Milton Work

Milton wrote an elegy, Lycidas, after his most ardent period, six years in the making in pursuit of immortality. What he grappled with, well I have an idea. I've decided, in honor of a man still living, when someone asks why I am alone, I will simply reply, "because I am working."

Speaking of work. I'm getting ready for what was supposed to be drinks with friends in celebration of the fall and my birthday. The latter being a mere ploy to get my friends in one place - so I could hold on. After sending the email, I realized I wasn't that person anymore. Someone who celebrates. It made me sad for a second, though I do appreciate this more quiet me. It's not that I can't be happy, but I'm not sure about what I "really, really, really want." And if you'll allow me to be a girl for a moment, getting ready sucks. It's arduous. Do I become Cheetah Rivera tonight? Flash my maryjanes? Break out the red lipstick?

Running Woman 2

Nope. I still don't like it. I'm gonna shoot for a morning run very soon. If I can stop hitting snooze.

Homonyms & Such

I saw the movie Babel over the weekend, which was so gripping it woke me out of my after-midnight slumber. Brad Pitt doesn't know how not to be beautiful. He's even better aged. Like wine, I suppose. Before that was Lost in Translation and before that I was feeling (and maybe still do) like I can't find the right words. So I guess everything is linked & packaged neatly into this tiny little box called blog. Anyway, I thought about Babel as I watched Bebel perform the other night. She's a Brazilian New Yorker who apparently whispers in a very heavy mix of accents. I couldn't understand her or anyone else. There was babble in the Hall that reverberated. Growing louder as the songs got creamier. This music was meant to entrance and I stood lost in reality. Part of that reality, too, was knowing I was in Columbia's neighborhood. Last week, I finally went on an official date with him. I'm smitten, but have a hard time accepting that. In fact, it's starting to hurt, so I decided to let go. My timing is always terrible. He's too difficult to figure out. It's morning. Instead, I'd like to focus on Colombia. I'm going back soon. I wonder if they, the people I used to refer to as "my people," will accept me or will I be mourning.

what do poets do

with degrees?

just wondering, since i spent the day with one who every time i glanced over was deep in thought. and when he wasn't thinking, because i asked what was on his mind, too, searched for what to think next.

Char's Echo

If you fear rejection, then you can’t find acceptance either…

Freudiant Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Freud and his theories on melancholia versus mourning. In particular, this idea that when one experiences loss, you must detach from the love-object and find a substitute. There are other processes that happen first, but ultimately, the idea is to avoid a serious spiraling into the melancholia, which I suppose is very difficult to climb out of, but remains elusive even to Freud. I was wondering if I, and others, too, have in fact been successful at finding substitutes or if we have simply learned to live with this new strain of sad. Functioning, some of us, in society like sleepwalkers and everything is part of breathing.

Just Call Me Cheetah Rivera

I bought a cheetah print, 3/4 sleeve, A-line, v-neck, jersey dress, dollface... to go with my maryjanes, of course.

Here's To The New

Today, was my first jazz rehearsal with the pianist, S. I was apprehensive because S is a real musician. When not tickling the ivory, he teaches music. In any case, he seemed enthused about working with a new voice. That made me doubly so. Nightmares, like this morning's, about the dissolusion of the JB Jazz Project, have been ongoing. I sometimes think my creative endeavors coming to an end hurt me more than heartache & crushes combined. Maybe there's no difference.

Yesterday, my friend, L, drove a speedboat on her own for the first time. It was mine, too, as a passenger. We "sped" up to 25 miles an hour (hey, she was nervous) around the Jones Beach inlet. Considering my fear of gigantic waves and even bigger sharks, I was thrilled to be there. The best was falling asleep, then waking up to Captain L and boatman G arguing over how on earth we got lost. Apparently, all bridges look alike to us rookies. Being lost on the water is so unique. It takes great patience and skill to find your way. I gladly helped read the map and counted green & red bouys back to Freeport. More fun than it sounds, I swear.

Afterwards, we met friends for M's birthday. Us girls drank and hooked up (not literally) with two Canadian brothers. I allowed myself to enjoy the compliments of the younger one, who I wouldn't be interested in if it weren't for his hottie-ness and my blood alcohol level. Talk about shameless flirting. It was almost as freeing as my earlier excursion.

Lastly, the day before yesterday, was Rob Zombie's Halloween. Once again, I made a big production of what was supposed to be only a handful of people going to the movies. Can you blame me? It's Michael Myers, one of the greatest villains of all time! Truth be told, I didn't think John Carpenter's classic needed a retelling, but I suppose it's nice to be bold enough to offer something new in perspective.

Labor of LOVE

I'm a famous grape picker, you see.

Niagara

Yesterday, I went to my uncle's friend's brownstone for the Latif Annual Wine Harvest Party in the Upper East Side. The entire place is laced with a very tall grape vine, so we, the crew, plucked the Niagara on the roof and from the windows on each floor. 500 pounds worth! The bags of grapes got carried down by a basket & some rope. We weighed, washed, crushed, pressed, strained, added sugar, & an agent from a small glass bottle with droppers, etc... It's all very mad-scientist's-experiment, except the lab is actually a charming little, secret garden adorned with wrought iron & aged wood. Then the giant glass jars of grape juice were stored for future bottling and corking. Labels feature an ink drawing of the brownstone, but each one is painted in watercolor by whomever at some other gathering. In return the friend, who is Einstein's doppleganger, fed us breakfast, lunch, a delectable Middle Eastern dinner & wine from years past. This party has been going on for over 20 years, you see. It's quite a treat and really hard work. I felt useful. Like my hands were doing what they were always meant to. This is my 2nd time, so I suppose "Einstein" is now my friend, too.

