There is a reason we live in communities...
Ah yes, we had tickets for a gala event, "meet the dignitaries" of this lovely town (of course we would never spend the hundred bucks a plate, but M. being a recently dubbed newspaperman has its perks) but when we realized that the tickets were in fact for said schmoozing, and not a concert, we concurred that we had absolutely no desire to surround ourselves with a bunch of pretentious Republicans just so we could feel that we weren't dressed with sufficient elegance (I insist, we all know by now that I look much better with no clothing, and I feel more comfortable this way too.) Pizco sours (Peruvian paradise) and macerated meat with Kenya and James and the kids won, hands down.
Kenya came back on Tuesday with Nico and Isabelle from the jungle, and I have made it explicit to I. that she has to be the big girl and help her three-year-old shadow practice her Español, and of course as we are toasting it slips out that James is turning 38 today (dirty rat, didn't tell us that there was a reason we were drinking - not that there has to be...). Sabrina and the boys came over, and Kirsten and Peregrine, so we ended up with a full blown party, and a group of children transfixed on the bootleg video dancing across the television screen.
We had planned to go downtown to the "Old Spanish Days" events, like we did last night...apparently one of the events that this town gets most excited about, but strangely a bizarre pastiche of all things Hispanic (ie Mexican) under the rubric of "Spanish", sure there were a few Flamenco groups and a sorry excuse for a Tenor singing "Granada" and "Bésame mucho" and the requisite (and ubiquitous) burritos were being sold (do people really think they eat burritos in Barcelona, I wonder), but James just kept filling up the glasses, and we capped off the night with chocolate cake and Petite Syrah (how can that be bad?) M. was too verde que te quiero verde to be of much use on the guitar, but he and Chet (once he got back from the studio) were playing nonetheless. And it struck me, if for just a little while, that life is a beautiful thing, and having great neighbors around makes it even nicer, so we can all hang about the courtyard and make noise well past 10 pm on a Thursday night and not be sushed as we serenade the night sky.
I also realize that this whole graduate school thing is a lonely prospect, I spend a huge part of my day alone with my thoughts, and that perhaps is why despite my prior trepidation, I am so glad to be teaching again. I missed the show, and interacting with real, live people who actually (believe it or not) think I have something useful to say (fools that they are). There is nothing more satisfying than the look of gratitude on the face of a student when they finally understand.
Life is good today.
Kenya came back on Tuesday with Nico and Isabelle from the jungle, and I have made it explicit to I. that she has to be the big girl and help her three-year-old shadow practice her Español, and of course as we are toasting it slips out that James is turning 38 today (dirty rat, didn't tell us that there was a reason we were drinking - not that there has to be...). Sabrina and the boys came over, and Kirsten and Peregrine, so we ended up with a full blown party, and a group of children transfixed on the bootleg video dancing across the television screen.
We had planned to go downtown to the "Old Spanish Days" events, like we did last night...apparently one of the events that this town gets most excited about, but strangely a bizarre pastiche of all things Hispanic (ie Mexican) under the rubric of "Spanish", sure there were a few Flamenco groups and a sorry excuse for a Tenor singing "Granada" and "Bésame mucho" and the requisite (and ubiquitous) burritos were being sold (do people really think they eat burritos in Barcelona, I wonder), but James just kept filling up the glasses, and we capped off the night with chocolate cake and Petite Syrah (how can that be bad?) M. was too verde que te quiero verde to be of much use on the guitar, but he and Chet (once he got back from the studio) were playing nonetheless. And it struck me, if for just a little while, that life is a beautiful thing, and having great neighbors around makes it even nicer, so we can all hang about the courtyard and make noise well past 10 pm on a Thursday night and not be sushed as we serenade the night sky.
I also realize that this whole graduate school thing is a lonely prospect, I spend a huge part of my day alone with my thoughts, and that perhaps is why despite my prior trepidation, I am so glad to be teaching again. I missed the show, and interacting with real, live people who actually (believe it or not) think I have something useful to say (fools that they are). There is nothing more satisfying than the look of gratitude on the face of a student when they finally understand.
Life is good today.
posted by ilana at 10:27 p.m.
8 Comments:
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What a mood swing from yesterday! That's the best part of the roller-coaster ride! Me alegro por tí.
Siempre me he preguntado si no tendré "bipolar disorder"... ja ja... tal vez sea sólo la botella la que habla :) no... en serio, creo que tenés toda la razón cuando hablas de la personalidad fractal... depende de la hora del día en que me encuentres... ¿o me autoengaño? La melancolía me resulta un lugar muy cómodo, como el zapato desgastado pero querido que nos ha acompañado en todas (o casi todas) nuestras aventuras, por eso, creo, que mi inclinación hacia el arte (por pobre que sea) tiende hacia ella.
Ilana, hay un libro (en realidad 2) sobre comunidades y la experiencia, uno de ellos se llama Twin Oaks: a walden 2 experience y el otro Is it Utopia yet?, ambos de Kat Kinkade, que fundó la comuna de Twin oaks en Virginia. Aunque es otro tipo de comunidad resume ese sueño o necesidad que tenemos de vivir en una comunidad donde seamos útiles y felices. Además Kat, te lo digo por experiencia personal, es un ser humano increíble.
Sole, me suena... y de hecho, uno de los sueños (más despreciados por ciertos sectores) que tengo con algunos amigos cercanos es construir el tipo de comunidad de que hablas... no sé, adoro a la gente, pero también tengo mis rarezas y mis soledades, no sé, talvez la comunidad internética sea la útima utopia, la única alcanzable, ente viviente...
Estoy empezando a estudiar esto (no oficialmente)... la interacción por medio de la red afecta cómo amamos y cómo formamos amistades, sólo no sé todavía nombrarlo.
Por lo mientras te dejo con las palabras del buen Silvio (que compartí con mi clase el día de hoy).
Vamos a andar
en verso y vida tintos
levantando el recinto
del pan y la verdad
vamos a andar
matando el egoísmo
para que por lo mismo
reviva la amistad.
Vamos a andar
hundiendo al poderoso
alzando al perezoso
sumando a los demás
vamos andar
con todas las banderas
trenzadas de manera
que no haya soledad.
!Otro que cumple 38! vieras que somos ya 17 este año (no bromeo), incluyendo a mi amigo español Pedro. Uno diría que en 1967 la primavera se extendió 12 meses y que nuestros padres comían Cornflakes con viagra. // Con respecto a esa vuelta a Arcadia, yo me apunto si cambiamos uno de los requisitos que Sole menciona: quiero una sociedad en la que me sienta feliz, pero inútil.
Yuré... eres hombre Y artista... ¿cómo no sentirse inútil? (con todo mis respeto, por supuesto... y ya estás apuntado en la lista:)
Pero lo peor de las inutilidades son las "escritoras" que no escriben, o que escriben mal, y que cometen errores de tipografía por todos lados... sigh. can't even be funny without fucking something up.
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