Monday, December 27, 2010

Reconsidering suicide: a little penguin shows me the way

(from Werner Herzog's Encounters at the End of the World)

home

Kathi taught me visit the beach at 4 a.m.  It was good to learn to wait for the sun with her. She showed me how to bathe under a meteor shower one night and she never mind that I stayed up late talking to her husband about Nixon and Henry Kissinger. Kathi also taught me how to smoke pot. I didn’t know how to smoke regular cigarettes, so learning the fine art of getting stoned proved to be quite difficult for me.   I was a shy and an uptight girl so to release the “I” from the cage, Kathi had to play Girl by The Beatles.

Now, listen. I want you to follow the rhythm of the song and after each time  John sings " aah, giiiiirl" I want you to inhale long and hard. Got it?

At the end of the song I was flying.

It became routine to have The Beatles’ music playing on the background whenever I was at Kathi’s house. She sensed I was lost. She used to tell me that a Beatle’s song would always take me home.

Tonight my husband sleeps. I want to sleep and dream with him, but my thoughts and worries keep me awake. I already played Norwegian Wood and I me Mine over and over.

I want to go home.

(Kathi...I'm sorry I can't take away your Parkinson's Disease. I'm sorry I've never been a wise kinda of a friend)

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Sugar Cookies

Are we conventional?

I ask my husband as I bake sugar cookies.

Depende, he says.

He expands on the definition of conventionality in a long Spanish narrative.

My ADD brain starts to wonder.

I wish I could speak Spanish like him. I stick my finger in one of his words.

Mantequilla.
Azucar.
Canela.

Sprinkling cinnamon on sugar cookies is conventional, I tell him.

But going to bed at 6:30pm is not conventional.

Ven.

We lay next to each other.

Tired.
Sleepy.

I turn on my side and grab Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee.
He falls asleep.

I start crying after reading four pages.

I close the book.
I reach for his hand.

I’m asking the wrong the question.

Friday, December 17, 2010

May I please I have a side order of blue pills?

I argued with the sales clerk for a while. She had neglected to give me the drugs that came with the Disneyland tickets. I was freaking out. Thoughts of being inside the amusement park with Sleeping Beauty under the influence of REALITY terrified me. I wanted my blue pills!

Just look at the fucking video!!!  You'll see that you only gave me the tickets!

I woke up. It was only a dream.

p.s.

My husband and I went to Disneyland last year and hated it the experience. However, we had a good laugh too. I never had a craving for blue pills until this dream.

(I can't claim to be a Traffic fan, but I love love love this song. I also like Mr. Winwood's face here. I want what his lungs inhaled)

Monday, November 29, 2010

Xalapa, Veracruz

Llegamos cansados a Xalapa. Era noche y hacía un poco de calor. Xalapa parecía la prima de Portland, Oregon, pero con shorts. Llegamos a una posada de esas hippiosas donde yo me hospedaba cuando tenia 20 y algo años. La verdad (y me da vergUenza admitirlo) ya me acostumbre a los 4 star hotels. Creo que me voy a ir al infierno por gustarme las botellitas de shampoo que ofrecen esos hoteles y las toallas limpias y ah, la maldita plancha. No se como pude vivir a lo raugh and tough cuando era mas joven,  quiza la media tonelada de marihuana que consumía me ayudaba, no se. Ahora que no consumo ni un miserable joint pues me costó trabajo dormir tranquila en esa camita de dos estrellas.  Eso si, dormí bien abrazadita de V toda la noche.  Cuando V se caso conmigo me prometió protegerme de los psycho killers, republicanos, itchy bichitos, pero no de los grizzly bears. Por lo menos no había osos grizzly en Xalapa.  Anyway, teniamos 31 horas para encontrar son jarocho y la gente que sabía de esa música no nos daba esperanza de encontrarla durante la semana.

(Post edit: F__! What was I thinking? I deleted some private information)
Pero caminando por las calles de Xalapa encontramos libros...

Encontramos poesia....

Boleritos....

y jaraneros rasta

Y por fin a lo que vine....


Gracias, maestro Saul

I love jarocho music even more....

Cuando sea grande quiero tocar asi...

