She sells sea shells.

I just got a note from a framing shop in Brighton, England. They have my Musical Chairs tea towel, a limited edition from third drawer down, framed in their window. And it's getting plenty of attention.

I went to college there for a spell in my third year of college. Exquisitely painful memories of the wind passing right through me and cold baths, an exacting tutor with purple eyes.. and then the thrill of seeing Steven Berkoff in a car whizzing past, learning to etch with acid and goose feathers with my giggly friend from home, Clark, and hiding in my sketchbooks. I learnt to relish the ballast of English life and the relief that comes with making work. I think of those days when I hear the songs of Peggy Lee, see a rickety pier, or a shimmering silver patch on a grey sea. 
I have every intention of making this into a print and sending it off to sell by the seaside.

Waiting for the Postman

I am hovering in great anticipation. Waiting for another longlost cheque so that I can continue living. Living in my place, with the lights on at night, making art in my Red Hook studio, eating my greens, dialing out.