I like travel, the way it shakes up the most basic assumptions, a good
exercise I think. After an hour or so of colliding into others, I
remember they tend to keep to the left on stairways, as they do driving,
but not always on the street. I can tell my American accent sounds
thick, so I try and speak more carefully, to be better understood.
My little phone works, though. I was worried it might not. Enter
some code and I can call anywhere. Star and some numbers and I can
hear who's calling me.
february 3
february 3
I've been saving reviews of London plays from the New York Times all
year, bringing them here to compare with the list they have on the pillar
by the half-price ticket booth in Leicester Square. Tonight a play with a
grown up Macaulay Culkin, not looking so different from his Home Alone
years, and then into the tube station, deep underground. Waiting on the
platform, the end of a nice day, becoming aware of the distant sound of
echoing music. Something sweet and compelling, heart gripping and a
little bit haunting - that faraway lonely sound.
february 9
february 9
I wonder if you've changed my brain chemistry
I wonder if I've altered yours
as if closeness makes new people
weaving part of each one
into the other
too intricate a fabric
to ever pull apart
I'm standing in a den that's a room within a room, part of a sort of
maze of small rooms, each one off the other, holding an open book in my
hand - i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart), a line from e.e. cummings
that I like, whichever heart I imagine mine to be.
On top of the bookshelf a few of those Russian dolls, mostly the ones
with identical dolls of increasing size, one inside the other, but the one
I reach for, my favorite, is a little different, sort of like one person with
different parts inside. The outside one is intricate and interesting, and it
opens to show a different face inside, that one's detailed handpainting
telling a different story, and the one within that another story still and so
on. I like this doll and it always makes me smile.
That's the thing about moving, I reflect. Each thing, each possession, now has
an unasked question attached to it - should this come with me, is it important
enough to carry into a new part of my life. I put the dolls within a doll back in
the room within a room. But the heart within my heart is with me all the time.
february 23
february 23
Under the weather, headachy and kind of sick for a few days.
Under the weather, time spent waiting for snow and freezing rain delays.
Under the weather, trying to wrap my arms around it.
february 25
february 25
A strange stretching of strings,
awkward, like the words,
that takes the place of arms
connecting me to you.
A resonating sound
when feelings move the strings,
one kind of sound
when worries are with you
a different kind of song
when good things fill your life,
all the people who love you.
There always was a time,
and will always be again,
when string was put away.
We coiled it carefully,
looped it like a lifeline,
and kept it in a bottle,
saved for only those rare times
when distance parted us.
february 27
february 27
A few hours spent in French. Il y a longtemps - it's been a long time
since I've seen them. The last time was November, and I
was so cold
all the time then, wearing my coat in someone's perfectly
warm home. Later they brought me a gift - an afghan, a blanket to keep
me warm,
but which warmed my heart more. Today each one approaches
to ask
how things are. �a va? I feel as if I've done nothing but take from
these good friends lately, but it feels so good to have them there.
Conversation moves to travel. They come from different places, so
people are often missing. S is in California, L just back from Panama,
but attention is riveted on J, who has been back for only douze jours
from the trip that everyone envies, Nouvelle-Z�lande. Le monde est
vraiment trop petit, in some ways. But then it sometimes seems so large.