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Puebla, Mexico


Miraba las manos de una anciana y pensaba: prefiero el chocolate que la vejez.


Vendía cafe amargo en las calles de Puebla.  Le compre tres bolsitas.

Cuando Antonia se fue nomas  le dejo tardes vacias en una plaza de puebla.

Su soledad le regalaba sueños de miel con guayaba.

Me pidieron que les hablara algunas palabras en inglés. No sabía que decirles al principio. You are beautiful, les dije. Callaron por un momento.

En serio?

Si.......


Estaba un hombre a su lado predicando la palabra de Jesus. Ella pensaba en Francisco.

Saliendo de Puebla, en camino a Xalapa, Veracruz...me encontre a este payaso. Adios, Puebla, Adios.



Después.........en el autobús  hacia  Xalapa mi esposo dormia a mi lado y yo escuchaba jaranitas y requintos en mi ipod. Soon.




Taco Macho or Deep Throat a la Mexicana

Puebla:

Tired and hungry we stopped at a restaurant to eat tacos. Try the machitos, I was told. So, I ordered the machitos (taco on the left). It was one of the best tacos I've had in my life! The meat texture was hard and creamy. It was delicious!

Then.....

I asked the wrong question: What kind of meat is this?

It turned out I, yes me! ate the PENIS of a bull.

I don't know what else to say......

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Ocixem Trip

La religión se marchó, pero me quede con este esqueleto pa' acordarme de dios. 

Dicen que por las noches no mas se le iba en puro llorar.

El Chavo del Ocho doesn't live here anymore.

 Cuando Luis se fue pa' Watsonville, Calfiornia,  Josefina le esperaba aqui. Ella pasaba ratos escuchando una y otra vez  Si no te hubieras ido del pinche Buki. Nadie se atrevia a decirle que Luis habia muerto cruzando el desierto.

Chanito, the dog,  still dreams in green, red, and white, but the serpent and the cactus are gone.

Revolución con sabor a menta.

Biutiful. Peinful.

La sirena. El diablito. El borracho. La bandera. El nopal. La chinga. 

Te ví en la calle de Jesus Te Ampare.

Cuando se murio mi madre se me obscureció el camino



Saturday, November 20, 2010

Tomorrow morning

Nuestros boletos dicen que llegaremos a las 5 a.m. a la ciudad donde solamente hay un angel. La gente decia que era el angel de la independencia, pero nunca lo fue: Me trajeron pa'l otro lado.


Mexico, escuchas ladrar los perros?

u

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Morning prelude

V rides his bicycle to work every morning. He tells me the world looks different from two wheels.

This week he came home one day and said: Mira..



   (taken with his first cel phone with a little help from bach)

i can have my cake and eat it too

My birthday month celebration came to an end yesterday as we celebrated my 45 years of existance in this wonderful galaxy.

I'm a cake snob.

In most situations I'm a humble down to earth girl who buys her clothes at thrift shops and drives a 14 year old Honda. But if I'm going to eat  four million calories I want every damn one to be worth the extra pound I'm going to gain. Dammit! For the last 4 years I've been going to the fanciest bakery in the county and I buy the most expensive cake I can find. As you can see, there was some serious psychological birthday drama in my childhood so this is my therapy. I'm convinced that a trip to France's bakeries will cure me from my birthday hang ups.

                            I "accidently" tasted the frosting before cutting it.

Monday, October 25, 2010

November trip

Because its music comes from soil and water. Because its music is handmade and raw. Because the requinto and the jarana are my good companions after work. Because I always wanted to dance my pain away on a tarimba. Because Hernan Cortes arrived here in 1519 and I still haven't. Because my abuela used to dressed me up with a white skirt and a black delantalito when I was 6 years old. Because there's a home for me in its music.

The following video's quality is poor but it has soul. It is unprocessed music. It is 100% organic and local. I love it. I can't wait to step on a tarimba.

November, please come soon.

