Author: Stacy Horn

Thank god, that’s over. Let’s see what today has to offer.

Meanwhile, I took a picture of one of the places I used to live. I’ve lived three places in the last 30 years, all within blocks of each other. This is the first place I lived when I came back to New York from Boston — 230 West 11th Street. That’s in the village, which I’ve never left. I lived here in the top floor with my husband. Then I moved (alone) a few blocks down on the same street. Maybe I’ll take pictures of the other two places today. I loved this place though. It had a fireplace, a skylight in the bathroom, and wood floors with very wide planks. It had a country feel.

Oh, and we had access to a beautiful church garden. I should scan photos I took of that. I went nuts photographing that place. I was a photographer when I first started out as a working adult and that place was all wildflowers and overgrown, and not perfect and ordered and cultivated. It was enchanting.

From Today’s New York Times:

Gospel of Judas’ Surfaces After 1,700 Years
By JOHN NOBLE WILFORD and LAURIE GOODSTEIN
Published: April 6, 2006

In this version, Jesus asked Judas, as a close friend, to sell him out to the authorities, telling Judas he will “exceed” the other disciples by doing so.

Hello?? It’s Judas, remember? Of course he’d say that. Yeah. “Jesus made me do it.”

I woke up from the nicest dream, something that isn’t true in waking life, so I woke up to this awful feeling of loss and disappointment. Which seems to be clinging to me.

THEN, I remembered I have a rather significant birthday coming up.

Sigh. I could list all the things I have to be happy about, but sometimes you can’t deny the things that suck, and there’s nothing like a really nice dream to cut through the denial about the suckiness.

Why do you gotta always be putting that camera in my face, woman?? Can’t you see I’m trying to nap here?

PS: Thank you to everyone at the Special Collections Library at Duke University for the lovely card. It truly warmed my heart to get it. Thank you.

Thank you Michelle, for the YouTube pointer. I couldn’t figure out how to email you or I would have emailed you to thank you.

Speaking of thank you’s, thank you Alaska (I can’t find your name, forgive me) for reminding me about this poem:

ON THE DEATH OF A CAT

In life, death
was nothing
to you: I am
willing to wager
my soul that it
simply never occurred
to your nightmareless
mind, while sleep
was everything
(see it raised
to an infinite
power and perfection) — no death
in you then, so now
how even less. Dear stealth
of innocence
licked polished
to an evil
luster, little
milk fang, whiskered
night
friend —
go.

From “God’s Silence” by Franz Wright, copyright 2006 by Franz Wright, published in arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House Inc.