Somewhere in a far away land

When I started this blog last year, my intention was to use it as a place to talk about things I’m interested in like art, digital culture, food, teaching, theater, wine, and philosophy. My plan, like many bloggers, was to keep it active by posting at least once or twice a week; for a long time that worked out just fine.



I’ve been a bit of an absent parent to this website.

If anyone is reading…sorry for being absent. I’m going to try to be more active now that I’m starting to get settled in my new (old) home and at my new (old) job.

For most of the past two months I’ve either been on an airplane (I’m in one now), in meetings, or in a hotel room by myself. This wasn’t exactly what I expected when I decided to come back, although I knew that I’d be traveling some and I expected that there would be a certain level of intensity based on the volume of changes happening all at once, both work and personal. Now that I’m living this new (old) life, though, I’m discovering all the things that I didn’t anticipate and I’m trying to figure out how to be me again in my changed environment. I don’t know if that sounds like a straight-forward, easy proposition but as it turns out, it isn’t. I’ve always embraced change and am generally pretty excited about the possibilities for renewal that come with an unexpected challenge. But lately I have been feeling a bit at sea and I need to find some strategies for getting the support I need at work so that I feel more able to adapt with a positive energy. And I need to set some boundaries so that I have more time for living. That was one of the points of this move, so I need to make it happen.

Rather than ramble here in a self-pitying way, instead I’m going to post something I wrote back in 2004 when I was in Amsterdam. It was about a month after I turned 30 and I was living there as a student in the MA at DasArts. I had just met Brian a few months earlier and had left New York (and Brian) to live in Europe. In the end, I came back because I wanted to pursue my relationship with Brian and because the program wasn’t right for me. Something about the time I am in now feels like an echo of then: maybe it is the sense of change, uncertainty and reflection, all of which is exacerbated by my upcoming birthday (39th). I am edging past the half way point, I think. Something about now led me to go back and read all the emails I sent out during my time in Amsterdam (I saved them in a word file). In amongst them was this piece that I sent out with one of my updates to friends and families. For whatever reason it captures something I’m feeling now that I can’t express in more explicit language. [Some of you might recognize the themes in this and some of the exact lines that have made their way into some of my later theater work]


At night, a long fog wipes over the field

Bringing moist, clean air

Bringing cover

Bringing deep sleep

And something like silence


Under the haze of night



Like a shade



Into the air



As fog, transform

Shift molecules and ascend


Listen to the echoing air and hear your name whispered back

What does it say

In what language is it speaking


(I hear nothing

from where I sit it is only silence


negative space




not a thing)



Drift with the air

Down roads

By rivers

And make a road map for transcendence


Make a plan for erasing yourself:

Burn your birth certificate

De-magnetize your bank card

Peel your fingerprints away

Delete your memory

Forget your name

Fabricate your past

Walk through walls and fall through floors



We are wiped clean


Marked by nothing

Footprints that dissolve

Handwriting in invisible ink


No one to see you

No where to hide

No credit cards to trace your path

No records

No wind where you walk

No one to notice you

No compass to chart your path


In the cracks and in between haze and light


Invisible like we will always be



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2 Replies to “Somewhere in a far away land”

  1. I’ve been attracted to readings on zen and meditation recently – perhaps because though I don’t feel overly stressed in my life right now, my muscles have been suggesting otherwise. One of the things that makes me think perhaps I should give meditation a try again (it hasn’t stuck in the past) is that the philosophy behind it is so accepting. You just have to try to do it, acknowledging that your mind will wander and focus on things. But you just keep trying to let go and slowly, second by second, be more comfortable just being. You have to be kind to yourself and accept that failing is inevitable, but that trying again is the real triumph. Perhaps in some ways, these musings are the photo negative of your old email. Instead of from the world to invisibility, from the (chaotic) world to concentrated presence (that still holds some of the absence of invisibility).

    1. It’s funny that you mention meditation Allie because I’ve been thinking about trying it again lately. I need to get back to yoga as well to help me stay in my body and keep connected with the reality of being here now. It is a strange, but not bad, time and I think some space, silence and reflection are well over due.

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