END OF AN ERA
2:45 pm I am driving home from the studio, having put the last of things into the car. The last visit to that studio. According to an early painting I might have been in that building, in three different offices, since 1993 at least.
Now it feels quite good and right. Just “made” $2760. for the year. Nice. Can easily set up shop here. Sweet. No longer have to worry about the place or getting to it, closing the windows, paying the rent or dealing with the neighbors in the building. Of course the “psychotherapist” was there and said, Oh, moving out. Well did you ever come in very much anyway? It varied. And won’t have to deal with the landlords any more. And won’t have to be the Barnett Newman or Jonathan Lasker or Tobias Lehner of the White Mountains. Now I can be the Giorgio Morandi of the Baker Valley. Of course I will miss the place. Lots of memories and the huge windows and the big space. But always days when I wanted to work and it was too cold even with hat on and woolen vest and summer was at least two months worthless because of the heat and humidity. So farewell. The King is dead, Long live the King. A bright new age is upon us. Dress rehearsal for retirement. And then after that, death itself. To wax melodramatic.
Or Beckettean. I can see a production of “Happy Days” at Walmart. And at the pool. Maybe a pool in Florida. On a sunny day like today, the snow all brilliant, the club’s pool is really too splendid in its pragmatic way.
Earlier we swam. New record for Virginia—45-50 minutes non-stop swim. Thought we might go see Avatar but remembered that tomorrow is Pilates in early afternoon.
