just this moment i'm wishing i could draw better. cynthia was supposed to draw for me but after friday night's craziness, the thought popping up and leaving my head and finally forgotten once we got home at 3:15 am or so, and getting into bed exhausted then deciding i felt too dirty and getting up and taking a bath and almost falling asleep with images coming from my mom at some point in my childhood with warnings not to lock the bathroom door, of slowly sinking under the water and drowning, i pulled the plug and counting on the lingering heat of the water on my skin got straight into chilly bed.
the first moment in a few days of mandated sitting in front of a computer in a quiet room (i'm working at the clay studio) and all i could think about was my stomach feeling emptier and emptier. now that i've started writing if i just keep it up i'm not thinking so much about that windy lining so this post could continue to lengthen in rambles of weekend.
the kids that just walked in are looking out the second story window onto 2nd street onto sunday afternoon, rather than at the tea sets and place settings. and there they wander out, the brief glances of curiosity.
billowy moving clouds and wind, bright sun turning to shade turning to sun, dark defining shadows when full sun so noticeable because the clouds are moving so much that the light is passing through many shades of brightness.
yesterday was mucho long getting up to take cynthia to the airport at 7, staying up to have coffee and meet laurence at 9 to go over to the achy obejas and ruth behar talk at ethical society. laurence drove his truck, blamed me for being late though it was equally his fault. i was trying to describe awhile ago what feels distinctive to me about being a passenger in a stickshift car--well for one it rolls forward once it's on and the emergency brake is released and feels quite uncontrolled at that moment.
oh goodness, what does hunger feel like? i can't really think how to describe it, i can't really decide if it's real or not. it doesn't seem like i should be this hungry. i had a big breakfast--made apple-cherry sauce with last of our fruit, two mushy braeburns, and tiny rounds of french toast with this roll i wanted to use up. okay there it subsided.
the talk was really interesting. i wish there had been more than twenty people there. especially achy obejas seemed like a really great person, clear concrete funny grounded in love. she told about going back and forth to cuba to be with her girlfriend/wife who refuses to leave there. one especially startling story: castro was going to attend the opening of this cuban artist's solo show. apparently the gallery where this show was being held had long been in need of renovation but its requests for things such as a new toilet had been ignored by the state. before the opening, a brigade came and completely refurbished the gallery--the floor, bathroom tiles, new toilet, painted walls. castro came, saw the show, drove off with the artist. shortly after, the crew returned and removed all the fixtures, including each little square of tile.
she also told about her father, who had refused ever to return to cuba, would travel many other places but not there. how she put it--he felt his life nearing an end, on the threshold of light and dark, and there were some things he wanted to do before it went dark. he planned this cruise with many members of his family, but not his children, that would go to three caribbean islands. near the end of the cruise the ship passed so near the shore of cuba you could see people walking there. he went out on deck and watched for the several hours that the island was in sight then he had a cardiac arrest and died before the ship reached shore.
went to lunch with the group at this really good colombian and cuban restaurant way north on fifth street near roosevelt blvd. everyone speaking spanish, i watched their hands and faces, wishing i knew spanish. then to this puerto rican arts and community center--it felt really nice in there--babies, kids, parents, people. then home for a minute and bicycle back to international house for more t-shirt/video selling and film watching.
posted by Liza 5.10.03