February 22nd, 2021

2010

Pushing today to tomorrow




Ever lose a day?

No matter what you had planned or dreamed, somehow that day got away from you and you had nothing to show for it.

It's not that we shouldn't be allowed to squander. I just can't stand wasting a day. Time is our most precious commodity.

If losing a day meant doing something you don't often get to do; adventure, discover, or spending it somewhere rejuvenating your soul, I could live with the crime of blowing a deadline or pushing today to tomorrow. But I cannot reconcile a 24 hour cycle where I meandered, stared into the void, removed window lint with the tip of my index finger.

When those days occur, I experience a crisis of confidence. Imposter syndrome. I'm paralyzed by the inertia of anxiety and indifference.

But then I wonder if those kinds of days are supposed to happen. Supposed to paralyze you; force your mind and body into silence and inaction. Stop you from crashing. Reboot your system. Refuel your engine. Oxygenate your blood in preparation for all the proactive days and nights to come.

Despite how super disciplined I was in 2020, maybe it was a coping mechanism? Duck and cover. I was hiding out in my comport zone of creativity to stave off the horrors of a global pandemic.

But, it's the little things, right? Flipping through an old comic book. Watching a rerun. Toasting a pop tart. Talking on the phone...
2010

RIP Richard McCann



Richard McCann was my captain at my first residency at Yaddo in 2012, and he set a tone nearly impossible to recapture. A spirit I've tried to echo ever since.

Richard was kind yet cautious. Feisty yet fair. Erudite yet provocative. A brilliant writer who excavated the gold of the soul despite the pain of humanity. Navigating nine lives, his body battled more physical setbacks than most men should have to suffer.

I think it was the fourth day I entered the Yaddo mansion dining room in my boxer briefs that Richard discreetly advised that maybe I should wear pants to breakfast. He had a twinkle in his eye that helped steer my embarrassing faux pas into our magical bond. I hold dear to my heart our many talks at the swimming pool. I miss his Cheshire smile.

Rest well, my beautiful friend.