A Book of Days
I haven’t been writing much. This grief process is a process, and sometimes I feel as if I’m walking on the edge of a dark pool trying not to look down, pretending it’s not there. Some days are completely fine.
The year ended by getting Covid, a mild case, but seemed a fitting end to this year, along with the rain. The rain is needed, I will never complain. I also love the clouds among the green hills in LA in the rain, and imagining we’re suddenly in Ireland or Costa Rica or some place more verdant. Though Los Angeles has a lot of foliage, and a lot of green, much of it is desert and the shades of beige and brown can overwhelm. The water and the green quenches a thirst. I’m always amazed how quickly the hills spring to life, and what was parched and brown becomes lush and inviting.
Last month through the wonderful Aloud LA series from the LA Library, I got to see Patti Smith read from her new collection, A Book of Days, which is curated from her instagram account. I came late to Patti Smith, always thinking she was too rough for me in some ways, with her reputation as a punk. Her music is spectacularly alive, though, and now I’m a huge fan. A friend gave me a ticket to a concert several years ago at the Orpheum, and I was gobsmacked at her presence and what she does. She’s a poet, an artist, a live wire, and truly herself. In this age of self-creation her self exploration and being, to push the thirst metaphor, feels like a cool drink of water. She is all substance, which makes the style. There is a presence and joy, and nothing forced. She is serious and light hearted in an effortless way that can’t be faked.
So, in the spirit of her art, and creation, I just wanted to write a little tribute to the book. It’s not everyone who can curate something like that and have it retain interest. I’ve decided to read a page a day, maybe even as a writing prompt. It’s reminding me a little of a book I love, The Mysteries of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg, in which he has a drawing with a single caption and you create the story. Art as a spur to imagination. This is reminding me why it’s a refuge. It might be fun to use each day as a prompt to write something yourself about each image.
On another note, so many people have recommended Anderson Cooper’s podcast on grief, All There Is, and I finally felt ready to listen. In line with Patti Smith’s forward of what social media can do if used well, this podcast illustrates how the form can pull us closer together. We all will lose those we love, we all have to figure out how to make sense of it. His willingness to explore this, and to ask others about it, is beyond admirable. It’s healing, too, and quenching in its way. Take a listen.
