09-09-09
This was my Worldwide Moment for 9 September 2009.
It was a good day for rain, for snuggling under the covers, for enjoying the lull of leftover sleep. But the day awaits. With clouds in my coffee and a smile on my face, I went outside to enjoy this moment: quite perfect for playing tag with the wind, jumping on puddles, singing off-key to Frank Sinatra.
All rights reserved
Uploaded on Sep 9, 2009
12 comments
Rub the belly for good luck, because I'm 23!
Happy birthday to me :)
15 March 2009
All rights reserved
Uploaded on Mar 14, 2009
7 comments
365/365
14 March 2009
11:26 pm
"His novels were overstuffed with facts, humor, digressions, silence, and sadness."
-- The New Yorker on David Foster Wallace
Someday, the same thing will be said about my life.
Thank you. Thank you for letting me do this. Thank you for witnessing. Thank you for being a part of it, as much as I have been a part of everything, living this life beside you.
All rights reserved
Uploaded on Mar 14, 2009
3 comments
364/365
13 March 2009
6:49 pm
1.
Once, over coffee, while the dark was slowly spilling over the sky, I told a friend how comfortable I was with my sadness. I said, I’ve always been sad. The man I loved knew that. He learned how to live with it, that feeling that sits beside me. He learned how to make me happy and never demanded that I trade all of it for his love. Which is why each time that we were together, I have never been happier and sadder in my life.
2.
In my music player I have eight versions of Bach’s Air. When I’m feeling sadder than usual I play all of them, all day long. Once, he asked me, Why do you love it so much, this piece? It’s so simple. Not even a notion of grandeur, what overtures are made for.
I said, Because it is all of the poems in the world put together. Because it is a long walk in the park beneath a sky without stars. Because it is dreamless. And most of all, because of its name: I lie on my back and I feel that I’m listening to air, to the sound of other people breathing, to the sound of your lungs exhaling, the sound of my lungs inhaling. I love this piece because this is the closest I can get to being under your skin. And this kept him silent.
3.
When sleep eludes me and I’m too tired to chase it, I sit on this chair and write bruised declarations of a past life. I walk barefoot into the kitchen, open the fridge and look inside it for a long time. I turn on the TV and mute the sound. I stand in the middle of my room and look at my hands. I long for a window that isn’t there. I recite some lines from a Philip Dow poem:
Hunchbacked
by his heart
swollen with dreams
of wings, of girls whose breasts are antelope
trembling beneath the lightning
that seeds his spring: he hears the boes
of their unborn children
growing.
In his heart hut he lives,
a mute
chewing crimson flowers
to make speech, to keep
saying
what does this do
to save my life?
His words stall for time,
slave for the mortgage on his bones:
he knows he is a fool
who cannot solve it –
yet, goes at his heart over and over
repairing: with jellyfish, lame horses,
whistles, white cords of his body, white moths
seeking colors, damp alleys,
odors of knives,
trees, stumped, putting out tiny wings
of translucent new leaves anyway.
4.
The world could fit in a womb.
5.
My own heart is a trick. It is a fist beating inside my chest, chanting, now now now now now now now now now now now now now now now now now now now, a spoiled child who insists on getting what it wants. How to calm a tiger? I pace back and forth with it, inside its cage, back and forth, back and forth. We sit and wait. We watch. We take.
All rights reserved
Uploaded on Mar 12, 2009
8 comments
363/365
12 March 2009
4:43 pm
What to say about a journey ending? Only that another journey is beginning.
As I draw my Project 365 to a close, I can only say that I have brought out my dancing shoes -- and I'm dancing with myself, dancing with joy, dancing with melancholy, breaking out into a song. Lately, that's all I ever do - believe that my life is one big musical, and spin around and flip my hair and sing, oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes they both reached for the gun the gun the gun oh yes they both reach for the gun
and: s'wonderful, s'marvelous that you should care for me -
All rights reserved
Uploaded on Mar 12, 2009
3 comments
