"The subject does not pre-exist. It emerges out of the interaction between the artist and the medium... between the subject and the object."

Good morning, Vermont.

Hi. It's amazing to wake to you.

I slept for eleven hours, a kind of sleep I have not slept in months--definitely not since 2010. And it was glorious. I had my cards read before I left New York, and the card reader said that I'd start getting real rest when I left, that this move would be good for my sleep. And it's pretty fucking thrilling that, day one, that's starting off true.

Now I am sitting in my childhood bed and there are birds out the window, and a cool breeze coming in, and the sound of the trees moving slightly, and the sky is grey, but a beautiful grey, and the only other sound is my fingers on the keys (and if you've ever been in the same room as me, typing, you know that sound is pretty loud).

Next I will get up and shower and take the dog to play. I will eat something and then go to a yoga class that the neighbor up the hill teaches in the studio on the top floor of her barn. It's walking distance, but--this is not New York, and I no longer have to agitate my injured foot just to get where I want to go, and so I will drive. And then I will go to the post office and the dentist, and then back to Charlotte, to read and write and eat dinner with the fam and my parents' friends who are coming over. Real vacation, if vacation means a vacation from my entire life, including my dearests.

The torment of yesterday as I anticipated leaving has abated for the moment. I am not missing anything or anyone. I am not longing for something that is not here. I am just here, just letting this be the day and this be the adventure and knowing that you all whom I love will join me on it at some point down the line.

Good morning, Brooklyn.