What's in a Name...

That sign. I'll never forget walking into the red room and seeing that name, bigger than life, right outside a very-dirty window-- huge window, at that. And the man said "welcome home." I'm not sure I feel at home there, but I feel as if it's one of my comfortable havens. After he left I went over and slid that huge window open. I could have reached out and touched the sign. I could have touched the name. I should thank the Art commission. Or maybe tax payers?

But there it was. And while I was there, I couldn't exactly figure it all out--no better than I can at this moment.

I'm reading Virginia Wolfe's essay "A Room of One's Own." I wonder if I will make a connection? Are there really coincidences? Or is there no such thing? Are these affairs of daily life a paradox or a phenomenon? Are they whispers from angels or just hiccups from spirits? Do circumstances form in a moment? Or are they detailed plans of the gods, complete with cross-reference and footnotes?

I have no idea.

I do know that Heath Ledger was there at one time.
What a--coincidence?
Or, what difference does it make?

Amber.

Right now it's so hot outside. It's dark, at night, but it's still almost 90 degrees. I've never stayed at the Chelsea when it was really hot or really cold, so I wonder what these halls feel like in the extremes. I never noticed if the halls were cold or hot. They must be moderate temperature, because I'm sure I would have noticed. All I do know is that most of them have muted light. And now, in the days of eternal heat and light, I would love to spend these long hot afternoons in that secluded hall or in one of the darkened, cold rooms.

PS...

I was actually going to do Art a Day for a month. I started. Two days later? Nothing. So I kept it going for one day.

How depressing.

Heat. July. Unhappy...

I can't believe it's been so long since I posted in here. I can't believe how much time goes by and I don't seem to get anything done. I know there are things I've done, but it's not enough. It's never enough. But what exactly is "enough?" I've done things. Is my self judgment too harsh? I think so. In fact, I know I don't need to change what I do, but instead, change my judgment of what I do.

It's baking hot today. July has truly arrived. I haven't posted the page to July in Grove of Seasons. How can I not get one page done a month? What do I do all the time? Why don't I actually get things done, instead of all the middle things done? Nothing is finished.

I'm posting this amazing photo from the Hotel Chelsea, taken on an amazing, cool night...rain. Glorious rain. If we have another heat-ridden drought, with blaring sun, 100-degree plus weather, and a plethora of BUGS, I am going to lose my mind.

I'll just sit in Chelsea dreams until October.