one and a half years after my last visit, I realize it's time to come home.

Nothing ever gets thrown out at our home in Florida, not even the forever torn welcome mat.

Somehow I grew up here.

She birthed me. And she's amazing.

My old room. I was obsessed with pop art.

When I was in high school, I used to go to bookstores and spend hours looking through photography books. There was one that stuck with me all about bored couples. I never saw the book again, but when I walk by cafes and see two people eating together, staring out at nothing, I wish I had purchased it. (The link to Martin Parr's pictures is the closest I could come to finding the book.) Here's my own series:



This one of my parents is not staged. (Beautiful, right?)

Warm Florida rain.


Dad loves to play Scrabble with mom and me.


ye olde beloved dictionary.


Almost three hours playing one game of Scrabble. Mom wins (as always) with 213. I came in with 192. Dad trailed behind. (For his dignity, I won't report the score.) Tomorrow night, victory is mine!

At Graduation, Wayne Brown Said, "In The End, All We Really Want Is To Belong."

Jess and I walked to Harvard Square and had Italian Ice Therapy.

Sunny summer skies.

I asked Kate (Cate?) how she could stand being Billy's mentor since she's probably on constant cute overload. She refused to comment.

Because Jen and I are the same person (I'm the louder version of us), we must own the same clothes. She bought our new favorite tank top and my red skirt (but I copied Aimee with the skirt, so Jen can't be blamed). How will I live without my other me by my side?









Dear Joan Didion, Please speak at our graduation for free next semester. You changed my life. Also, can I move in with you? Thanks. Love, Jen

First time I ever took a picture that looks like a book cover. Couldn't you see this on the front of Virgin Suicides?

Looks sweet and cute, right?

A little over-stimulation goes a long way. Rachel Manley went to town mothering me and lecturing me about cat scratch fever. She insisted I use antiseptic and she wanted me to pour white rum over the cut. The extremes we go to in order to get our mentors to pay attention to us!

Abbey/Abby take over camera duties. Who knew they were genius photographers?

I adore these two chickadees.

Sepia Sunday.

I was trying to get Abbey to take pictures of Elaine Mar. She's so fierce. An amazing writer and the only mentor that saw my scratched hand and said, "I told you so!" and insisted that she didn't care. It's love.

I guess I'm a harsh critic.

Abby, an enigmatic angel.

Last supper.







Buki and Michael bestowed advice on us, "Finding a supportive friend in this program is the most important thing you can get in your time here." (Or something like that.) Plus, Michael told me I'm adorable! And he's adorable! Such a love fest.

Endings.




I was a prisoner because the night before I went home early. What you're witnessing is utter exhaustion. And perhaps fear of closure.

Until...

almost but not quite there

The residency is almost over. No classes today.

You have officially gone through the residency journey with me. Thanks for taking the virtual tour.

The plan today is to roam around with friends, read, write, do writerly things (too secret to mention here).

Tonight Buki is throwing a graduation party. Should be fun to catch up with folks.

Many of my friends will not be at the residency. I've grown attached (as is my tendency).

Tomorrow I'm headed back to New York.

Books: Mysterious Skin by Scott Hein, Stop-Time by Frank Conroy, and Jailbait by Leslea Newman

Music: Just My Imagination by The Temptations and Sometimes I Don't Get You by Yo La Tengo

(pics of the inappropriate hugging and the antm modeling care of jen. chaney told sara that she is twins with germany's winner of antm and it's gone to her head. can you blame her?)

Sometimes you can't take a picture of the moon.

posse.

The student center, where our small group workshops take place has this freaky bulletin board with weird blurbs like, "don't drink and drive" and then directly to the right, pictures and words like "flip flops" and "hair dryer." To top it all off, there are bloody rags stapled to the corners. I think they were going for some kind of Red Cross theme, but after staring at this for days, I couldn't stop thinking that in my life, not forgetting refers to the Holocaust. I borrowed a Sharpie and added "The Holocaust" to the board. Brian was tickled.

He called me, "trouble."

He wants this to be his next bio pic for his next book.

And now a look at some of the food I enjoy while educating myself.

At the beginning of the week, I worried that I hugged a mentor for too long. I may have accidentally rubbed his back in the moment. Abbey reenacted the movement, which is now universally symbollic for: inappropriate, creepy stalker student, the mentor I was hugging, and Gili's a freak.







Sara and Gili's talk show (aka workshop hogs). Example: "What do you think, Sara?" "I'm going to go with you on this one, Gili." "I don't know, Sara, you've got a point." On and on and on they go.

Jen practices a different camera face.

Buki relaxes after her reading. Diva!

Sara attempts to teach me an ANTM face.

"Gili, stop talking, you're making me panic!"

Pay attention to me, pay attention to me.

Happy birthday, Christine!

Our usual camera faces. Jen commented, "If we put my cheeks with your chin, we'd have the biggest face in the world." Don't I know it?

Billy, my surrogate mommy.

mingle

mingle

Marjorie, my default therapist. Love that woman.

sleepy gi

How much is that dress in the window? I do hope that it is for sale.

two wise women