Friday, October 22, 2010

youth 101

During my second year in college ( at a university located very close to the Orange Curtain and far away from Truth) I took a tv break bewtween my exercise phisiology class and my abnormal psychology class  to watch the Challanger. We were excited for Krista McAuliffe and her space dreams.  I had big career dreams too. I was going to become a successful physical therapist, perhaps I would even work for the USC football team. As I sat down watching the challanger I learned what happens to youth's dreams.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

my birthday wish


my birthday wish
Originally uploaded by mario leko
I've been 45 years old for more than 30 hours. The world did change. I got some new skin cells and I think I heard another
of my gray hairs scream: "fuck you, L' Oreal!"

My darling husband hooked me up with the digital world and gave me a fancy cell phone for my b-day. I'm learning to text message.
Thanks, V!

(and thanks to mario leko for the photo)

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Sunday in the afternoon


                                               they went looking for seahorses

                                                  your shadow is a great companion.


Mama take this badge of me. I can't use it anymore. It's getting dark, too dark to see.


even the dog left


                                            It's been so long since I saw you.


                                                   Pelicans dream of Anacapa Island.


 girl and  sea


I said good morning to 17 pink sugar elephants, but they wouldn't speak to me.
(photo taken by V.)


Friday, October 8, 2010

October wish # 3: my father's health

I got the telephone call yesterday. You know which one I'm talking about.

Blood work.
An MRI.
The visit to UCLA Medical Center.

The fucking visit to UCLA Med. Center.

Welcome to the hotel california
Such a lovely place
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the hotel california
Any time of year, you can find it here

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

October wish #2: Don Cornelious and I

When I was a kid I was a girl with a mission.  My goal in life was to dance on Soul Train. I spent 274 Saturdays afternoons  practicing my busta moves. So, on this lovely evening, Don Cornelious has given me the best  present ever! He selected me to appear on his  tv dance show. He knows I worked my ass off in the 1970's.

Thank you, Don Cornelious!

Monday, October 4, 2010

October Wish #1

Excuse me while I indulge this month on me, me, and me! It is my birthday month and dammit, I will cry if I want to.

Actually, work is kicking my sorry ass. It has been a difficult school year. I need this space to release some tension. I have sweet students. They are bright and most of the don't speak English, but I'm working long hours. I can't really complain, at least I have a job, like,  you know?

Okay, going back to my first October wish: I want to teach Math with this energy and passion. In my fantasy it would be possible to teach algebra and functions and number sense in this manner to 22 second graders.

Can you spot me in the crowd?

 

Sundays with V

He doesn't dream of having a million dollars. His dreams don't include a Pulitzer Prize. When he looks at a list of donations he is not impressed with the man who donated thousands of dollars, he's impressed with the person who donated and chose to remain anonymous. His little camera has a tiny black spot on the lense, but refuses to get a new one, "why? It's only dust," he says. He's a good son. He calls his mother every Sunday and he actually has things to talk about. "What about the person I was before I met you?" "What about all the people I hurt with my lies, my wicked ways, my cynicism, my destructive ways. etc.?" He loves me.

We went out  to breakfast yesterday. On the way home, i connected my ipod to the car's radio because I wanted to listen to a recoding of jarocho music. He wanted to film the farm fields of our town. He didn't mind the music.

I think we are learning to listen to music together.



p.s. Sunday drives make him happy.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Life before V

cuando vivía solita en la casita de la calle g

Aquí dormía. Dejaba las cortinas abiertas para hablar con los higos de octubre. Soñaba naranjas polacas y despierta caminaba con más deudas que vergϋenza. Tenía un novio por internet de Uruguay que pasaba horas hablandome de Rimbaud, pero a mi me interesaban más los fideos y el sonido de sus ll’s que mojaba en agua. También tenía una amiguito cyber de sol y polvo. El vivía en Argentina y me regalaba canciones de Sui Generis. Huí con miedo y miel cuando me regaló quiza porque.  Y tenía a Javi.

Javi de España.

Javi de los domingos.

Javi de la mañana.

Javi secreto.

Abriamos el icq los domingos para escribir la pornografia de los violines. Tocabamos avispas con los dedos. Rompíamos teclados. Desnudabamos amapolas.  Pero todo terminó cuando hicimos el error de hablar sobre los minutos esperando el metro y de las 9 horas en mi trabajo.......... y  el maldito foco de la cocina. Why did he have to tell me he was a law student?

