Posted December 10th, 2003 by Michelle

It pains me to not be in New York right now. I don’t know how many of my fair readers actually read my blog independently of my brother Ian’s, so I can assume that most of you read his latest post. It is so strange to me that I don’t know what he’s talking about- I don’t know who lied to him and Tessa about investing in the Pink House. I can only imagine what they are feeling these days. And I am no longer a ten-minute walk (albeit through snow and storm, at this point) from their apartment so I cannot cuddle up to the ever-present cheese board, watch some bad cable, and get to the heart of what has happened in my absence. I cannot wait to see my New York family. Ian, Tess, I am so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.

I went to a party last night and got home at 9 this morning. These are fun days. But when my friend Christopher asked me why I’m not writing as much as I wish I was, I listed a dozen excuses, all of them essentially lame. I don’t know why I’m not writing, other than not having a computer on which to write. This, too, I could somehow circumnavigate, if only I could a) read my own longhand writing or b) feel comfortable saving work on other people’s computers (which I just cannot do. I’ve never felt comfortable doing this).

I am vastly lucky, deeply grateful for my current living situation. It’s time to actually start doing something concrete for my artistic life.