I’ve been living in Portland for five months and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I probably won’t really know for years because that’s how it works right?
It’s been hard for me to not write, and that’s the only process I can speak to I guess, it’s so compulsive and I need to do it all the time that sometimes I make myself not do it so I can actually tend to my life.
I grew up eating hamburger helper, macaroni and cheese, and drinking lots of milk, and looked at lots of cows; but I feel like a New Yorker now, I’ve lived here for sixteen years.
I feel that I’d rather know an actors’ work, or have an instinct about them and sit down and have coffee with them, or I’ll see them in something and I’ll see if I can get along with them in some way, shape, or form.
I think after we ingest some of the cruelty of the world, it takes years off of our lives, but it also gives us wisdom and a little grace, hopefully a sense of compassion.
