I decide to get my Christmas shopping done early on Friday afternoon. I make my way through the bleak spitting cold to Pike Place to see if the guy who makes the beautiful candles is there this year. He is not. There are rows of bright fruit like jewels made out of water. They seem to be lit from within, emitting some kind of powerful, clean energy. There is a man singing French Christmas carols without any accompaniment. He breaks my heart and I give him a dollar. Then this tall old guy with a white beard harmonizes with him in a reedy tenor. They sound like cartoon animals and it's cute and funny. I go downstairs to get a bowl of my favorite chili, but there's a sign on the window that says they've all gone to a funeral. I start to head back toward downtown and hear this massive bang. I turn around and see that a car has run into a bus. Nobody seems to be injured.
Later that night, I'm singing the concert and everything goes fine. Then halfway through "Les filles de Cadix," my dress starts to slip off. I'm wearing a shawl (which would not do my bidding at key moments, e.g. falling off my shoulders at the end of Gretchen), so there's no Janet Jackson moment, but it is distracting. It's the castanets; you have to move your arms around to keep them loose, which is the problem.
The next night at the office Christmas party, unbelievably, I score a power drill in the gift exchange. My cheerful boss' grumpy (but well meaning) husband shows me how to change the bit and clip on the battery. He is impatient and I don't like performing mechanical tasks in front of other people. I tell him I'm glad he's not teaching me how to drive a stick shift.
The next morning, Jasmine and I drive very very slowly over the black ice to church, where I must sing to pay back for using the place for the concert. All is crisp and crunchy and the sun is out. In the middle of Ave Maria (Schubert), I have the bizarre sense that my hands are enormous- I am clasping them loosely, and they feel like they extend all the way down to the floor. I am concentrating on remembering the words, but cannot help but enjoy this strange, trippy feeling. I wonder if I've suddenly turned into some kind of synesthete, or if god is talking to me this way. Every time I get up to sing, this adorable woman with curly black hair and eyes like jet beads starts to bawl. I stare out the window and resist the urge to cry with her.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
I-5
Last night, the interstate was lined with bright orange barrels. I saw a person in what appeared to be a full HAZMAT uniform standing still among them. Later on the bridge, there were two cars pulled over to the shoulder. One of the cars looked like it was totally crashed up in front, and there was a man walking toward it with his hands behind his head. Maybe the consuming darkness is making me hallucinate. Maybe I'm caught in a Flaming Lips video and I don't know.
In other news, I came up with the dumbest name I could think of while walking to work this morning: Brentany. Get it? It's a combination of Brent and Brittney. But the Brentanies of the world appear to be all over Myspace, so I guess someone thought it was allright.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
4th and Pike
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, empty stores and not too many people in the post office either- at least for this time of year. It's not too cold, though the sun has not appeared since Saturday. We are hanging out in various stages of being broke and unemployed. This raw looking young lady is wandering around in traffic, having some kind of aggressive but cheerful psychotic episode. She is messing with people and she thinks we're funny because we're not high, I guess. Maybe she's right.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Agony and the Ecstasy
I've been on a Carnival Ecstasy Fun Ship for the past several days, having neither money nor inclination to computer it up very much. Therefore, at the risk of great self-indulgence, I offer...journal excerpts!
Nov. 28
Plane #1, leg #4. The longest and most crowded LA to Houston. So I'm guessing 3 more hours, crying baby and the old guy has colonized the armrest. He is sporting a blue cotton onesy. Baby probably is too.
I wonder about the difference between work and ease. I wonder about the miniscule changes that slowly change our bodies and the mountains.
***
Here I am at the Baymont, crashing in on Sue and Flor, who is a fantastically, archetypally cool and outspoken Persian Manhattenite- descended from royals, unsurprisingly. She wears a brand of French perfume called Grain de Soleil, and she definitely rocks the room. The wedding party is fabulously diverse. My little head was swimming from all the stimulating swirl of Farsi, French and Flemmish.
Nov. 29
Jasmine is a married woman. The lead-up was quite tragic. Alex, Lisa and I wanted to hang out with Jas in her dressing room and help her get ready, but we were roundly rejected by Sue, who literally shut the door in our faces. Why did all those other people get to be in there while her old friends and sister were sent away? It was not like the Estee Lauder commercials and it was not fair! I felt especially bad for poor Ale, who is perhaps having trouble with the whole cruise thing and Jasmine's further removal.
