Saved By The Bell

Yes, the universe has a bell.

I laughed when I suddenly realized I was writing now because I had lost everything.

Well, not everything; I can still walk and talk, I can still think and feel. By everything I mean most possessions, a home, income, the ability to travel, drink well, paint, sleep in our own bed — that kind of thing.

In 1980 I was advised by an astrologer that I was meant to write, so I better get crackin’.

But I dilly-dallied. I had a comfortable life in the hinterlands of eastern France, and I had a practice of making large paintings up in the big attic. We had guests, good food, friends and pets and a beautiful home.

It was traumatic when all that was ripped away due to financial fraud, and for almost five years we were disoriented and attempting to start businesses that failed from simple ignorance and naivete’. Questions arose of what we could do to recapture some semblance of a normal life, meaning having a home of our own. Being able to pay for rent.

We’ve gotten more accustomed to living a stripped-down life now, and wonder why people need so much extraneous stuff that they take for granted — the kind of stuff we used to take for granted.

So where does writing come into this? Writing seemed to come on the scene when nothing else presented…