self portrait

Running Woman

Day 2 of a mile run. 5K seems like an eternity. I still despise running (unless I'm chasing after a ball), but gotta help save those sea turtles.

the buzzzzz

Sometimes I’m so drunk with this intensity - electric or electricity - through my veins. It comes like a strong wind peppered with rain and is only partly erotic because there are often other factors equally moving in different ways. Rhythm, poetry, trees, downhill biking, the stars. My point is that regardless of what kind it is, I’m so lost in that whirlwind of buzzzz that I can, um sometimes, make really bad decisions. It dawned on me tonight as I ride another one out and take giant leaps. Now I can get there, to that place, fairly quickly, with great ease, and here I am, so you do the math.

These were taken in Long Island City on July 4th, 2007. Kinda looks like the vibe I describe... so poorly. This is much better. More precise :)

Something Fishy

I use this giant coffee cup for my fishies whenever it's time to change the water. Since Miles is all I have, I poured him with all his baggage of bacteria into the cup. Octavio always felt secure. He was a fairly mellow beta. Miles is a different breed though. Young & hearty. A real warrior. I scrubbed the rocks and the walls of the bowl. Then I filled it with newly conditioned water. I left the kitchen for a few minutes, I swear. When I came back, Miles was lying on the floor gasping. He jumped! I'm telling you I haven't trembled this much since my stint in Austria. I scooped him up with a spoon and dumped everything into the bowl. Now, of course, he's in shock, but alive.

In other fish news - Not having cable is fine, but when I happen to catch a commercial on real television of a must-see program, it sucks. And, no one videotapes anymore for my viewing pleasure at home, so my sister agreed to DVR (that means digitally record for all you non-techies) 2 on Discovery. "Ocean of Fear" about how some of the U.S.S. Indianopolis crew survived shark infested waters and "Perfect Predators" about sharks' 400 million years of evolution. It's shark week folks. Psyched.

I think I have a phoebia of the ocean. More like being stranded in it. Left behind. I almost drowned once when I was a kid, but I'm not sure that's the reason.

Miles isn't moving much yet :(

Downside

And then sometimes beauty is right next to your feet or somewhere just below the waist.

Today was hard, so bare with me.

Looking Up

I discovered that I like to stroll, preferrably on tree lined streets, while listening to jazz and gazing at anything up above, so that I can't possibly know where I'm going. Here are examples of what you don't always see.



Does that make me a daydreamer? I sincerely hope not. I like to keep that sort of thing under wraps.

All In The Shoes

I bought professional flamenco shoes for last night's show. I can't believe it took me this long. It's not that they made all the difference, preventing any mishaps on stage, but those darn black, stitched, leather Menkes shoes from Spain held everything together. My entire life, so that I could make mistakes without falling hard or giving up.

Char & Rice were there. I was elated. Then there were flowers that Char gave me for, you know, my "brilliant performance," blueberry beer at Canterbury, and a full moon. All I remember. It's early.

Michael and Me

I invited Michael and her beautiful mommy to my company picnic. Mommy needed a break, so I pretty much took over for most of the outing. We sat on a boat and sailed around the Peconic River. Considering what's around the bend, a great big bay, the trip was tiny like my 3 year old guest. He sat on my lap and I pointed at the different birds. All I really knew were swans, Canadian geese, and the osprey, but even then I couldn't tell the latter from a hawk. I glimpsed at the kind of mami (espanol) I would be. I know I'd be intense in the way they should be. Anything for the little ones - a duck and her duckies in single file. Oh, and we saw them, too. Being close to Michael, or anyone (shorter) who calls me "Aunt B," is strange. That includes Ricky and Lucy, my sisters doggies :) I feel loved and a desire to protect, but I don't necessarily feel the need to bear. I'm not sure what that's about... or maybe I do.

We watched all kinds of fish swimming with sharks in the Atlantis aquarium. I wondered where their mommies were. Maybe they were all just adults and wondering.

Telenovela

I'm trapped in a g*d damn spanish soap opera! I mean I've got at least 3 good books in me & yes, one of them features Fabio on the cover. Maybe I was a f*cking prairie dog in my past life.

Ok, I'm done venting.

Friday the 13th Fun

I bought 3 new plants. Is there a name for my addiction? I spent almost 50 bucks. The sad part is that no matter how much attention I give, many of them wilt. They must be male. Anyway, my latest flower pot is covered in the most beautiful, blue chinese characters. It's for the new pilea, which supposedly doesn't need direct sunlight. I got plenty of low light spots here, so we'll see about that. After dropping my new friends off, I headed to the 42nd Street Pier. I actually danced on a boat (!) to this amazing tropical, tribal, garage house music while sailing around the island. Little Louie Vega, a hero of the Nuyoricans, was the MC and spun a delightful set. It had been so long since I went out dancing that I people watched mostly. I tried taking a picture of Lady Liberty, but it was difficult as the sun had already disappeared into the river. By 11ish, we headed back and the buildings did their creeping up toward the sky. Randomly lit windows formed patterns that seemed to flash like something you'd find at the brains of a computer... like maybe where the memory is. I never thought the Hudson could turn into silk, but it did. I got home at 2am. Early for some of my crazy friends. I was glad to be home, though, and pretty much disappeared under cotton sheets.

I just finished repotting my plants (today) and took care of the older ones. Miles is fed, too. Now I wait for Char, so we can be so lucky.