Waiting for a Spark

Painting by Faith Te

I used to know things; now the world is leaving me behind and I can't seem to catch up. I would add "no matter how hard I try," but I don't try at all. I am clueless concerning Bradley Manning and Edward Snowden, today's criminals. Hardly Jack the Ripper and the Boston Strangler, still they both are in hot water over things having to do with data and secrets and government espionage, but I'm not sure what. And I know even less about Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Downtown Abbey and Game of Thrones, whatever that is. Also, what is a bitcoin, where can I get one and how many of them equal a dollar? Where is the stock market? What is the difference between The Dow and NASDAQ?

I often wonder how non-artists spend their time. In fact, wondering that is one of the major things I do lately, since my Muse has been on vacation for months and without Her, there is little I find interesting or absorbing, despite the fact that there is so much that other people enjoy. Take kayaking, which is quite popular here in Maine: I've done it in the past and thought it was okay, but just okay. I mean, you're stuck inside a teeny boat and moving your arms and paddling and watching the scenery, but when you're finished, what do you have to show for it? Throw in the bugs and the sunburn and the possibility of drowning and it's just not all that appealing. (Lest you think I am some kind of freak, bear in mind that the writer Fran Liebowitz once said that the outdoors is what she passes through going from her apartment to a waiting taxi. I'm not that bad.)

I am reading Ethan Frome for like the 50th time and it keeps me grounded. My goal in life, at least today, is to write the same story in modern times, replacing the sled with a motorcycle and making Zeena anorexic. How great would that be?