'irish i were drunk'

this weekend will be the celebration of st. patrick's day, with a parade on monday. i been told that there is no parade like it in the world. i'm tempted to believe it. a good friend of mine here from the states married an irish man. i believe he is from outside of cork. they live here now in new york with 5 children. i thought who has 5 children anymore. they do, and really they are gorgeous children. the beauty gods have been kind to them.

well, i find this funny. my friend called me up one day a bit upset. she had already handled the 'situation' but she just needed to let off some steam. one st. patrick's day weekend her husband asked her if she could drive into the city saturday night. it would be late and he wondered if she could come and pick him up.

now mind you, she would be at home with the 5 kids, not as free to hang out and party for the st. pat's weekend, and he would be out drunk with his friends...

she said to me 'he's the one out partying, why do i have to drive into the city at 3 in the morning to pick him up?' she told him 'take the subway!' (subway not metro, and runs 24 hours here in new york). my friend's husband, kevin, looked at her in all seriousness as said 'i am going to be soooo drunk, i won't even be able to make it to the subway.'

love that story, needless to say my friend did not think it was funny.

hope u have a wonderful weekend!

be kind and rewind...

i had an incident which reminded me of the first time audrey hepburn and carey grant met, though the outcome was not as lovely. yesterday while reading in a cafe i accidently spilled my beverage onto a stranger's off white suede jacket! can you believe it? it was one of those moments that seemed to happen in slow motion. i saw my drink slide off the table, suspend mid-air for a moment, before settling on said stranger's jacket before finding its way onto the floor. i wish i could take back that moment, rewind and have a different outcome. but i guess it just doesn't work that way. i jumped from my seat to apologise to mr. stranger but i felt as if words could not fix this moment, though i wanted to so badly. i did apologise sincerely, searched nearby for napkins to wipe up the mess. since we were strangers and i had obviously pissed him off i did not dare try to touch his jacket. i was stunned and could hardly speak. mostly and sincerely i was sorry this had happened, and i said so. he was deeply angry. he was steaming, his eyes and body language reeked of anger. but mostly i could tell because he completely ignored me. he did not look at me at all, nor respond to my words. he completely ignored my existence. i supposed at this moment he thought i was the scum of the earth and he treated me so. there was no communication, and i did not know what i could do to try to make it better. it occured to me later that night while still obsessed with the situation that maybe we could have traded contact information and i could have paid for the cleaning bill. i didn't know what to do.

i told m. about what had happened. i needed to talk about it. m. said 'forget him if he does not want to acknowledge your presence, then there is no opportunity for communication. what are you supposed to do then??? these things happen. life happens...'

breathe... i had to let this one go. i could not undo it no matter how sorry i was.

this reminded me of the time when audrey hepburn and carey grant met for the first time. they agreed to meet at a certain cafe in paris, it was just before they were to make the film charade together. audrey, while waiting for carey to arrive ordered a glass of red wine.

shortly after, carey arrived wearing a white suit.

well he is carey grant, and what else would you wear when meeting audrey hepburn for the first time in a paris cafe? well, she was so nervous to meet him that when she stood to greet him she tipped the glass of red wine that was on her table all over his suit. without missing a beat, he removed his jacket, folded it across the back of his chair, and continued with their meeting. grace is in abundance probably more often than we think. i would like to remember that.

speaking of grace, i sense the wintertime is giving way to springtime. this is the natural order of things, no... funny how we, or least i am reluctant to let go of summertime as autumn presents itself. but when spring is emerging i am excited and eager... spring is on the way and i must admit i am waiting with an open heart. normally i walk around the house in my socks...

for some reason i don't care for house slippers. i feel more free with nothing on my feet in the house. but baby when it's cold outside i am forced to at least where socks when i'm inside at home. i've learned to know the seasons are changing because unconsciously i'll start to walk around in my bare feet...

like i did this weekend. we had heavy rain storms and i snuggled in on friday and saturday. still i roamed around bare foot unconsciously. when i noticed and counted the days 'til spring, only 10 remain. sweet. the flowers are pushing their way up as we speak...

indeed it has been an interesting weekend. hope you and yours are well.

a moment in time

while spending some time with my french studies i read a petite article about the venus de milo. it brought back a lovely moment for me. once while standing there in the louvre, looking and lost in the moment at the venus de milo. i was entranced, just trying to take in this world famous historical work of art. a little girl was standing near as well with her mother. her mother was trying to explain to her daughter the significance of seeing such a beautiful statue. the little girl stood quiet for a moment and then she said 'but mommy, it's all broken...' i smiled to myself and thought, it is isn't it.

some pretty things...

