...

That night people around me were slowly drowning in small talk. I’m not much of a conversationalist so I sat in the back of the room and listened. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I began to spit out phrases from Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.

A teaspoon of soil

We can leave the library then, go back to the creek lobotomized

Emotions are the curse, not death

Self-consciousness……hinder the experience of the present.

Nobody listened.

because

Because I dream,
that is not what I am.

(from the film Leolo)

Random thoughts

1.
My first psychologist, a UCLA graduate, straight out told me on my 11th visit that my problem was my hair. Yes, my hair. The problem was not my mother or my father. It was my miserable, shitty, scruffy, dry, mother fucking hair. She advised me to buy a hairdryer.

Mrs. Dalloway said she would by the 'hairdryer' herself..

Proposal

Todavia and I invite Mr. Crónicas Urbanas to reenact the Louvre scene (Godard’s A Band Apart)





Also…..Mr. Crónicas Urbanas would you like to recreate this scene?

smithereens

There is no school for the next three weeks.
No students.
No lesson plans.
No exams to grade.
No conferences with parents.
No California Standardized Test preparation.
I can go to the restroom anytime.

I desperately need to rest.....meditate.....touch sand....sit down....

Sunday

Thoughts of the end of the world arrived early today. These apocalyptic thoughts made me hungry for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a Czeslaw Milosz’ poem I read many years ago when I was in my 20’s. The poem is called A Song On The Day The World Ends. Without an ounce of shame,I wrote a pseudo version of that poem, um, well, it's more like a shopping list for doomsday.

Oh, and Mr. Milosz, please forgive me........

On the day the world ends…...

A man rides a bicycle to work.
A cat sleeps and dreams of a big juicy moth.
An apple rots on the ground.

On the day the world ends….

A seahorse gives birth.
A 17 year-old boy shoots up heroin.
A mother washes a spoon.

On the day the world ends...

White seagulls fly to Anacapa Island.
Chavela Vargas sings yo quiero luz de luna
A first grader learns to read the word, mat.

On the day the world ends......

I wear blue jeans and an old red sweater.
I don't remember Nietzche.
I don't remember God,
The periodic table,
Or Daniel Marrodan, the Argentian boy who broke my heart at 15.

Returning

I'm returning to work tomorrow. I can't complain. With the budget crisis here in California, having a job is a priviledge. Resting the body and mind was good. I painted with Matisse. I read a little Zizek (just a little). I listened to Nina Simone and Karen Dalton. I even watched this great film called The Road (I haven't read Cormac McCarthy's novel). I sat down and did nothing (something very difficult to do in these United States). Overall, my vacation felt like the following song in this video......I didn't attend Woodstock (i was too young and too busy sticking my tongue out at the wind), but can you find me in the audience?