Savoring time

On new routines, writing advice & an L.A. artist

To my friends & readers who used to receive my newsletters on a different platform: Yes, I have finally moved over to Substack. I’ll continue to more or less do the same here, though I’d love to hear from you. What do you especially enjoy? What would you want more of? In the meantime, below is my little update (somehow, my first of 2025).

In January, I got my MFA. It wasn’t a journey I expected to embark on, but I’m very glad I did. I came away with a more vibrant reading life, a regular writing life, and, meaningfully, a community of people who feel like my people. (Below, a pic from my graduate reading.)

I’ve been going through the notebooks I kept during the two years I spent at Bennington for my program, highlighting bits of wisdom from my advisors and fellow writers that I hope to remember and return to, like:

“Ten of you is better than one of you. Write in multiple sittings.” — Craig Morgan Teicher

“We write toward a whole without knowing what that totality is.”— Jenny Boully

“When we’re bored, we’re not creating, we’re transcribing.” — Shawna Kay Rodenberg, on creative nonfiction & memoir writing

These notes and quotes help ground me and are reminders of what matters to me. I’ve also gotten back into the regular habit of writing in a notebook again, physically jotting down ideas and thoughts as they come to me, rather than believe I’ll remember them later (another repeated bit of advice I heard at Bennington). Below are some of the books I loved reading & rereading during my program.

Since school has been over, some time has opened up. I’ve been trying my best to take this time intentionally, rather than let it easily fill up with my day job. I’ve started cooking and exercising, both things I’ve always had little patience for and that still don’t come naturally to me. And this year, like the last, I prioritized travel with friends, the joy of sharing open-ended, relaxed hours.

Time is a gift. This was my deceptively simple takeaway from my recent conversation with the artist Takako Yamaguchi, who at 72 is finally getting institutional recognition for her arresting paintings, which range from multicolored seascapes to closeup portraits of busts and hips. I spent a few hours with Yamaguchi at her Santa Monica apartment where she graciously opened up about her life, about how she feels like she doesn’t belong to any one place, even though she’s lived here for the better part of 47 years. I related to her fascination with oceans, her love for second-hand clothes, and her hesitation to acquire furniture. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that we share these impulses and proclivities, but I was left wondering if they’re part of some lexicon among people who’ve long abandoned the idea of home.

This year, I also wrote about my family’s luggage indulgence — the pleasures and pains in moving and lugging one’s things around — and about my attraction to and longing for stillness.

I’ll leave you here with some things I’ve recently loved:

The Anthropologists by Ayşegül Savaş, a book that beautifully explores themes that are top of mind for me: what it means to make home as a young adult, especially as your family is far away.

Sally, a movie by Cristina Costantini about the first female American astronaut to go to space. It’s also about the balance of love and ambition, and the devastating shame Sally Ride experienced as a gay woman.

Diana Ross, dressed in red and gold, singing live at the Hollywood Bowl.

Dahlias, the papery pink ones.

Thanks as always for giving me your time.

From L.A. with love,

Elisa