Two construction sites, flanking either side of my building. 8:00 am to 6:00 pm. Banging, clanging, and the sound of jackhammers. In paradise.
Merely the sound of my own internal demons.
Even as I get ready to write what I'm about to write I think, oh, how crude and how melodramatic. But the toothsome demons I've been dealing with this past year and especially, these past weeks, well, they are powerful indeed. Not to be handled lightly.
LISTEN UP, MOTHERFUCKERS!
I AM DONE WITH YOU!
NOTHING YOU CAN DO WILL STOP ME BECAUSE I AM ENTIRELY COMMITTED TO FINISHING THIS BOOK. I AM HERE AND I WILL NEVER RUN AWAY.
LEAVE NOW AND NEVER RETURN!
Showing posts with label memoir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memoir. Show all posts
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Hermit
Why didn't I see it before? In the process of writing this book, I've purposely put myself in situations that are isolating, all while feeling terribly lonely.
Maine in winter. Enough said. I lived in a coastal town that is basically closed from October through May. I hear they are still - still! - wearing sweaters there.
Puerto Vallarta in summer. I had visions of shaking off the dust and embracing life again. I'm realizing now that the weather here is conducive to staying inside. And as people keep telling me, it's not even begun to get hot yet: just wait til the rains start in June. As it gets hotter, I will spend more time in my apartment with the glorious view. People have also said that Vallarta really comes alive from November to March (and not now, when I am here). To be fair, as far as liveliness goes, Mexico is at the opposite end of the spectrum from Maine.
Fuck.
Am I just incredibly smart, creating spaces to force me to face myself and write...or what? I don't know how to feel.
Maine in winter. Enough said. I lived in a coastal town that is basically closed from October through May. I hear they are still - still! - wearing sweaters there.
Puerto Vallarta in summer. I had visions of shaking off the dust and embracing life again. I'm realizing now that the weather here is conducive to staying inside. And as people keep telling me, it's not even begun to get hot yet: just wait til the rains start in June. As it gets hotter, I will spend more time in my apartment with the glorious view. People have also said that Vallarta really comes alive from November to March (and not now, when I am here). To be fair, as far as liveliness goes, Mexico is at the opposite end of the spectrum from Maine.
Fuck.
Am I just incredibly smart, creating spaces to force me to face myself and write...or what? I don't know how to feel.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
¡Hola, mis amigas y amigos!
I am rewilding myself.
That is, I am returning to a natural state, the sexy juicy bold brave raw loving savoring celebrating curious cosmic circumstance I would inhabit without the interference of the humdrum and ho-hum. Just like a jaguar dancing through jungle foliage.
Let’s take a look at Kelly in her habitat. Here she is, strolling down the street in some tropical locale, clothed in a pink t-shirt and a floaty bit of skirt, her smile a stupor of joy. Here she is, sitting on a verdant veranda, journal in hand. See her playing in the waves. See her eating guacamole. See her finally finishing her memoir and shaking her hips in front of her laptop…
To get back to my worldly wildness, first I have to get out of Maine!
I am heading to Mexico.
Last February I traveled to Puerto Vallarta on a last-minute vacation whim, drenching myself in ocean and sunset. In May, I left a decade-long corporate career. During the summer, I bounced from friend to friend and wrote like my life depended on it. Which it did, I think. Against a backdrop of flaming fall foliage, I road tripped to Maine.
And then it got cold.
And then it got colder.
Who knew they made fleece pants?
Damn. Is that my big hibernation ass in the mirror? Junk in the trunk!
One day as I gazed out at cars drifting by on Route 1, I knew my winter writing retreat was over. It was time to put up or shut up. I’d quit a job – a career – to do this. Time to put myself out there and go back to Mexico. Puerto Vallarta and I have some unfinished, enchanted business.
Happy Valentine’s Day, me!
I consider my book a love letter. Penning a memoir ties you up and teaches you to love life. All of it. The pain and the laughs, the watery peaks and troughs, the lobster rolls and slippery sidewalks, the breakdowns and shakeups and breakups, the fucking, the loving, the sweet sweaty pleasure of who you really are when you forget yourself.
I’ve already fought my way to the top. Now, I shall surrender my way to the top. This will be easy to do with the spicy, lime-scented breezes of Mexico under my wings.
Come with me.
That is, I am returning to a natural state, the sexy juicy bold brave raw loving savoring celebrating curious cosmic circumstance I would inhabit without the interference of the humdrum and ho-hum. Just like a jaguar dancing through jungle foliage.
Let’s take a look at Kelly in her habitat. Here she is, strolling down the street in some tropical locale, clothed in a pink t-shirt and a floaty bit of skirt, her smile a stupor of joy. Here she is, sitting on a verdant veranda, journal in hand. See her playing in the waves. See her eating guacamole. See her finally finishing her memoir and shaking her hips in front of her laptop…
To get back to my worldly wildness, first I have to get out of Maine!
I am heading to Mexico.
Last February I traveled to Puerto Vallarta on a last-minute vacation whim, drenching myself in ocean and sunset. In May, I left a decade-long corporate career. During the summer, I bounced from friend to friend and wrote like my life depended on it. Which it did, I think. Against a backdrop of flaming fall foliage, I road tripped to Maine.
And then it got cold.
And then it got colder.
Who knew they made fleece pants?
Damn. Is that my big hibernation ass in the mirror? Junk in the trunk!
One day as I gazed out at cars drifting by on Route 1, I knew my winter writing retreat was over. It was time to put up or shut up. I’d quit a job – a career – to do this. Time to put myself out there and go back to Mexico. Puerto Vallarta and I have some unfinished, enchanted business.
Happy Valentine’s Day, me!
I consider my book a love letter. Penning a memoir ties you up and teaches you to love life. All of it. The pain and the laughs, the watery peaks and troughs, the lobster rolls and slippery sidewalks, the breakdowns and shakeups and breakups, the fucking, the loving, the sweet sweaty pleasure of who you really are when you forget yourself.
I’ve already fought my way to the top. Now, I shall surrender my way to the top. This will be easy to do with the spicy, lime-scented breezes of Mexico under my wings.
Come with me.
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