one-night blossom. I hope your tortillas turn out well. We have a local company that makes fresh ones, and the grocery store stocks them. They really do taste better.