catalogs from quarantine

Last week we were headed south for Easter. Near midnight and all of the boys were sleeping. I was driving and something was right: the music or the hour or the flurry of Merritt Parkway trees. I spent a few solid hours flipping through memories like a catalog: images, words, clips, sparks. Things pasted over, things torn, paper, stitched, indelible, memories of moments jotted on napkins.

Easter passed, Monday brought a sore throat, by Tuesday I was deliriously sick. The meds kicked in slowly, I was worn out, then just bored on quarantine. Now, I'm cogent, emerging from covers. Remembering.

There's something about being down  that makes the sweet fluttering of inspiration all the more palpable and motivating.  I've posted a smattering of projects here, but I've wanted to dig in a bit: dedicate more, catalog and capture, corset up the whale bones and give this blog a little structure.

Now seems as good a time as any. Plus a few conversations with a few wonderful people, helped a few gears turn a bit faster.

So I'm committing - details to follow - but at the least to more frequency. Daily perhaps, or something close. Starting with the tips of my own icebergs of inspiration, and then, well, we'll see.

I'll be here. You are always welcome.

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