Red Hook

I went to Red Hook.       Change is what kept me. I've always been afraid of it. Something so arbitrary, yet essential. Inevitable really. It is more like reluctance than fear. Waiting by a window for it. That anticipation. The smell of winter. The budding bloom of color in Spring. I look at my dying plants, because there is never quite enough light, and the thought of ending it, possibly changing the landscape makes me uneasy. Maybe it’s the letting go more than the change.        I went to Red Hook.         Thoughts of change. A city of change. Constant. Moving around like yellow cabs or sleepwalking city dwellers. Stop and go. Stop. Go. Thank G*d I’m here and not there. That’s too much change, too fast. I let go all the time. Honest, I do. Getting used to that was never easy. Not with all the dried flowers in my room. And even that kind of change is palatable. The easing into. Slow moving change. Candle wax and sandy scrolls and ever-changing patterns in the sky.        I went to Red Hook.        I hated not knowing. So I went. Maybe they’ve changed? And what if I haven’t? I’m still here while they rotate right along with everything else. Or what if I’ve changed? And my change is just plain different. So different that going no longer matters and you end up with nothing but letting go.        I made it to Red Hook.        I realized it didn’t matter. I have changed, but was willing to rub up against theirs. Fearless. Letting go, but also taking in. Just my thoughts that kept me. Too much thinking. Something worse than change. I got there and was hooked. Like the red of a flower still standing up straight. I got there and was hooked.

A Twang To My Chord

I saw Tom Stoppard tonight and listening to him was more
like a perfectly tuned F sharp than a "twang,"
but the remark itself was one of many
wonderfully witty ones.

A Past

Recognizing the past is always a struggle for me. Perhaps because in the present, the past seems to come from a better, more productive place where there is no alone. As if then, I knew less, but cared more. I was watching myself as a child in a home movie my dad insisted upon. In those days, the 70s, my "artistically inclined" uncle studied film. And so there is endless footage of expression and movement from our family and his friends. Not really a home movie. This particular film, myself as a child, was really about my parents on a motorcycle. They were in a gang. Hippies with a sense of responsibility and desire to succeed in the land of opportunity. Success, of course, meaning a home and an education. But my parents were young and still learning. They rode motorcycles and listened to Zeppelin. My uncle intended to capture their lifestyle. The film itself was silent. Sound erroded with time. In this scene, the one I saw, mom and dad kissed me goodbye. I watched from the alleyway as they got on the bike, strapped on helmets, and rode off into the sunset. For that moment, my uncle kept the camera on me. I stood there with an aunt, a year older, and a childhood friend. We waived, but I wasn't smiling. I stopped. They, the two delighted little girls, continued to waive and as the camera focused in, I blocked their arms - I looked down -
For that second, past becoming present.

Darth

Vadar says happy halloween



and enjoy the dark side people.

Boy Discovery

Wow. The boy called. He learned something, I think. I hope. I'm dumbfounded. Great. Now I have to tell him it's over. I mean, um, I'm not interested, but yeah, it was really great meeting...yadda, yadda, yadda.

Boy Disaster

I called the boy. I kept my word. It was pouring out, so I couldn't concentrate because my hands were on the wheel. The boy kept asking questions. He's not really my type, but the attention felt nice. The first thing I said was, "I just wanted to call because I said I would and it was great meeting you and - " Boy talks too much. Turns out he plays bass. I tried again with, "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that it was nice meeting you and well, I think it's - " Coincidence, we both go to school at night. I began again, "So I think it's best that - " Nope, didn't get it out then either, but I did spell my name out for him. Lets just say my call was a disaster of sorts. Oh yeah, he wants to go on a date. With any luck he learned nothing from my attempt to keep my word and will just completely bail. Ha!