flowers galore, can you imagine? Dali dined here often and has been quoted as saying that the owners of this restaurant on the east side of manhattan 'throw money out the window and it comes back to them through the door.' from what i read it is a space of beauty and fine french cuisine. i always like to peak now and then into the rooms of 'the haves,' just to see what they are up to. and this space looks divine. the owner is at new york's flower market every morning at 6.30 in order to purchase an abundance of flowers to adorn the family owned restaurant.

the story of how it actually began is a sentimental one. the father, as a young man worked on cruise ships as a part of the service staff in the restaurants. as he was a way from home often working, so many years ago, his wife leased a space and wrote to her husband asking for a name of the restaurant, and as a hint that he had to come home to create it. all was a complete surprise for him. but the wife simply wanted to figure out a way to have her husband home more often and near her. the son now owns and runs the restaurant. just thought it was a nice story for a pretty space that seems to be in the business of food (which i adore), beauty and quite possibly love, which inspired it all.

while on the subject of pretty things...

'when i was a young perfumer...'

not everyone can say this about themselves. nooooo, i'm not a perfumer, but there is something eccentric about it. the idea that perfumers actually exist, whose job it is to create scents. sweet! i read an article about 'la osmothèque,' a museum of perfume in france. the writer wrote...'writing formulas as composers compose symphonies,' while referring to one who creates new perfume scents. it seems as if the museum is a space to discover and rediscover scents that have seemingly disappeared. why is this interesting? i suppose it's not very, i just think that it is fascinating that there is a space dedicated to scents. it is thought of as an uber-chic intellectual sephora. a playground of perfumes, if you are into that kind of thing. i am, sometimes. not often, but sometimes...

i have a perfume that i like very much. i don't wear it often. i guess somehow subconsciously i think to save it for special occasions. it's pretty and soft. but i think the better part of me knows that every day is a special occasion. so i'm thinking i should sprinkle some on a little more often. i love it when i'm out and about and someone walks by me and they just smell divine. just a nice soft scent that inspires. i could be that girl...

musings around town

i have a little secret that i have been keeping to myself, that is i have been giving private english classes. i have only kept it to myself because i was not sure how it was going to work out. but the classes continue. they take up a tiny amount of my time, just a few hours on the weekends, but they are finding a wonderful place in my heart. let me explain. i tutor privately 2 brothers ages 9 and 10. going into this gig i thought it would be a nice way to help and pick up a few extra dollars to allow me to indulge in my museum, tea, and film going fixations. and this little gig is turning out to be more than i imagined. the basics are, they are two boys who have been living in new york for 6 months. they are attending a private school and all their classes are in english. so they have to navigate learning to speak english while keeping up with their studies. can you imagine? children continue to fascinate me. they are doing it. in six months they are almost fluent. the thing is just to iron out a few kinks here and there in terms of prononciation, writing, and learning new vocabulary words. i try to help them with their confidence as well, so that they can be a bit more secure when in class and hanging out with their friends. i think because they are 'into it,' that is, they are really interested in learning, it is a really enjoyable experience for me. aside from asking them to put away the nintendo, i have no real discipline issues. oh... their sweet mom sometimes makes tea for us and brings it to the study, i do have to hide the sugar because they literally will eat sugar rocks out of the jar like it is candy. so i'll let you know as time passes of the incredibly delightful things they say and do, sometimes we are in the room just laughing as we make our way through their lessons. yesterday boy l. tied a multi colored blanket around his neck in his efforts and performance to explain to me what a 'cloak of invisibility' is as we were reading harry potter and going over new vocabulary words. can you imagine?

change...

while living in madrid, one young woman said to me something that i thought was incredibly interesting. she is from paris. it was during the last u.s. elections 3 years ago. she said 'the whole world should be able to vote for the u.s. president. it is an election that effects the entire world.' wow. an incredibly interesting point. is change on the horizon? i sincerely and deeply and profoundly hope so. can we talk about a basic decency, respect... and do we go as far as honor in u.s. relations with all people both at home and abroad. that is a change i hope to see...

saw some art this week

i wonder if i will ever be able to talk about art intelligently. mostly all i can see is what i like and what i don't like. i like the work of this artist, aaron douglas. many of his paintings are from the harlem renaissance and they are his reflections on african heritage. i tend to like the soft colours he chooses and the way they can blend into one another. in addition his paintings inspire a curiosity about a culture i know very little about. i suspect when africa is good, it is really good. one young french guy said to me that there is no better living than the living in africa. i feel confident in saying, he must mean aside from the numerous tragedies that we hear about. and even still i have heard that in the face of tragedy, that when you are there, the people have such hope and faith that it is incredibly uplifting. it definitely seems like it is something one has to be in the midst of to know. those who have, share stories of hope and inspiration. courageous i call them...

i had no idea that my transition into the next idea that i wanted to share would seem so frivolous. that is, going from ideas of art and happenings in africa to ... film. forgive me, it is not my intention to be insensitive, just sharing a series of ideas...

