If you were never among the privileged souls who spent some time with my dog and best friend Freida, please let me tell you about her now. We met outside of the HEB supermarket on the corner of Manchaca and Slaughter, August 2006. I was pulling into the parking lot when I saw a very animated family, a very large box, and a very big sign saying “Free Puppies.”
December 9, 2016
It’s been two years since we lost you, and it still reverberates more than you know with more people than you might imagine. You are still so loved. Continue reading “I Miss You. Thanks for the Visit.”
Less than 48 hours ago, Donald J. Trump became President-Elect. I join the majority of U.S. voters* who were knocked to our knees by this unexpected turn. Continue reading “Trump Won. I Wept. Then This Happened. Now What?”
Just over an hour ago, millions of Americans watched the Chicago Cubs break a 108-year old losing streak in the 10th inning of the 7th game of the 2016 World Series.
It. Was. Beautiful. Continue reading “The Cubs, Marriage, and America”
NaNoWriMo: it’s not a foot race, but it is definitely a marathon. Ever heard of it? It’s National Novel Writing Month. Every year, tens of thousands of fools commit to writing a 50,000 word first draft in the month of November.
This year, I’m one of them. Continue reading “My NYC Marathon: NaNoWriMo”
Doves are crying, and so am I. We’ve lost one of the most important artists of the last 100 years. This one hurts, worse than Michael Jackson, worse than David Bowie, worse than any I can remember.
I only saw Prince in concert once, but it was a private show in NYC at 3 AM in some unimpressive warehouse in Chelsea in 1993. Here’s how I got in, it’s a pretty decent story: Continue reading “Doves Are Crying Across the World”
If you’re a painter who wants a seriously high gloss but doesn’t want to breathe in the toxic fumes of a traditional two-part epoxy resin, then I’ve got to turn you on to the product that is changing my life: ArtResin.
When we think about “return on investment” (ROI), we generally think in terms of time and money. Did the time we spent yield meaningful results or was it wasted? Did the money we invested yield a profit?
I’ve read (in a few places, so I can’t be sure of the true attribution), that money is a renewable resource while time is not. This concept becomes more salient with every passing year.
I’m listening to Bowie’s last album, Blackstar, released to the public on his 69th birthday, 100 hours or so before his death. And there are 100 reasons I am overwhelmed by it. Not only as a body of work from a significant artist but as the ultimate period at the end of his life’s book. Continue reading “Bowie’s Final Grace Note”
I like rituals as much as the next odd-ball, and New Year’s Day is a splendid time for them. It’s a world-wide birthday. It’s a regular opportunity to reflect on what was–and consider what might be.
The last post shared a handful of snapshots of some natural glory from last month’s road trip to the Grand Canyon. Yes, it was a tiny representation of iPhone photos that couldn’t possibly do justice to their subjects. I know, I know — as photos, you could mark most of them as #fail.
Listen, I get it. This site may be my own little corner of InterWebs to post whatever I want, but no one likes to look at pix of others’ vacations. That’s why I’m going for the highlight reel here — a dozen snapshots of pure, pure nature from the best ten days I’ve had in a long, long time.
I’m a theater major at Duke University in Durham, NC. I hate frats and sororities but still dig the basketball team. I live off campus. I have insanely phenomenal friendships (still well intact 30 years later). We study hard and party harder. We Think Big Thoughts. We play our music LOUD, and we are going to change the fucking world. There is not a minute wasted in our lives. Not one. Continue reading “When Old Dreams Really Come True (#SXSW)”
There are many good reasons to paint each day. Here is one.
Charles, my husband and collaborator for most of the past decade, died on December 9th.
It was peaceful; he can rest now. Charles told me, more than once, what he wanted his epitaph to be, and I think he’d like that I’m sharing it now: “Here lies Charles Rieser. He threw ice at the clouds.” Continue reading “Charles”
Celebrated in Mexico and other lands, Day of the Dead was completely foreign to me until I moved to Austin in the late 90s. A full-on Yankee gringo, and I confess it struck me as a tad morbid for awhile there–a national celebration that includes everything from mad gravesite altars to skulls made of sugar. My tribe can’t quite wrap its collective head around doing more than placing a few solemn flowers by a headstone every now and then. Continue reading “Day of the Dead, Part 1”
But I wasn’t.