Aspen--No John Denver Here

I left LA this morning at 4:00 AM, the hour of the day when the roads were eerily empty. I was too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to feel much of anything but just sheer fatigue. I am here in Aspen attending The Aspen Writer's Conference. The conference is being held at a large property called the Gant, which is a series of condominiums strung together around a common pool that is dirty with cottonwood flakes. The hotel, for some odd reason, had upgraded me into a large suite, one with a fireplace, kitchen, living and dining room. I was too tired to ask why, nor did I really care. It feels like I've spent the past month being shuttled from place to place, this place just another in a series of rooms, places where I've had to unpack my much used suitcase. I truly feel like a vagabond now.

Our temporary housing in LA now bears the mark of a life in transition. What few clothes remain, we've packed the few into awaiting suitcases. These past few weeks have been such a whirlwind, making it impossible to truly process the myriad of emotions I feel, and will feel in the coming months. We said our final good-byes last night to my adopted mom. As we drove away from her home, I found myself sobbing inconsolably. There is no way to delude ourselves into thinking that this move will not change each of these special relationships that are so specific to place, time, and now a part of our past.

Those that will fall away from the proximity to our lives are already fading into the background. It's a subtle thing that's happened, and will continue to happen as the months gather, where our relationship to life in LA becomes a part of, not just our immediate past, but our past altogether. There is a clearing of the bush, as some would say. Bush, debris, clutter, all of these words for things that gathers in places, taking up space, most unnecessarily.

This conference is the perfect bookend to this transition, something I've felt building for some time now...the prominence of my writing life and my work. I had found it difficult to focus in LA, the cacophony of life there consuming me to the point of inertia. I always understood why I busied myself with so much commitment to other things, causes, friends, lunches, outings. These diversions were the excuse to why I wasn't able to work, when in fact, the truth was much more complicated.

This blog has fueled me to write. None of it is brilliant, none of it original. Yet, it has refocused my attention to my writing, to write every day, to think about writing each day, and to allow the space in my head to think, to mull, to obsess over those things that eventually will help your book, essay, short story or poem along.

And all I can say is "amen," to a new surge of energy about my work. It has been too long of a dry period.