Un día mi cyberboyfriend de Uruguay me acusó de mitomanía y muy amablemente me mandó a chingar a mi madre. Me gustó la palabra mitomanía por sus alas sucias y por su sonido de una sonata de Beethoven.

Debo decir que dias después conocí a una amiga de mi ex-cyberboyfriend , una araña linda y patona y me enamoré de ella porque la luna todavia la seguía.

Un día la invité a mi cama y se quedó.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

15

I'll be 45 soon. V and I have been dreaming of ways to celebrate my 16,000+ days in this planet. Seattle in October would be a lovely gift in orange and gold. Boston is far but we can't stop dreaming of maple trees. Regardless, my birthday is near and I can't help having birthday flashbacks.

Here's one:

When I was 14 years old I was aware that I was not a pretty girl. I knew my parents would not throw a quinceañera for me 'cause I was not  princess material, I was more of a Josefina girl ( by the way, my personal definition of a quinceañera is a fucked-up party for young Mexican girls who are willing to learn the fine art social conformity and who are willing to full fill some sick psycho sexual  fantasy of their fathers. Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating a little, but I think I'm damn close).

My parents still asked me if I wanted a quinceañera, but I think they were just being courteous. I told them I didn't want one which was a great relief for them since quinceañera fiestas do cost a lot of money. Of course, I didn't let my parents off the hook that easily, I told them I wanted a big stereo instead.  What can I say? Rock and roll and big ass speakers excited me more than parties for 15 year old girls.

When my birthday arrived, my father took me to the Mexican side of town where they had cheap mueblerias for poor immigrants. I took a Blondie record with me to test the loudness of the speakers. I played Dreaming over and over until I found the stereo I wanted. I received strange looks from the sales clerk for wanting  loud rock for my 15th birthday.

My brother helped set up the stereo in my bedroom. He was impressed with the size of the speakers, but not the my taste in music. He kept shaking his head as if those brand new speakers  and my new stereo would be wasted on rock and roll. My four sisters came to my bedroom to see my birthday gift and to give me a sorry looks. They didn't understand why I had chosen a stereo instead of the quinceañera. They told me that if I had gotten  a better haircut and with a little make-up perhaps I would have been a decent 15 year old. But there was no turning back,  I knew the stereo was worth it. When you're a Josefina girl you learn quickly you don't have much in life.  That day, on my 15th birthday,  I had music in stereo. 

To the punkish Josefina girl I was in 1980 who danced this mess around and shouted Why don't you dance with me?!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VN8hV4AyNss


And because dreaming is free---and because I didn't give a flying fucking fuck if my speakers were wasted on Blondie.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

day in the city of angels

We spent the day in Los Angeles. 'Went to a Dodgers game, Chinatown...and walked the streets of L.A.
I don't ever wanna feel like I felt that day....take me to the place i love ..take me all the way
-red hot chilli peppers

I'm turning tricks, I'm getting fixed, I'm back on Boogie Street. You lose your grip, and then you slip into the masterpiece. And maybe I had miles to drive, and promises to keep: You ditch it all to stay alive, a thousand kisses deep.
-leonard cohen

 her hands turn red cause the days change at night.. change in an instant... the days change at night...change in an instant...she had to leave los angeles
-x
(an "old" punk band from L.A.)

 Mr. Mojo Risin...Got to keep on risin...Mojo Risin..gotta Mojo Risin...Well I just got into town about an hour ago...took a look around.. see which way the wind blew..where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows...Are you a lucky little lady in the city of light..or just another lost angel...
-The Doors
and she gave away the secrets of her past and  said 'I've lost control again'
                                                                      -joy division

(this photo is for c.v.)

oh, god, I must be dreaming...time to get up again...time to start up again...pulling up my socks now...where did the night go?
-gil scott- heron

strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart...Severin, Severin, speak so slightly...Severin, down on you bended knee..taste the whip, in love not given lightly..taste the whip, now plead for me
-Velvet Underground
(the architect of this building is Frank O. Gehry)

Monday, September 6, 2010

Sunday drive

We took a Sunday drive yesterday afternoon. On the left was the Pacific ocean and on the right, hills.  Our old Honda moved on the highway of concrete without saying a word. Summer had abandoned us earlier that morning. There was no use going after it. We still have the ocean.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

sigo guardando música

y hago una cuerda con esta canción  porque era 1985 y el final no llegó.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

losing

The ear infection i have makes me crave music. Losing my hearing scares me. I save sounds.  I save long hair music on the leaves of my dining table plant. That wobbly chair saves that Incredible String Band song I can't find on YouTube.
******

I'm teaching second grade again. I didn't like first grade. I lost my patience for shoe laces and the random Spiderman pajama stories.

