Nothing and Everything
Been reading a lot of novels as to not give up on life, and due to limited shelf space, have been checking out library books. They arrive in twos and threes and I pick them up in heavy paper bags. Sometimes I cannot wait to read them until I get home, I have to stop at the coffeeshop on the way and see what it was, that 2-3 weeks ago, late in the night, that so struck me I had to order it.
Until very recently, I never liked to get rid of any books on my shelves. Especially those I've read. I thought of them like the tiles I walked on to get to where I am as a person and I didn't like to be without them. Now I have much less sentimentality for those things that are of no use to me, interest wise. I can't believe I used to lug these things across the country with me out of loyalty.
Went to see Lygia Pape this weekend. We saw her retrospective at the Met Breuer years ago. I remember her work being optimistc and funny and only now, post-covid, on another coast, nearly a decade later, I couldn't even access how I used to see the world.
Afterwards we went to a brewery and picked up big growlers of beer for my pops for father's day.
"are you going to be having anything here today?" the bartender asked me.
Me?! The pregnant lady holding a baby? Do you want me to actually stay here in your nice bar? Aren't we ruining your ambiance just by standing here?