Yesterday Molly and I went to yoga and then to an opening at her gallery and I ran into someone I have known for a decade but haven’t seen in five years, maybe longer, and she didn’t recognize me because I guess I have lost a lot of weight. (I mean, I know I have. But it has been so long since I did that I sometimes forget about it.)
“You used to be bigger here,” she said, and motioned to my chest.
I laughed. “You always go straight for the tits, don’t you?” I said.
We talked for a little bit about how I had done it. I attributed it mainly to yoga, but that I do yoga not just to be in shape but to enhance my creativity and strengthen my soul.
“I’m in a much better mood these days,” I said. “I try really hard not to leave my house in a bad mood.”
She agreed. “Why take it out on anyone else?”
God, I used to be really miserable. For a long time I was so fucking miserable. For decades.
I got better. We are all capable of getting better.
+++
I’m reading a bunch right now. I read Sarah Glidden’s How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less and I adored it. It’s so poignant and emotional and articulate and smart and informative. I’m reading old Ellen Gilchrist stories. I love the way she writes about love. I am reading Justin Taylor’s galley. So far, it’s pretty dirty, which I appreciate.
I started work on a new chapter this morning. It’s the third-from-the-last chapter in the book. So far it’s about a man in an ill-fitting suit.
When I wake up in the morning I fantasize about being done with my book, and the way that will feel, how full I will feel.