*******

My parents bought me a little used radio when I was 11 years old. I used to sleep with the radio on hoping  Gimme Shelter would come on. One day I woke up in the middle of the night and this song was playing:

 

I wanted to save that song.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

To iphone, or not to iphone: that is the question

Next Thursday and Friday I will attend a workshop on how to use the ipod touch in my classroom and on my last week of vacation I will attend another two-day  training where I will learn how to use the Promethean board. Yes, I have to say good-bye to the white board and the document camera. Most schools are already using the Promethean boards, but since we are a poor school district we are a bit behind in technology. Here's a video of a Promethean board just in case you don't know what I'm talking about.


At home I've been debating with myself if I should get an iphone. My current cel phone has abuelita written all over it. I think I'm the only person in the universe who doesn't send text messages. Well, there is my husband, but he doesn't even have a cel phone. We are not technophobes, on the contrary, we embrace technology, remember, we met on the internet. My family tells me it is very difficult to communicate with me since my cel phone does not accept text messages. They tell me I'm missing all the family juicy gossip.  By the way, we also have a home telephone which we never answer when it rings. Our philosophy is that we will CALL YOU when we NEED to talk to you. The same goes with my cel phone. I know, sometimes we can be arrogant assholes and incredibly selfish with our time.

I really don't know if an iphone and I will get along. I do like the idea of writing/texting people instead of talking to them.  I'm a lousy talker. "Um" and "like" run amok in my speech and for the life of me I hardly speak in complete sentences. If you ever meet me, I guarantee disappointment.   Yet one factor that bugs me about smart phones is  that so many people walk and check their  phones simultaneously. People, multitasking is so United States and it's really gross! And whatever happened to sitting alone and thinking? If Rodan were alive today his Thinker would be checking his phone. Forget having a conversation with a person under 25, that individual  will check his/her cel phone several times.

It even bothers me that I spend time thinking about iphones. I should be thinking more about BP, Arizona's SB1070, and Wikileaks these days, dammit. These days I feel really stupid and contagious as that ol' Nirvana song goes. This is what I look like when I think of getting an iphone:

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

First Grade!

I received a telephone call this afternoon. My request to transfer to another school was accepted. Starting August 18, I will teach (drum roll, please):

FIRST GRADE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New school. New grade. Goodbye second grade....Hello, First grade!!!!!!!!!!!

These are not my future students. I just found this video on youtube. I will teach in the so called "bad side" of town. Most of my future students live on or below the poverty line (I chose that school for that reason). I have a difficult and exciting school year ahead. I'm happy. I feel like I'm going back to my  roots.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Some Songs Are Better When I Don't Understand The Language

I love this song because it fills my mind with an empty highway. Seaguls that have no place to go. A red dress with a bullet hole that hangs on a clothesline. I'm sure the song tells another story.




Now, I speak Spanish, but for the life of me I have a hard time understanding these women when they sing and I love it! Perhaps they're not even singing in Spanish and I'm showing my dumb fuck colors. I do pick up a word in Spanish here and there, but I lose the rest of the language. I think these women enjoy teasing my ears. Please pay attention to the lady’s “ay!” (one of the few words I do understand) at the beginning of the video because, I swear, each “ay!” tells a story that lasts 100 years in a dream.  In the middle of the video, the “doñas” sing and my  “I” gets lost in their songs. Depués las canciones llenan mis manos de almendras y mi casa se llena a olor de membrillo. I don’t understand the hand clapping, pero el  sonido despierta palabras muertas, palabras de sal….palabras de pan…palabras de caña....palabras de chocolate....de agua....de beso...de mantequilla....de ti...




