Where the West Commences

May 10, 2013 § Leave a comment

Ucross

I learned the other day that I was accepted into Ucross, an artists’ colony in Wyoming. Four weeks in beautiful country (late August-September), four weeks with my own writing studio, lunch delivered, dinner cooked by a chef…I can’t wait for the cool nights, the billion stars, the smells. Will I get any writing done? Who the hell cares! But, yes, I will. There’s not a whole lot else to do other than wallow in nature, and there’s only so much wallowing I can do in a day.

I wish I could bring Fitzroy—he would love it so much—but no pets allowed. No husbands either; I can live with that. I’ll have to bring my own chocolate and coffee (I’m picky) and get used to not being online whenever I want.

I’ll say it again; I can’t wait to lie outside in the dark, in the immense quiet, looking up at the sky. Mornings and afternoons will be beautiful too, but it’s the nights I’m dreaming of: moonlight, shadows, a tickle of snow on the breeze. It’s been too long since I lived in the country. I dreamed about my old house again last night, the same dream I always have: we’re settled in for the weekend, spreading out, when I start to think: didn’t we sell this…? How can we still be here? Very similar to dreams about dead people where you’ve having a nice chat and then remember…damn…

Next year: Yaddo, Macdowell, Latvia. Latvia? Yep, I just read about it: a writer’s colony of one in a boutique hotel in Riga every summer. Kind of lonesome, but I guess that’s the idea. Swamp the writer with Balkan ghosts. Make her run up huge hotel tab, Russian vodka. Maybe she’ll never leave. I bet they wouldn’t care if I brought a cat.

Don’t Fence Me In

Oh, give me land, lots of land, under starry skies above
Don’t fence me in
Let me ride thru the wide-open country that I love
Don’t fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evening breeze
Listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever, but I ask you please
Don’t fence me in
Don’t fence me in

Just turn me loose
Let me straddle my old saddle underneath the western skies
On my cayuse
Let me wander over yonder till I see the mountains rise
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
Gaze at the moon until I loose my senses
I can’t look at hobbles and I can’t stand fences
Don’t fence me in
Don’t fence me in

Give me land, lots of land, under starry skies above
Don’t fence me in
Let me ride thru the wide-open country that I love
Don’t fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evening breeze
Listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever, but I ask you please
Don’t fence me in
Don’t fence me in

Just turn me loose
Let me straddle my old saddle underneath the western skies
On my cayuse
Let me wander over yonder till I see the mountains rise
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
Gaze at the moon until I loose my senses
I Can’t look at hobbles and I can’t stand fences
Don’t fence me in

–Cole Porter

Advertisements

Tagged: , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Where the West Commences at Mostly in the Afternoon.

meta

%d bloggers like this: