In real time

Missing Spain, and this room where I slept at the home of my friends.

In real time

Outside sticky hot, the air inside is cool--at peace, feels like I could sleep ten thousand nights.

Thoughts in real time

When you're learning about someone else, notice how much you're learning about yourself.

Observaciones de Nueva York

On Cristian's last day, he tells me the reasons he loves New York. The public transportation, the architecture, the racial diversity, and the peace and kindness of the people.

In real time

Hot day outside, a practicing classical trumpet plays under bad Spanish radio, and I feel acceptable and accepted, lovable and loved.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed I saw a tiny baby bird caught in a web between two trees. When I went to release it, it became a big green frog stuck inside a seaweed-like casing--and it morphed into an enormous fish with a hook in its mouth by the time I set it free.

In an alternate reality

I can play.

Confession

This morning I feel unsuccessful, unattractive, unacceptable, unaccepted, unlovable and unloved.

Starting now

Birthday image #2

"Flalas" from my brother Mike. For more info, click here.

Meaningful gifts

Me: "Thanks for the necklace Dave, does the design have any significance?"

David: "Yeah, it's the ancient Babylonian symbol for get a job."

Recent pix

Stop in the name of love

Tonight as we were driving home from dinner, I spotted a cop car signaling me to pull over. Two officers got out, told me I had a broken headlight, and asked to see my license and registration. While I rummaged through my purse and glove box, the cops walked alongside the car, suspiciously inspecting its contents--namely Cristian, David, Lulu and Annie. I handed over the documents and the two returned to their squad car.

As I studied the officers through my rear view mirror, we all talked quietly and wondered why such intensity over a busted light. I mean it's true, we're not in Kansas, but we sure as hell are not in L.A.. All sorts of stories started running through my head. Maybe the U.S. Embassy was after Cristian because he extended his stay, maybe Annie resembled a girl in a poster. I even questioned myself if I had drugs on me, which made no sense since I don't do drugs.

Just then Officer #1 approached me with a big smile on his face.

"Why didn't you say it was your birthday?!" He shouted gleefully while handing me back my papers. "Nobody gets a ticket on their birthday!"

No, I thought, we're not in Kansas, and we're definitely not in L.A.--we're in New York, the greatest city in the world and for me, there's no place like home.

Sitting at the sidebar

Loosening my laces today--something fun and ridiculous by the Violent Femmes.

Birthday image #1

Although there will be a proper celebration tonight, Cristian thought I should have a birthday cake close to the actual time of my birth. So just after midnight, he went to the bodega and brought back my favorite with vanilla ice cream.

46 years and 23 minutes ago...

I was born.

Happy Birthday, me!

Three missing keys to my life

The one to my mother's front door, the one to my brother's place on the Cape, and the one that opens a mailbox I almost never use.

If found, please call.

I like to live in America

Last night Cristian and I went to an amazing Broadway production of West Side Story, and tomorrow we go watch the Yankees beat the Oakland A's.

Just add art

Regardless of the economic status of the characters in a film or the struggles they face within the context of their stories, things always look good on screen. A tenement apartment becomes a place to call home, and someone's pain can resemble a favorite Bob Dylan song from your youth. This happens of course because of the crew supporting the internal and external lives of the characters. Someone has given thought to each thought, feeling to each feeling, positioned a camera toward a foot in a tub, and placed the resulting image under the magically altered sound of ordinary bath water--a sound that somehow makes what's real, realer. Before the cameras roll, someone has spent days searching for the pale yellow sheets used in a scene's carefully lit, desolate room, and after the cameras are packed away, someone is writing music to tell the story even better.

Last night after watching a movie, Cristian brought my mattress into the living room so we could both sleep by the open window. As he dragged the heavy bed from one room to the next, I lay on the sofa and appreciated his tenacity. It was the eleventh day of his visit and the fourth day I'd been homebound with a fever and swollen glands. This was not what I imagined or wanted, this was not the way it was supposed to be.

I opened my eyes in the morning--my throat was still raw and I was still weak, and I knew it would be the fifth day I would not partake in all we had planned. I thought about the tickets we had for tonight, I hoped I could go. I wished I felt well enough to make breakfast or boil milk, anything other than this. Then I saw the fan spinning above me, and my red painted toes tangled in pink sheets. I heard a siren, a passing truck, a disruptive flute and a coughing man--and beside me lay a visitor from the other side of the world.

This is my life, I thought. But this could be a movie.

Too funny

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Long Island Wants to Secede
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Joke of the Day

In an alternate reality

I am her, there, now.

In real time

Happy at home with fever and soup, while the French Argentino gets lost in the greatest city in the world.

The Great Lawn

For 3 more, click here.

The mix

Last night there were two editors in my apartment, one video designer, two theatre directors, one Tai Chi master, one fashion designer, a psychic, an astrologer and a computer science teacher/3D artist.

Gather

Click here for pictures from tonight's party at my place.

Gift

Saturday began a five-day stretch of sublime summer weather. On Monday, two hours before sunset, Cristian and I strolled along the boardwalk at Coney Island and looked out onto the Atlantic. Later he confessed it was the first time he'd ever seen the sea.

Paparazzi

Yesterday--The Half Note spotted famed blogger "Runnerfrog" picking up fellow blogger Annie Kosh from camp.

Today

Cristian had his very first peanut butter and jelly sandwich. An hour later, he had his second.

Manhattanhenge

Tonight the sun set in the west, perfectly positioned in the center of 34th street. It was odd to see so many people not notice the rare event as it unfolded before them, but Cristian noticed.

Click here to learn more about the Manhattan Solstice.

It's no secret

Tomorrow morning at six, a South American visitor comes to stay at my pad.

In an alternate reality

This was my high school boyfriend.

Have you ever...

... been so inspired by someone's artistic ability that it actually hurts not to be able to tell them?

This is actor Roger Rees.

In an alternate reality

These are my sisters.

Grateful

For my loneliness, and for music.

Thoughts in real time

I miss Annie's toddler hands.

Fact #990,771

I find it impossible to dislike anyone when they are eating an ice cream cone.

In an alternate reality

I live here.

In an alternate reality

I'll be in Virginia by noon tomorrow.

Thoughts in real time

The hole in the ozone layer or a hole-in-one, the game at Wimbledon or the devastation of war.

Who's the authority that decides what should be important to people?

Sitting at the sidebar

There was no purple sheet or checkerboard tile, but as I was cleaning my apartment today, this piece of music compelled me to lay on the floor and cry.


Click the music player to the right of this post to hear.

In real time

Back to blogging--bunch of bug bites on my belly.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed that after several nice lesbians unsuccessfully tried to convince me to give up men, I boarded an elevator that was going up.

Fact #46,886

I lived in New York City in the early 1980s and these were my friends.

I'll fly home

Four days ago I sat in my apartment, and on the fire escape outside my window I saw a white dove. I watched her for some time, pulled out my camera, but quickly realized she could not be captured.

Three days ago I was in Cape Cod and saw a baby bird, too young to be away from its nest. She was hopping across the street through traffic, so I picked her up and placed her by a tree in a garden. I imagined her mother finding her there--I held back tears and rushed away.

Two days ago I was by a pool and found a dead sparrow that was knocked out of its egg by a New England storm.

Yesterday I was in a town called Mystic and fed millet to a bright yellow parakeet that sat perched on my finger.

Today a breeze blows through my window, calling me to look out. I listen to a song called Destiny and the white dove has returned. This time I take notice, this time she looks at me.

While I sit with the slight and familiar discomfort I feel when my child is out walking alone, I know better than to hold onto anything. I know better than to try and capture the breeze, or my child, the past or this moment, or the beauty that sits on the fire escape looking at me.