I haven't had much to say, lately, if only because I'd say the same thing, repeatedly. Things are moving along in the way that leaves slowly shift from green to russet or snow pack gives way to the dark earth. In two months time I should be getting settled in our new home. My wife is working on the internet issue, ahead of our arrival. Later this week I announce my resignation at work.
Announcing one's intention to leave NYC arouses subtle forms of defensiveness. If you've ever done so, you know what I mean. Leaving anything unsettles the shifting sands that conceal our doubts and talk of it is treated like a contagion -don't spread that shit around, just get out of here!
This is particularly prevalent in the art world of NYC, where proximity to finance and media underwrite the conceit of prominence, but on a personal level it's just the matter of whether or not your presence will help fill out an exhibit's reception, whether or not your support is localized. I understand, but it isn't worth the sacrifice.
Finally, when leaving one is tempted to do all enjoyable things one last time, but I've come to regard this as nullifying as much as it is virtually impossible. So, now, I see those who must be seen, and continue with my responsibilities, and attempt to finish paintings that should be dry before they get packed.