in a corner of nyc in 1949...

after a lovely dinner thai dinner, with my friend angela, that ended in a search for mr. softie ice cream--i sauntered over to the bookstore to troll the aisles in search of some of your suggestions

i ended up getting The Time traveler's Wife because i was told that it's wildly sexy (and because it was a today show book club selection--and since i stood in line behind matt lauer at the ice cream shop yesterday--i took it as a sign)

after passing up countless books that i could have snatched up in a second if it weren't for my tight purse strings, i ended up in the postcard section

years ago, when i first became a wee bit sad my general practitioner sent me to a fantastic life coach in houston. life coaches focus not on the root of the problem but rather what can be done to improve your life immediately--little things: making lists and collages, identifying what makes you happy, and so on and so forth

one of the things this life coach asked me to do was cut out pictures from magazines that in some way lit a fire under me...well i'm doing this again. now.

above my work desk (in the corner of my bedroom) i'm gluing images right onto the wall. blogs are veritable treasure troves of delicious images so that's where most have come from.

but tonight, in the postcard section, this one struck me:



i flipped it over.

"Tanaquil Le Clercq, Donald Windham, Buffie Johnson, Tennessee Williams and Gore Vidal at Cafe Nicholson, NYC, 1949. Photograph by Karl Bissinger"

holy smokes. 

the quintessential Balanchine dancer, the pioneer of female painters, and three of the greatest, most prolific American writers. ever.

you think gatherings like this still happen anywhere? i sure hope so.

it's going up on the wall. now. 

what if....



what if i hung my feelings like  photos on the wall just to remember 

what if i was a detective and searched my body for fingerprints and traces of your touch

what if i stopped right here, planted my feet, lifted my arms to the sky and grew leaves

what if i was a poem chasing its tail across the page

what if i disappeared into the crowd and swung from palm to palm like Tarzan through the jungle until i found a grasp that wouldn't let go

what if my legs moved on without me and i just stood right here, head over shoulder, waiting for the past to catch up