Frances, remember I told you that this hole, the second piercing on my right lobe hasn’t closed up in 20 years? It simply doesn’t want to go away. I’ve been ignoring it, because it simply wouldn’t look professional to put a third earring in. You know?
I don’t know why, but I noticed it again yesterday and stuck a diamond stud in it. It looked good. My husband said “Hey, you got your ear pierced! How come?” No, it’s always been there. He agreed, it was very “me.”
Sumpin is happening. I am sure I’m making it happen, but it feels more like other forces are acting on me. Throwing out clothes that make me feel…less like myself. Things I should wear to work, but hate wearing.
We went to a funky hippie-type cafe in Asbury Park last night, because he’s hanging some of his photos for a show. It was a little too artsy for him, but I felt right at home, down to the vegan muffins. Asbury Park’s struggling renaissance is very gay–I hope it takes.
This isn’t unrelated to writing, Francis. I am writing, finishing up Mayan Secrets for Samhain, the long-overdue sequel to Mayan Nights. It’s so very different than the first book. I’m a little frightened of what a reader or editor might say. I’m also playing around with a few other books that are very different from where I started. A first person. Too soon to talk about that one. I’m a little frightened, as I said, but also excited by the fact that soon, I’ll be writing without a single new contract in hand. A fresh start for my 50th birthday, permission to speak from the heart, to write from the heart, to write the book of my heart, perhaps a few of them.
And to have a place for those single earrings that I never threw out. I kept them, over about 20 years, thinking one day I might find the mates while cleaning. But I don’t need the mates now.
Have a lovely Sunday evening.