Neighbors,
I bring news from the East Coast front. I hosted an open studio last Saturday with dozens of other artists in the Salmon Falls Mills. Over 250 people wandered through the studio. I talked with lots of prospective web design clients (strangely, two of them were separate cleaning services) as well as average folks who had very kind things to say about my work.
I met a girl, a cute girl, who came specifically to meet me and talk about (Wormhole) and, in keeping with Murphy's law, darted out of my studio before I could even get her name. This has the potential to haunt me for a while, Neighbors.
I met an astronomer and his wife, with whom I had a 20-minute conversation about the moons of Jupiter. The astronomer's appearance was a sign, I think. I had been brainstorming a series of illustrations depicting the personification of several major bodies in our solar system. When I described the project to him, his eyes brightened, and mine did, too. I'll be attending his lecture this Friday on Titan, the moon of Jupiter whose rivers and terrain mirror Earth so accurately, it's almost preternatural.
I sold lots of copies of my folk CDs. Near the end of the day, I sold a copy to a gynecologist, who bought it specifically because she wanted soft guitar music to play for her patients. After the open studios were over, I went out for dinner and beers at an organic pizza place with my brother, who was at my studio for part of the day. All of a sudden, he started laughing uncontrollably at the prospect of my music playing on a loop at an OB/GYN somewhere in southern New Hampshire. He proceeded to make a series of unrepeatable jokes, all of which I also laughed at uncontrollably, to the intrigue of the entire restaurant.
"I think you may have found your niche market," my brother said, nearly spouting a Smutty Nose beer through his nose.
All that to say, Neighbors: this was a good weekend. I'm exhausted and burdened with a severe cold. But I couldn't give a damn about that. For the first time in a long time, I am dancing with the Universe in a way that is fluid and synchronous. May brings the blossom of trees and flowers I haven't known in over seven years. And I want to blossom with them.
I bring news from the East Coast front. I hosted an open studio last Saturday with dozens of other artists in the Salmon Falls Mills. Over 250 people wandered through the studio. I talked with lots of prospective web design clients (strangely, two of them were separate cleaning services) as well as average folks who had very kind things to say about my work.
I met a girl, a cute girl, who came specifically to meet me and talk about (Wormhole) and, in keeping with Murphy's law, darted out of my studio before I could even get her name. This has the potential to haunt me for a while, Neighbors.
I met an astronomer and his wife, with whom I had a 20-minute conversation about the moons of Jupiter. The astronomer's appearance was a sign, I think. I had been brainstorming a series of illustrations depicting the personification of several major bodies in our solar system. When I described the project to him, his eyes brightened, and mine did, too. I'll be attending his lecture this Friday on Titan, the moon of Jupiter whose rivers and terrain mirror Earth so accurately, it's almost preternatural.
I sold lots of copies of my folk CDs. Near the end of the day, I sold a copy to a gynecologist, who bought it specifically because she wanted soft guitar music to play for her patients. After the open studios were over, I went out for dinner and beers at an organic pizza place with my brother, who was at my studio for part of the day. All of a sudden, he started laughing uncontrollably at the prospect of my music playing on a loop at an OB/GYN somewhere in southern New Hampshire. He proceeded to make a series of unrepeatable jokes, all of which I also laughed at uncontrollably, to the intrigue of the entire restaurant.
"I think you may have found your niche market," my brother said, nearly spouting a Smutty Nose beer through his nose.
All that to say, Neighbors: this was a good weekend. I'm exhausted and burdened with a severe cold. But I couldn't give a damn about that. For the first time in a long time, I am dancing with the Universe in a way that is fluid and synchronous. May brings the blossom of trees and flowers I haven't known in over seven years. And I want to blossom with them.
3 comments:
"I'll be attending his lecture this Friday on Titan"
I'm afraid we'll all be dead by the time you get back from all those lonely lightyears. (how I adore the ambiguity of the english language.)
but that is all very good news.
can I visit you when I head in that direction come fall?
i am just, beaming for you
and i want to visit this fall, too!
congratulations, Stephen!
Where can I find your stuff online?
Post a Comment