Boy Dilemma

On Friday night, I stopped by a bar in Long Island where my friend's band was playing. I wasn't feeling particularly great about being in public just because I was tired and thought it was noticeable. Who wants to socialize with some tired girl? Once I found my friends in the audience, I woke up a bit. In fact, I actually had a Bass and a Lemon Drop, wo! We watched the Mets get slaughtered on tv, chatted, listened as singer/songwriter, Glenn Geiger and crew, rocked the melodies. Anyway, it was almost time for me to leave when some dudes walked in the bar and came straight toward our group. One of them immediately started asking me questions. What's your name? Do you live around here? Would you like a drink? It was all very smooth and I just smiled demurely. There might of been a little eyelash batting action, but it certainly wasn't a typical reaction from me when approached. Then he asked for my number. I avoided the question. Once I realized that was just silly I said, "I'm much older than you." He's 23, by the way. "No you're not" and "Age is just a state of mind" were his responses. So I said, "Listen, I'm 35." Not even a flinch. He countered that with a, " my last girlfriend was 37." Now, the boy lives out east, works as an electrician, talked like a player, most likely is a player, but the fact that he was unphased, um and easy on the eyes, was refreshing. He asked for my number again. I said, "How about you give me yours?" After some more attempts, he finally caved. He wrote down his number on a napkin and made me promise to call. I did and even said I was too old not to keep my word. Yikes, dumb move. Now it's Sunday. I'm still tired. I have the wrinkled napkin resting on my coffee table. What to do, what to do. Mind you, I have no interest in dating a 23 year old, but I promised one phone call and can't stand when boys flake on girls. It's just so immature. So I ask you, my blogger friends, do I call or just let it lie?

Review: A Trip To Canterbury

Snap Dragon and I, Blue Violet, met in Huntington Village yesterday evening to celebrate our fabulous 25th (plus 10) birthdays. To do so, we decided to journey into Olde England. We were on a quest for her fine cuisine and knew just the place. We walked into The Original Canterbury Ales shivering. Being seated in the coldest corner next to the wooden saloon doors didn't help. It did, however, add to the ambience. We could almost hear the galloping horses, and the carriages, and the jousting, etc...

Now it's important when looking over a menu of this caliber to plan ahead. Snap Dragon and I were well aware of their secret weapon - dessert to die by a sword for. I meant to order light, but Snappy has a big firey belly and I am not one to be outdone. She ordered the Buffalo Canterburger with Canterbury Chili, fries, and a glass of pinot noir, the alcoholic. I love getting tipsy myself and beer seemed appropriate. Unfortunately, I was sniffling. A reprieve was best. I also figured that in the comfort of my own bed, I could "wine taste" without worrying about driving, the alcoholic, too. Anyhoo, I ordered the Young Squireburger with cheddar, nothing better, and the killer fries.

As we perused Canterbury's delights, we admired the Common Market section with such classic dishes as Fish & Chips (I've had this. Yes, it's fresh, greasy, & delicious), Scottish meat pies, Ploughman's Lunch, and Scottish Bridies, which is basically a meat turnover. The Beefeaters Section, for the "snappier" types (who order wine at pubs), included English Brown Stew, Shephard's Pie, Steak & Kidney Pie, Prime Rib, etc.... The House Sandwiches section, usually considered food for pansies, tips it's feathery hat to Mr. Chaucer himself with names like The Prioress and The Pardoner. I've had the Lady Diana (sauteed onions, mushrooms, garlic, on a kaiser roll - heaven) Lastly, but not leastly, were the Canterburgers. We like our meat cheap... or cheapER, anyway, than the Beefeaters. And they don't mess around with hearty meals like the Archbishop's Squireburger, Archbishop's Canterburger, and of course what we ordered, which was jolly good. The meat was meaty and cooked exactly how we wanted. The vegetables and fruit (tomato, hello) were fresh. Oh and the fries were fried in potato slices, as they should be. Sidenote: if you want to go the extra mile, try their sweet potato fries. Yummmm.