The ceremony was simple and fast, but those kids belong together, so who needs more than that?
Nov. 30
The evening star, sickle moon, and the smell of industrial air freshener wafting out into the open air. The sea is impossibly lovely with its shifting skin. There are pockets of space on this boat without slot machines and disco, with the sound of the water breaking on the side. I think there's so much to learn just from watching how the water moves. I so enjoy the creaking and sighing of the boat from my little cabin.
Dec. 1
Our Cozumel snorkeling adventure! A stingray, swarms of lovely fish with huge eyes, dazzling irridescent freckles on scales like black velvet. Curious fish, cute and near. Brain corals, fan corals, sprawling flat russet organisms with breathers like organic smokestacks. A tiny, transparent jellyfish friend with a roundish, whimsical body and tiny cilia-type movers. Jasmine hypothermic, Koen's brother predictably unimpressed. I was!
I just ascended to the upper deck to enjoy the gloaming with a cup of coffee. The wind blew my skirt straight up, and of course I'm wearing my one and only pair of shocking pink drawers. Spilled coffee the hell all over myself. As luck would have it, I am all in beige tonight. Time to hit the steam room.
Dec. 2
Bus to Uxmal. Excellent history lesson from our guide, then he promoted a tourist book.
What must they think of us? We are herded like docile draft animals. We are constantly eating! Last night after dinner, it was announced that the Mexican buffet would be served on the Lido deck in one hour. (I did have a gander at the architecturally stacked cream cakes with strawberries and lacy red caramel sheets rising up flamelike. The watermelon sculptures. But that feast was only for the eyes of stuffed me.) But what must they think? I have met not one American who works on the boat. How can we really take so much and have no pause or shame? Sure, it's a relaxing cruise where folks can let it all hang out, which is wonderful, but the slovenly excess is embarrassing.
***
Chaak- #1 in Uxmal til Toltecs supplanted him with Quetzalcoatl
King entered inner chamber through mouth
Tlaloc- god of rain w/moustache
Ik- god of wind- spiral design
huge storm depicted on gov. palace w/king in center controlling
Chaak- diamonds = lightening
Venus (star) = war
Venus is morning star at harvest time, when king went with army to collect taxes...or else.
Toltecs- 11th cent.
***
Uxmal. So beautiful! I wonder how the Mixteca feel about their ancestry, two sparring elements. Hard enough having two parents; one can only imagine having two cultural heritages, one having all but destroyed the other.
***
Port of Progresso. Charming little mariachi ensemble, but they are playing Miami Sound Machine covers. Alas. Still, this seems to be a relatively unjaded bunch of Mexicans. The tour boat comes on Tuesday, and they sell to us, but I think it's only once a week. I got some weird stuff for my friends, although did not find a charm like the one Carlos sold to me for a kiss.
Dec. 3
A storm-tossed night at sea. I'm still a little shakey from last night's dancing and fun (I joined a soul train and everything), and this is most unhelpful. Could hardly touch my dinner as it rocked before me. The only knot of our party that I could find was watching an awful comedian, so I'm here turning green in my cabin. ...que la houle incline en silence.
Dec. 4
I think I've imprinted on Jasmine's family. I miss them so much it aches, and who knows if or when I'll see them again. I am drowning my sorrow in an airport latte to the strains of hoarse young men singing ultra-tender love songs with hawanging accoustic guitar, reassuring and monogamous.
***
At last, the plane to Seattle. Bovine Texans to shovey Kansas City to grouchy, paranoid Seattlites. Not my people. No.
Cornily enough, the ship trip opened my mind. I learned about being an outsider and the arrogance of majority. About fitting in and accepting the culture of that majority while maintaining a richness of self and making a kind of cloth out of it all. I learned about relaxing and enjoying a ride you can't control. Of course, I was just an interloper, but I tried to pay attention.
Nov. 28
Plane #1, leg #4. The longest and most crowded LA to Houston. So I'm guessing 3 more hours, crying baby and the old guy has colonized the armrest. He is sporting a blue cotton onesy. Baby probably is too.
I wonder about the difference between work and ease. I wonder about the miniscule changes that slowly change our bodies and the mountains.
***
Here I am at the Baymont, crashing in on Sue and Flor, who is a fantastically, archetypally cool and outspoken Persian Manhattenite- descended from royals, unsurprisingly. She wears a brand of French perfume called Grain de Soleil, and she definitely rocks the room. The wedding party is fabulously diverse. My little head was swimming from all the stimulating swirl of Farsi, French and Flemmish.
