A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME One thing’s for sure: these years won’t come again. You will live out your meagre share of apportioned time, your eyes will be fretted with shadows and, after a while, the light will annul your face in the null of the glass. And it won’t be that long, so they say, till you’re sick to your soul of watching, as the windows fade to grey, sifting the dregs of your…
T’s friend and poet Luis Muñoz told her he liked Simic’s poetry – I do too! This Morning by Charles Simic Enter without knocking, hard-working ant. I’m just sitting here mulling over What to do this dark, overcast day? It was a night of the radio turned down low, Fitful sleep, vague, troubling dreams. I woke up lovesick and confused. I thought I heard Estella in the garden singing And some bird answering her, But…
“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” Henry Miller
One two buckle my shoe Three four open the door Five six pick up sticks Last night, when Tin had demanded yet one more reading of Bad Kitty, we switched back to the Family Book that I had made for him a while back that describes his coming to the world and to us in the form of a fairy tale – the thousand miles, to be exact, that we had to bridge to be…
A friend wrote me the other day that he was going out for a long bike ride to figure out his life. His life. What would he do with his life? He’s young, I thought, more importantly what will I do with my life? Another friend who is about to retire said the whole notion is unnerving, to be entering a time when the years of making money are behind you. I said embrace the…
When I was a pre-teen in Puerto Rico we had slam books – a composition book that you posed a question and your friends answered in it, along with other notes that accumulated in them. Where those slam books are now I have no idea. When I first got on My Space it was only due to intellectual curiosity and so it was that I followed the social media path reluctantly to Facebook because I…
After I left the Saints & Sinners panel discussion yesterday, I walked across the street to the Arcadian Books store on Orleans and bought a book of historic jazz photos. Tin, of course, loves it. Today when I returned from spinning having felt some sort of transcendence in working my body through the ongoing fatigue I’ve been feeling, I drove up to find a friend and her mother and the dogs and T and T2 all…
Last night, a friend ragged my joie de vivre saying she reads my blog but disagrees sometimes with my effusiveness about New Orleans. “It’s so great to live here!” she mocked, “is there any place better?” she rolled her eyes [well, no] – she harpooned me, “there are other places, this place isn’t always so great.” Oh, really now? Do tell? Could I live in another city and raise Tin like I’m raising him? I…
Tin’s nanny, Margarete Beeson curated her first big show in New Orleans at the Candle Factory last night, the Toy Art Show, and oh my was it fun! Sure there was plenty of doll art, but there was also a shadow puppet show doing A to Z of mythological creatures, a lighted hooping act, a marching band called Noisician Coalition playing some weird funky stuff that took Tin a while to get his groove on,…
A fellow blogger asked me to cover one of the panels at the 2011 Saints & Sinners Literary Festival and thereby introduced me to it, as it always followed too close on the heels of the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival and Jazz Fest to pique my interest. But having gone yesterday for only one panel to whet my appetite, I’m sorry that it has taken me this long to notice it. And I was even…