I like to think the next song is about a yellow bicycle I never had when I was 12 years old. This song is about the long white socks that reach just below my knees and about the short skirts that protected me from lust at 15. It tells a story about long hair parted in the middle and about the notebook where I wrote down that I was going  love you forever.





post edit:


I almost forgot Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. One time I rode in a taxi in San Francisco, California. The taxi driver didn't speak  English. I didn't speak Pakistani, but both of us spoke Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. In this video, he sings the famous Allah Hoo. I like to think this song is about what the philosopher, Wittgenstein said in his Tractus Logico- Philosophicus that Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent (By the way, I didn't undertand Tractus, it went over my head, but those words stayed with me). So light a candle or place some LSD on your tongue or do whatever you do and listen to this song with me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=adEgRNT3tlU&videos=4t6VNeptkfs

Monday, July 26, 2010

Pow! Whack! Bam! Thud! Doink! Oof!

My computer caught an evil virus this morning. It happened while I drooled over some chisel's art work on Flickr. His profile had a website so doofus me clicked on it and mother flickr! I got a winner! A bunch of dreadful little windows kept popping on my computer screen.  Oh, rats! that's all I needed on my vacation. Little scary messages began to appear on the screen informing me that some virus was going to look up my credit card information. Gasp! I reached for my cel phone and I called my credit card company to tell them to put a block on all purchases. Then,  I did what any respectable dame would do in my case: I borrowed my husband laptop  to navigate the rest of the day on the internet and I waited.

When my husband came home, I told him the bad news about the virus, plus I added an extra sentence:  I swear I was not looking at any porno sites. My husband knows me too well, Mondays are not good days for youporn. Ahem. Anyway, he spent hours fighting the virus and in the end my husband won. He kicks ass! Of course, he will never brag about his amazing computer knowledge. 

So, V.. if you are reading this, you have a beautiful brain and an amazing heart. Thank you! 

L.

p.s.

te amo, Panchito Rogaciano Goodrollinthehay Zapata!

Monday, July 19, 2010

garbage

Many years ago I participated in a all-day Buddhist meditation retreat.  From 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. I had to meditate, walk, meditate, participate in dharma a discussion, eat in silence, walk, meditate, meditate, meditate, meditate,  and meditate. I had false expectations for that day. I really believed it was going to be peaceful and beautiful. I was wrong!

It was hell.

Prior to that day, I had studied Eastern Philosophy by taking some courses at my local college. I had read some books on meditation and Buddhism.  I even  participated in half hour meditation practice once a week at my local Buddhist Center.  I was ready for this day or at least I thought I was.

We started the day by meditating for 30 minutes. That was fine. Then, we walked mindfully. That was fine too. We meditated again. Still fine. We walked again.  Okay, still fine.  By the third meditation, my legs were cramping. My back was aching. I had a non stop parade of bullshit thoughts.  I constantly had to remind myself to bring my mind home. I had to remind myself to become an observant of my thoughts.

When lunch time came around, we were told to eat in silence. Since I'm not a very social person, as a matter of fact, I can't stand most people in the planet, I liked this idea very much. But something awful happened to me while I ate my vegetarian Vietnamese lunch in silence, I had a horrible craving for a diet Coke. My desire was not for any ordinary diet Coke in a can, no, I wanted a Double Big Gulp from 7- Eleven. Now,  I don't shop at 7- Eleven regularly, but that day I wanted a 64 ounce cup of cold Diet Coke. When lunch was over, the head Buddhist monk told the group to rest or to go for a quiet, mindful walk. I pretended to choose the walk, but when nobody was looking, I ran to my car and I drove around town searching for a  7- Eleven. Luckily, I found one not too far from the Buddhist center and I bought my Double Big Gulp! 