After all that eating, we did our best to make room for the ultimate birthday gift. It was totally sinful. We ordered Marianne's Toffee Fudge Brownie and Marianne's Raspberry Fudge Brownie. These desserts are so rich and smooth, you feel like a Queen...or King... or Queenie. Marianne is a real person and makes these treats from scratch. "A worthy woman," as Chaucer would write.

The place is a pub and damn it I'll have the beer next time. The service was excellent and everyone is friendly. In fact, two older gentlemen saw me trembling and one offered his coat. He insisted I wear it around my shoulders. How chivalrous. Some of the windows are stained glass and the rest of Canterbury is all wood. Worth the slightly higher price on the menu.

The Original Canterbury Ales gets 4 out of 4 pints from Snap Dragon and Blue Violet.

At The Movies

I was dreaming about the movies today. The role they play in our lives. How we are drawn in. Why certain stories resonate. And I wanted to be that someone on screen. Finding resolution the way most characters do. To project that feeling you get from a good one - the wishes of never fading to black.

My Friend, the Chip Eating Monster

F Zero

Speaking of weather, yesterday an F zero tornado hit East Massapequa, Long Island. It was predicted, at first, that there was a possibility of one forming in Manhattan, Bergen County, and the Bronx. Then television showed us a funnel cloud on the Doppler Radar or some other fancy machine. It was nearing Queens. You can imagine my delight! The day did go dark and at some point it was thundering rain. Maybe even hail! But then the sun shined as if it had been there all along. So my little storm headed east and spun it's mighty wind and I just waited for more rain and more wind.

Someday...

Fair Weather

I think fair weather friends are much like erratic storms and wonder if I have been like this to anyone. I bet it’s difficult to see clearly since that one lazy eye is covered in a world of agendas. I know I’ve got mine. Still, what's troublesome is that there are too many wrecking what we build and I can’t hold onto something securely with my shoulders up against the walls, so there is nowhere to rest my head.

X

Last night Los Angeles ruled NYC.
One of my favorite punk bands played
their aging little hearts out
and put the city youngin's to shame.
Last night I wanted to be a rockstar...

in the form of Billy Zoom, Exene Cervenka, John Doe, or DJ Bonebreak

Rock n roll!

Eagle Eye

I saw a bald eagle perched on a tree from a reservoir. We were close to Woodstock, but I couldn't tell you exactly what town. She was 2 feet in length and had a 5 foot wingspan is all I really know. Her expression seemed pensive and maybe they just look this way. Facing the water. Head held high. Alive, yet focused. Looking beyond the horizon. Perhaps wondering about a lost love or her nest and lack there of.

Off the Mark

I got a phone call today from my friend, "Mark." It happens every so often and I do welcome the chat. I've known him since I was 8, I think. A long time. We flirted, rode our bikes, played shark, swam in the river, went on camping trips, watched "The Dukes of Hazzard" together every Friday. It was interesting to grow into adulthood & discover that nothing had changed. We were still goofing around like a couple of prepubescent kids. So I never understood why, when we kissed, because that did happen once or twice, he never took it to the next level. I say he because I was willing to try. We enjoyed each other, so I know it might have been wonderful. I wondered why until I got tired and bored and moved on. Yesterday, when "Mark" called, he wanted to revisit this "issue." Why? I'll never know.

Six Degrees

This weekend I saw six very important men in my life. Three of them I love unconditionally, always. Two I loved at one point or another. But because of the way things go for us “sensitive folk” and because people must change, or maybe - more so - I changed, it was bittersweet. The last I fell in love with years ago and for whatever reason, this one resonated. Seeing him as a complete stranger was rather strange. I didn’t expect to feel relieved by my remembering that feeling. I was.

