Leo 7°

I think the Glow Festival in Cambridge was a success. I know it wasn’t in any way lucrative—that neither we nor ART broke even. But it was a vibrational success. Though I haven’t had a word from ART so I can’t say they feel the same. I have asked for final numbers twice now but haven’t received them—to be honest they’re probably trying to figure out how to mitigate my loss over there’s. We shall see. Despite what I said the other day—I’m fickle—I really enjoy working and creating in Cambridge—I know we can cultivate audiences. It just takes some creative work and engaging those who were truly over the moon about it all. We have a great friend in Boston in Brian King and the people who surround him are super nice and warm and lovely. I am looking so forward to talking to Brian about the next iteration of his show. Meanwhile I have a ton of ferry rides to offer Boston people to come to Afterglow next month.

Was so funny cuz the day we left Cambridge for Portland we were feeling kind of strung out and we stopped to get some gas and I replaced the nozzle and got a receipt and Stella was like how about we reset and start again, from this moment on we’re going to be unhurried and detracté, one two three, and then a man in a diabetes mini bike zzzzzzzz’d in front of a car. We had to wait at least five minutes to start driving it was too funny and the timing too good. We have these friends called the Newlands who, wherever they go, bad weather, literally dark clouds follow. We’re not them. Our vibe isn’t so much gloomy as absurd or just plain ridiculous.

So we headed to Portland and my nerves were really working up. Along with psychic ability I inherited from my Pisces mother a fear of bridges. Not an irrational fear in my estimation, but a very real one as, if my neuroligcal state is not in a state of relax, going over bridges morphs from barely tolerable to almost impossible. Jon Krackhauer the neurologist whom we know from Provincetown as he is a friend of John Dowd’s once said, when I said I used to have migraines as a kid—bad pain and “auras”—but that at some point it switched and I had no more pain in my migraine episodes, but I still got the aura, and he asked: Do you have a fear of driving over bridges? I was dumbstruck. Apparently certain migraine sufferers (my mother, me) have this affliction. And let me tell you it is no fun. More on that sometime.

So we got to Portland which we are sort of exploring as an option for an entrepreneurial nexus. We have always loved it. If we were said to have a honeymoon it would have had been there. Or some sentence like that. I love it in the fall and spring. Winter is impossible and summer sees the city suffer from boaty people who hang near the wharf, listen to live yacht-rock, and get drunk; while the city center is filled with drastic hippie homeless creatures, all tattos and piercings and cut off flannel and dogs and beards and weed and beer and oy yoy yoy yoy yoy. It was hot, it’s August. And the city just bummed me out more than ever. There was a ton of construction all of it ugly and one suspects is being built by the four loud, bragging assholes eating lunch next to us, talking about their projects and tenants, while we are trying to eat our delicious Thai Food.

The first day of arrival we did the on the nose thing and had lunch at Eventide. We had a reservation at Fore Street, one of our favorite restuarants on the planet, for nine pm; but by the time seventy thirty rolled around we were sipping beer and wine at Union and decided to just stay and eat. We stayed a a new place for us, the Harbor Hotel. The room was actually great but everything else about the place seemed off. The second day we had that Thai lunch and tooled around the Eastern Promenande before high-tailing it to Islesboro, more rested and less nervy than the day before with the bridge over Portsmouth New Hampshire.


Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

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