Expecting to Fly

You have to be in the right frame of mind to truly listen. It’s always this way, that’s why it’s possible to miss so much. For me, it was hearing this song for the first time (although, I’ve listened to it before), while I was in the wheel getting my 10,000 daily steps. A CD playing on an old sound system with great speakers. Magic.

(Original Vid? huh?)
(Neil plays “Expecting to Fly” on the twelve-string.)

Theres rosemary, thats for remembrance;
pray you, love, remember.

 —William Shakespeare

I’m so grateful that Hope has good 
and true friends like sweet Anna.

The key of D is daffodil yellow.

—Marian McPartland

There is hurt that cannot be undone. 
I wanted to find a way to negotiate it, 
to live with it. 

Jessica Lee, Turning


A man took our photo today without asking. Hope and I were having vegan chili and toast at the café when we heard the unmistakable click of a smartphone pointed directly at us. “What are you ladies reading?” the man asked. With heat rising up my neck and face, I said, “Just some essays. They’re not very interesting.” I felt trapped. What I wanted to say was, “Delete that photo, now!” Instead, I looked at Hope, who was equally uncomfortable and smiled. We finished our meal hurriedly and left.

We’re safe at home now, but I’m still rattled. Should I have said or done something differently? Technically, its not illegal to take a strangers photo in public. It is, however, rude and inappropriate to photograph or film someone without asking permission.

For guidance, I try to imagine what an enlightened person like Eckhart Tolle would do. In my mind’s eye, I can see him with hands in prayer position nodding and smiling for the camera

Coming Soon...

Gia’s latest album will be released in June, I believe. 

Hydrangea Dreams

In my dream 
you wrote a poem 
that explained 


I write of trees, a repetition of figure-eights, the magnetic pull of love. Not certain of how much time has passed, I cease writing, rush past the curving back of Neptune, down the stone steps, hurrying to the nearby train station. Alain regards me quizzically. Aurélien asks me whether I took any photographs. Only one, I say, a picture of a word.

—Patti Smith