Sol Y Sombra

I lucked out last night. Of course this is a conclusion I'm making after the fact. I did my first performance of the year with the Sol Y Sombra Dance Company in Huntington Village. What made this experience special was being billed (my name) on the program this time. I suppose dancing in 4 numbers instead of the usual 2 had a little something to do with it. I'm not quite sure what to say. My nerves were relentless. We had to be there at 4pm for sound check. That's 4 hours of pacing, applying makeup, pacing, prepping, putting on my poker face, and pacing some more. It was painful. The rain never came, which would have meant cancelling the show. I guess, in some way, Mother Nature knew what I needed. She brought in the sun right when shade would soon follow. I felt ill. Then of course I actually fell. It was during rehearsal for sevillanas - an old traditional flamenco dance from Sevilla that is typically done with a partner & castanets. All the musicians asked me if I was OK. Try "yes, but my ego just jumped over a cliff." Anyway, the worst had passed & it could only get.. sunnier. By curtain time, I had forgotten all about fear & sunnier arrived. Aside from the occassional misteps & flowers flying out of my hair, I made it through unscathed. My family showered me with compliments afterwards. They took it a step further by saying some of their friends, whom I've never met, thought I was the best one. Ego boost? Check! Even if they were biased, it's what I needed. The best part was the salsa piece we did with a little flamenco peppered throughout. I had a chance to showcase everything I ever learned from the salsa queen herself, my mom, since I was like 3 years old.

The whole day I had made up my mind to give up dancing. The stress wasn't worth it. Truth is I really wasn't "the best one," far from it. But I felt alive. And I just can't say no to alive.

Review: Fiona & Damien

Last night I went to go see two very different performances. First, Damien Rice. A straightforward, honest, bare-your-soul type of show. There was a lot of electricity, so he rocked out, sang a lullaby, then rocked out again. An amazing guest vocalist, Lisa, who gave Fiona a run for her money in the sultry & deep tones department, a cellist, a kick ass drummer, and the bassist stood on stage. No backdrop, no cool effects, no sharp threads. I was smitten. Then came my dear Fiona. She's so lost. I kept waiting for paramedics to take her away in a straight-jacket. Then I thought a group of priests would storm in from the Vatican to perform a very special exorcism. She was breathtaking at times. There were moments of pure brilliance. But something happened once she crossed that very strange line. It got awkward. The edge of insanity is usually occupied by geniuses like Bjork or Iggy Pop, but a Ms. Apple? Hmmm... All in all I had a great time. I still love her, found a new love in Damien, and became inspired. That's a damn fine time if I do say so myself.

A Pocket Watch -

Since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted one. I thought enclosing a watch into a little round metal compartment meant controlling time. The idea that time could be kept hidden appealed to me. That it was tangible and vulnerable. That maybe it could be stopped! There was also all this history, or so I imagined. Like maybe a pocket watch belonged to someone very special, someone from centuries ago. I figured the mechanical ones (of course) would never tick endlessly and haunt me when I was typing, rubbing my chin, riding a bike, painting my nails, or any other ordinary activity that might become a reminder of time running out. It would simply sit in my pocket until I was ready. Time waiting on me for a change. Clearly, I didn’t know what pocket watches really were… that they were even more magical.

My father’s side of the family is planning this huge surprise party for my grandfather. He will be 80. Someone in our pretend 10-person committee (only 5 of us are doing all the work) suggested the gift be a wrist watch. I pulled the “head of the committee,” my uncle Nacho, to one side and made my case for the pocket watch. Majority has ruled for it. Finally, I’ll get to see an heirloom in the making for someone who’s been around a long, long time. Ah, yes, someone very special.

Noche Flamenco

Flamenco embodies everything that I am. If you really want to know me, watch a gypsy glide and with one swift move take your breath away. Ok, so maybe I don't have that kind of presence since I am a bit clumsy and bubbly, but I'm tellin' ya I can migrate (figuratively speaking) like there's no tomorrow.

On a more serene note, I sat in Central Park on this very still night and watched "Noche Flamenco" by a small company of musicians and dancers from Spain. I'm completely rejunivated. Tomorrow when I stand with the other girls in class, I'm going to dance with some... class.