this film

leaves me at a loss for words. i went to see it because i been told by many folk 'it's really good but it is incredibly violent and disturbing.' i've waited to see it because i was thinking that i could do without 'incredibly violent and disturbing,' and in a way i was right. as i watched the film i thought there are plenty more pleasing doings i could be up to. with that said i was there, and i had paid my money, so let's see where this goes. the coen brothers have a way of creating the most bizarre, albeit interesting stories. the film is well done, interesting, startling, and strange. it's good but... it's a tough film to watch. javier bardem delivers another 'fine' performance. some folks think that the main character kills because he just likes it. i tend to disagree. i think the character has some twisted sense of honor and ethics. like when he breaks his arm and convinces a kid to give him his shirt for a $100. the kid at first is reluctant to take the money. bardem encourages him to take it, it's just the 'right' thing to do. the kid gave up his shirt, he should be paid for it, even if the money comes from a man all bloodied with a broken arm who will pay that much money for a shirt that could easily cost $5. but that is not the point. and i think that is the one intriguing thing about this movie. in the midst of all the drugs, killing, confusion and fear it does encourage one to ask the question, what is the point, whether in the middle of a film or in life.

growing up

my mom was born in Georgia. i was there as a baby, but i don't remember it. i hear parts of it is beautiful. i always feel like i have grown up with a sense of a mix within me, that is, a sense of what is thought of as a southern gentility mixed with being a city girl. being my mom's daughter, there are some southern terms that i like very much. one word is 'grown folks.' of course this refers to adults, but the southeners have a way of saying it as if it is a special club to belong to. i have always been a curious one, one might even say nosey. but i like to think of it as a genuine curiosity and a love of learning. (smile)

when i was little i used try to listen in on the conversations of my mom and her friends. i remember being at a loss when they were all excited when marvin gaye's new 'album' sexual healing came out. i remember so well all the ladies in the living room dancing around singing the lyrics to sexual healing. i had no idea what all the excitement was about.

when my mom caught me hanging around (though i tried to make myself invisible) she would tell me that i was not ready for 'grown folks conversation.' i always had a feeling that i was not there yet... of course. when i got older and listened to the lyrics more intently i thought... ohhhh ... i see...

that said, these days i have been thinking more and more about being a grown up. you see i have never really thought much about money. i always thought 'do what you love and the money will follow.' well i love hanging around reading and writing. but until, and unless my hopes and dreams of being a writer by profession (sharing my secrets with you) comes true, i do have to be more intentional about making money. thought i'd take a little venture out of my dreamfilled ideas of living and have a look at life in a more 'material' kind of way. so between my search for new work and my studies about money i have found that my ability these last few days for writing has been stifled a bit. maybe because my time and energy has been given to other things besides my writing. thus my not haven written for a while. but now i try to push myself back here so as not to be gone too long. i think what i am coming to understand is that a life of being a grown up does not mean that we have to abandon the things we love, in my case, dreams of being a writer. and at the same time, while dreaming and trying, i do believe a balance can be struck, and i hope to find that balance. this is just a long way of saying or coming to understand that grown folks can have fun too. i've written here before that my mom is a single mom. she raised 4 children alone. the rent was paid and food was plenty, the basics were met. and there was still time and desire for dancing with her friends to the tunes of marvin gaye. i hope in my own way to strike a balance with the necessary and responsibility of the 'real world' and my dream world. that is, a sense of harmony between that which brings me pleasure and that which just has to be done. know what i mean?

curious kernels

there is a thing about me that even i myself find curious, simply because i have absolutely no idea where it may come from. that is, fine design leaves me breathless. i don't think that it is a materialistic thing because i rarely feel like i want to have or own that certain object once my eyes fall upon it. the mercedes benz has for quite sometime been one of those 'things,' i am even tempted to say a high end mercedes. i am hesitant because i know absolutely nothing about cars, i don't even know how to drive. but the ones that are sleek and elegant i suspect are quite expensive, all quiet and catlike in their existence.

i began thinking about this as i saw on television the other night a comercial for the new 'mac book air.' stunning! i could only look in disbelief. how did they do that? so slender and special, i can think of all the poems, essays and stories i can type into that little sweetie. does it come in pink? in case you haven't figured it out, pink i adore.

i also have a little thing for fine watches. don't know what it is. and i must confess 'a fine watch' is something that i would like to own someday. which reminds me of an idea i heard during an interview with the actress shari belafonte. she is an actress and model in her own right, and the daughter of the actor harry belafonte, though i haven't seen her around lately. during an interview it was suggested to her that she must of had a lot of expensive 'things' while growing up, her being the daughter of the famous and well to do harry belafonte. i remember her response although it was many years ago. it struck me as a kernel of wisdom. she said she did not have a lot of things as a child. in fact she had very few things, but the things that she did have were well made and of quality material. she had one coat, but it was a really good coat, she had one or two pairs of shoes at a time, but they were good shoes. i like very much this idea. many of us are privileged in the sense that we mostly have all we need 'materially.' i was thinkin' that i would like to make better choices with my purchases. okay i'm not going out just these moments to buy the new mac air book, nor a spanking new mercedes. but i must admit, a fine watch is on my wish list...