After lunch we continued with the meditation routine, well, except for that constant need to pee. Around 3:00 p.m. I was hating life. The non stop parade of bullshit thoughts continued, but this time, the thoughts became quite stupid. For example, I remember contemplating this thought: Why did I stop being a Catholic? Catholics don't have sit for hours and endure mid thoracic pain. They don't have to sit and watch the brain produce a never ending flow of shitty thoughts. At 4:00 p.m. I hated everybody in the room, including myself. Why are we sitting here, pretending we are at peace? Hahaha people who think that Buddhism is peaceful should experience this meditation hell! How did we arrive at this silly romantic idea of Buddhism? We silly Westerners only see the surface of Buddhism. We are suckers! Around 5:00 p.m. I was having  a Pink Floyd moment: Okay, if there is no self, who is producing these thoughts? Who is watching this parade of thoughts? (panic!),

When meditation was over, I told my friend I wasn't feeling that well. He actually had a  peaceful look on his face. He told me that his first meditation retreat was hell too. He said,  "All these inner  garbage comes up." My friend went on to tell me that on a week-long meditation retreat, he was able to deal with the garbage and move on to the next step (there's another step? fuck!)

On my drive home all I wanted to do was cry and I did. I sobbed non stop all the way home. At times, I wanted to get out of the car and run and scream and cry until my body completely dissolved.

This past Friday, I told V. that on my next summer vacation, I wanted to go away for just a week. Not only for my sanity, but for his too. V has to deal with the "nice Trying" and the "grouchy Trying." I told him I wanted to go to a place far away from people and civilization. I want to be alone for a week and meditate, read, walk, and dig my hands in soil that is not located in a pot.  Where is this place? I don't know, but I know it's not Club Med.  I made it clear that if I went alone, he had the right to take a one week vacation alone too. He asked if I was sure I wanted this. He knows me too well. He knows that I get nervous easily and if he decides to take a long bicycle journey, I can't bitch and moan about safety and the road.

When I started this post, I originally wanted to write about the photograph below. I saw this photo in the Los Angeles Times. I took a pen and wrote a dialogue. It sounded funny this morning and I wanted to share it with you, but as I write this tonight, I ask myself: Why did I write this?

It has been a joke in my family that I dislike pregnant women, especially, first time mothers. I'm intolerant of their bullshit halos they carry above their heads, as if  pregnancy has never occurred to anybody else but them. I can't stand it when they rub their bellies in public and their angelic faces scream: look at me!  I'm so cute! When V and I were in New York, we rode the elevator at the Whitney Museum. There was a pregnant young girl riding with us. She try to pull the cute pregnant act on me and I just gave her this "fuck you, I'm not impressed with your pregnancy! Are you aware of the environmental consequences your child will bring to this planet? and how your ego's ignorance will most likely damage this kid forever? " look. My malice made her so uncomfortable, she ran out of the elevator as soon as the door opened.

My vacation has been overall pleasant. But all those hours at home alone is slowly releasing my inner garbage just like that meditation retreat.

I'm sorry.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Roll Man from Cheryl Dunn

http://www.cheryldunn.net/#/film/Roll_Man

Mcliving?

I read a post by Jimena. It left me with this question: Do I have a talent for living?


This is my fourth week on vacation. I’m enjoying it now. I no longer feel I’m chocking on freedom. My life has a routine, a rhythm. Many years ago I used to think having a routine was bad. Boring. Robotic. These days I welcome it. Perhaps I have no talent for living. I look forward being kissed by my husband every morning before he leaves for work. I always mumble something irrational and go back to sleep for another hour. Then, I get up, brush my teeth, clean the cat box, make the bed, play the same old game with Moshki where he hides under the sheets and I pretend I don’t know his whereabouts, start a load of laundry, listen to Democracy Now while I make breakfast…..eat.

Not much talent needed to live this way.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Things i shouldn't do on vacation

i should not waste time drawing on chalkboard wall.

i should not waste time taking pictures of my sleeping cat. oh, walker evans would NOT approve (moshki, you bastard! i just changed the sheets!)

i should not waste time going to antique shops and buying photos of unwanted and forgotten people.

i should not waste time reblogging pictures on tumblr.

i should not waste time reading.



i should not waste time/money buying a cheap camera for $7.95  at the thrift store 'cause i don't know how to use it.



i should not waste time staring at these two housewives. oh,
 i know they're up to no good.



i should not waste time taking a photograph of kierkegaard. come on, L! enough! you have laundry to do.