Tuesday, December 26, 2006

happy holidays ii

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Sunday, December 24, 2006


[Not really... (as far as I know the most recent sightings were on the mountains of Northern Greece, decades ago)]

This guy visits from time to time. He came by this morning to check things out, and seemed relatively satisfied with my recent gardening achievements.

He marked his territory in the way cats usually mark their territory, but I am not sure if he circled me in, or left me outside of it.

From the look he gave me, I am guessing outside...

Friday, December 22, 2006

happy holidays

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Saturday, December 16, 2006


We blew the doors didn’t we?
Pissed in their champagne
And did a real thing didn’t we?
Gave ourselves a name
And peeled away the shame
I wanted to explode
To pull my ribs apart
And let the sun inside

Red stain blossoms
And all you have is kisses

And when the sunshine
Throwin’ me a lifeline
Finds it’s way into my room
All I need is you

We called that love
All you have is kisses
And all I need is you

-- "Ribcage", A Cast of Thousands (2003)

Sunday, December 10, 2006

teeny tiny tomatoes

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In Santorini, these little guys are worth their weight in gold. The entire island is a miracle of waterless cultivation.

I watered the plants on my balcony -- I’ve been watering them since May -- though probably not as often as I should have. I suspect a little fertilizer would have done them well, or even simply topping off their potting soil. I let them take their own initiative. All things considered, especially the fact that it’s December, I’m thrilled to have borne fruit.

Less crop than weed, more garnish than food, they fruited late and sparse and small.

And that’s perfectly fine by me.

This time last year, I was thinking about home, getting ready to travel. It’s easy to look back and think I could have gone anywhere, whereas now I wait whole mornings, hours and hours, for one 15-minute opp to go to the supermarket. There was a couple last year on the plane, very attractive, unaffected, youngish hippie intellectual types. The guy had prominent wire-frame glasses, crazy corkscrew curls, and a baby daughter in his arms, a tiny quiet thing. The things I wanted then, that kept me moving in a dizzying game of hide and seek and hide, are the same things that keep me in one place now. Still dizzy, still unsure if I’ll ever belong anywhere, taking off in one place and landing somewhere else, and going to the supermarket -- for tomatoes, among other things -- almost every day.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

And for dessert, cheesecake...


I don't remember if it was raining, but it might as well have been. It was a particularly sad morning. We spent a few hours standing in front or behind each other. In the end I decided to impolitely cut into his conversation. Call it a hunch...


The next few weeks we frequented the same spaces, the same small, unimpressive beach, the same stupid stadium. His calm, gentle presence was noticeable; soothing, as far as I was concerned.

Until one day we both left in an old car. I found myself in the middle of town, wearing the silliest carnival costume ever. And it was not even carnival!


Since then I sort of bug him, one could say, from time to time. Just to make sure he's around, and he knows that I am.

I hear that lately he is concerned about not having changed enough. What can I say except... I'm relieved.