little girl prayers

my mom is a 'single mom.' when we were kids she worked nights, getting home around 11pm. she's retired now and i hope she is enjoying her retirement. she worked in a bank. my friends used to tease me, saying what kind of bank is open until all times of the night? i tried to explain in my little girl 'business lingo' that she worked in the part of the bank that clears checks. when people are doing their banking during the day, someone or someones have to process the bank stuff over night. my mom was the manager of this division, and to give her credit 'her employees' loved her. she was able to get the job done with a helpful and kind demeanor.

thing is, she had to return home late at night, riding the subway and walking through new york streets alone. we had to be in bed before she returned home; trained in how to prepare for school the next day, as well as be in bed by 9pm. before going to bed i used to pray and in my prayers i asked God to walk with mom and help her to get home safe. she always did.

when folks ask me if i believe in God, i'm hesitant to answer. i believe, but i'm not sure what they mean by God. i am almost always sure that we are talking about very different ways of believing. Einstein, when asked if he believes in God, answered 'depends on what you mean by God.' but that's a discussion for another time and place... but i love love love the idea of a God that listens to the prayers of little girls.

'dear God, i need help to get my hair washed and get out of my pajamas.'

'big girl prayers!' some days ago i wrote that i was blue, some days later i wrote that i went out in my pj's, there is a connection, though i had not realised it. Carl Jung shared 'she does not become enlightened by an imaginary figure of light, but by making the darkness conscious.' if we can become aware of that which makes us blue, then maybe we can be on our way again...

during one of those days, through the tears, i sat and began to count on my fingers just what was 'going right,' as opposed to focusing on what seemed to be going wrong. the blues began to lift, my little stomach bug flew away, and i just began to feel better. i read this morning that in times of despair we tend to close ourselves off. and the thing is, if we feel small, then do little small concrete and affirmative things; laundry, cleaning, writing... 'i am at the page and it's calming me. i reach for words and my reaching is a tiny prayer. God can find me here...

they say don't give up 5 minutes before the miracle...

listening this morning to the sweet voice of carla bruni... http://www.carlabruni.com/

having a nice cup of tea; as i like to start my day. writing. planning to take the little journey to visit my sister and family for thanksgiving dinner. putting up christmas lights, i know it's a bit early but i love them so, why wait. yesterday while walking by the waterfront i thought if i can walk, and i have food and a space to call home, family and friends are feeling pretty good, then things aren't as bad as i thought. still sometimes we do get down and we try to find our way back up. my little girl prayers still work. things are good again.

tell me a story...

pbs, channel 13 here in new york is my favorite televsion station. now i know it is totally uncool to be talking about television these days and the evils in connection, but i do indeed love pbs for its educational and cultural programs. oh! and the delicious british mysteries. a nice cup of tea and a british mystery; i'm undone. ...another cool thing about pbs, probably the coolest, is that it's where i began to learn to read while watching sesame street as a wee one. i remember when my mom went to take my brother to kindergarden, my little sister not yet born, i sat alone and watched sesame street, learning my abc's and piecing together letters and sounds to form words... b + ook ... book! by the time it was my turn to go to kindergarden 'the powers that be' moved me to first grade directly. they said that i had already learned all that they would teach me in kindergarden, that is to begin to read. ...been there done that! but what about the nap time?! i still feel a certain longing for never having the privilege of nap time in kindergarden. i think i'm still trying to fill that void. como se dice 'siesta' en ingles?

whew! just a long (and i hope interesting) way of getting to these two lovely prima princesses. i learned of them last night during a program on pbs (not an advertisement for the station, just giving them their 'props!'). the sister ballerinas immigrated from Cuba and have carved out beautiful illustrious careers in boston and san francisco in their respective premier ballet companies. for me, it is an inspiring historia of the intense work, dedication and courage they have in carving out an interesting and inspiring career. ...the laws are a bit confusing for me as to when and if cuban-americans are able to return to their homeland. can't imagine what it must be like not to be able to go home. m, a friend from bulgaria lived in cuba for 7 years. people in madrid always wondered why she spoke spanish with a cuban accent. back here in the u.s while she was doing post doctorate work, it was amazing to watch the wonder in a cuban person's eyes as they probed her about their homeland. as many details as she could remember please, they wanted to know. if she could be their memory for them, for they were unable to go home again.

... learning to read, sesame street, cuban prima ballerinas ...if you tell me your story, i'll tell you mine...