Nov. 29
Jasmine is a married woman. The lead-up was quite tragic. Alex, Lisa and I wanted to hang out with Jas in her dressing room and help her get ready, but we were roundly rejected by Sue, who literally shut the door in our faces. Why did all those other people get to be in there while her old friends and sister were sent away? It was not like the Estee Lauder commercials and it was not fair! I felt especially bad for poor Ale, who is perhaps having trouble with the whole cruise thing and Jasmine's further removal.
The ceremony was simple and fast, but those kids belong together, so who needs more than that?
Nov. 30
The evening star, sickle moon, and the smell of industrial air freshener wafting out into the open air. The sea is impossibly lovely with its shifting skin. There are pockets of space on this boat without slot machines and disco, with the sound of the water breaking on the side. I think there's so much to learn just from watching how the water moves. I so enjoy the creaking and sighing of the boat from my little cabin.
Dec. 1
Our Cozumel snorkeling adventure! A stingray, swarms of lovely fish with huge eyes, dazzling irridescent freckles on scales like black velvet. Curious fish, cute and near. Brain corals, fan corals, sprawling flat russet organisms with breathers like organic smokestacks. A tiny, transparent jellyfish friend with a roundish, whimsical body and tiny cilia-type movers. Jasmine hypothermic, Koen's brother predictably unimpressed. I was!
I just ascended to the upper deck to enjoy the gloaming with a cup of coffee. The wind blew my skirt straight up, and of course I'm wearing my one and only pair of shocking pink drawers. Spilled coffee the hell all over myself. As luck would have it, I am all in beige tonight. Time to hit the steam room.
Dec. 2
Bus to Uxmal. Excellent history lesson from our guide, then he promoted a tourist book.
What must they think of us? We are herded like docile draft animals. We are constantly eating! Last night after dinner, it was announced that the Mexican buffet would be served on the Lido deck in one hour. (I did have a gander at the architecturally stacked cream cakes with strawberries and lacy red caramel sheets rising up flamelike. The watermelon sculptures. But that feast was only for the eyes of stuffed me.) But what must they think? I have met not one American who works on the boat. How can we really take so much and have no pause or shame? Sure, it's a relaxing cruise where folks can let it all hang out, which is wonderful, but the slovenly excess is embarrassing.
***
Chaak- #1 in Uxmal til Toltecs supplanted him with Quetzalcoatl
King entered inner chamber through mouth
Tlaloc- god of rain w/moustache
Ik- god of wind- spiral design
huge storm depicted on gov. palace w/king in center controlling
Chaak- diamonds = lightening
Venus (star) = war
Venus is morning star at harvest time, when king went with army to collect taxes...or else.
Toltecs- 11th cent.
***
Uxmal. So beautiful! I wonder how the Mixteca feel about their ancestry, two sparring elements. Hard enough having two parents; one can only imagine having two cultural heritages, one having all but destroyed the other.
***
Port of Progresso. Charming little mariachi ensemble, but they are playing Miami Sound Machine covers. Alas. Still, this seems to be a relatively unjaded bunch of Mexicans. The tour boat comes on Tuesday, and they sell to us, but I think it's only once a week. I got some weird stuff for my friends, although did not find a charm like the one Carlos sold to me for a kiss.
Dec. 3
A storm-tossed night at sea. I'm still a little shakey from last night's dancing and fun (I joined a soul train and everything), and this is most unhelpful. Could hardly touch my dinner as it rocked before me. The only knot of our party that I could find was watching an awful comedian, so I'm here turning green in my cabin. ...que la houle incline en silence.
Dec. 4
I think I've imprinted on Jasmine's family. I miss them so much it aches, and who knows if or when I'll see them again. I am drowning my sorrow in an airport latte to the strains of hoarse young men singing ultra-tender love songs with hawanging accoustic guitar, reassuring and monogamous.
***
At last, the plane to Seattle. Bovine Texans to shovey Kansas City to grouchy, paranoid Seattlites. Not my people. No.
Cornily enough, the ship trip opened my mind. I learned about being an outsider and the arrogance of majority. About fitting in and accepting the culture of that majority while maintaining a richness of self and making a kind of cloth out of it all. I learned about relaxing and enjoying a ride you can't control. Of course, I was just an interloper, but I tried to pay attention.
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