the angels hung the church bell

for me, the most amazing feeling in the world is to be stretched out in a lounge chair, pool- or beach-side, feeling the sun bake into my skin. it’s those moments that i feel the sun shines just for me, and none of my thoughts hold the concrete heaviness they accumulate throughout the day, and i am free to close my eyes and feel the sweat roll down the backs of my thighs and listen to devandre banhart on my ipod. even these words do no justice to the swelling of happiness i feel when i close my eyes and soak in the sun.

i have compiled a Puebla mixtape:

Mania de Peitao- Seu Jorge
Petit Pays- Cesaria Evors
Lazy Butterfly- Devandre Banhart
Wanderlust- The Delays
Castellano- La Familia Valera Miranda
Samba de Bencao- Bebel Gilberto
Kemake- Zap Mama
Road to Zion- Damien Marley
You’re Beautiful- James Blunt
Oceanside- The Decemberists
Take My Hand- Shawn McDonald
Music- Leela James
La Vida Es Un Carnaval- Celia Cruz

please let me know if you want me to burn you a copy; i am more than happy to oblige.

i began today groggy and wobbly on my new 4” embroidered aldo wedges, sucking down a cappuccino in the lobby of the state’s top radio station before my appearance on the morning news program. 10 minutes on air and we were back honking in puebla traffic. after work, i labored away at soaking in sun rays for about 2 hours before cleaning up and meeting my colleagues and some staff members for a tour of downtown. we visited two breathtaking chapels and watched feathered, painted weiwei dancers celebrate fat tuesday. the boys separated from the crowd to make phone calls to their sweethearts, and we remained to wander through the markets. stalls upon stalls of handmade leather bracelets and painted plates, open studios where painters worked under soaring purple jacaranda trees, tiled buildings topped with frothy plaster work. we dined and chatted at a small restaurant tucked into a side street, and i was struck by the principle of charity. we Americans were presented with puebla-inscribed mugs, and one of our guides gifted to me a beautiful yellow shawl, as the night air had grown chilly.

one of the members of our group was a year older than i am, and he is currently being recruited for the puebla professional football team. a striking man with red hair, he is involved with sports ministry. the book to read is how soccer explains the world. he gave to every beggar we saw, not just the ones panhandling, but those obviously suffering. he gifted to me the cd he was listening to, shawn mcdonald, and in the few hours we spent together, i remain inspired by his selflessness.

“it’s not the man who has the most who is the richest, but the man who needs the least.”

i’m rereading what i have written, and i need to explain that it does little to scratch the surface of my day. how can i give to you a true picture of the fresh churros, crispy and warm on the outside, cool and sweet melting in your mouth inside, licking the cinnamon sugar paste from your fingers? the fountain that danced and lit up to music? the culture of drivers, the speed bumps the size of elephants? the feeling on the warm breeze that brings goodwill? it is a good place to be this day.

la premiera dia

i really like mexico. i woke up this morning very grateful to be here. the country, or maybe just this city, feels much more open and breathy than el Salvador did, and i like that more. i like bigger cities where there is an airy feeling to it; a wide open under the great blue sky sort of feel. i’ve just spent the past few hours poolside, and now we’re going to the pyramids. ta.


**

the pyramids were at once lifeless and thrilling. the first one was built in 600 b.c. and was buried under 6 successive pyramids before all of that was ultimately covered by the Spaniards with a good ol’ god fearing catholic church. as human nature goes, the majority of the tunnels through the pyramids were blocked off, so we were relegated to an uninspiring brightly lit triangular tunnel. Josef, our tour guide, wasn’t very good at explaining how the whole thing came to pass, and my companions were busy enough snapping photos to detract a bit more. the entire area of these pyramids covers some 42 acres, and 5 miles of tunnel traverse underground. it wasn’t until we came above ground and meandered into a field that i began to feel the energy of where we were. partial bits of a pyramid were unearthed and cordoned off, and snaking deeper on the grounds we came into a huge field, big enough for a soccer match, flanked on three sides by altars: east was for sun, north for wind, and west for rain. there was another altar, northeast, for fertility. large stone heads were plopped between sun and fertility. standing in the middle on this field, keene flip flops settling in the dust, i felt vibrations in my chest, yet when i tried to engage Josef in a dialogue to see whether he felt what i was feeling, and a simple yes, i love it, was all i gathered from him. indeed, no more elaboration was needed. the three of us then climbed to the top of a 53-step portion of pyramid, took stupid tourist photos of each other with Cholula in the distance, and headed out.

our next stop was santa maria something church, the only Indian church left by the Spaniards. when they came to mexico, and cholula originally, the Spaniards covered every relic of religion the Indians built, and replaced them with chrisitan churches.

why?

because no one expects the Spanish inquisition!

ahem.

so the walls and ceiling of this church are adorned with 4000+ carved faces. plus a boatload of crying jesus figures, and it was absolutely breathtaking. the energy in this place, too, was overwhelming. it took my breath away. while i sat in reverie, Laverne and Shirley snapped digital photos like they were preparing for a slide show. i was so mived, i even crossed myself after prayer. i hope that’s ok.

i feel safe here. i have had pause to contemplate, once more, how i feel about Hispanics in general, and my understanding of them as a culture and as a people is growing ever deeper. in America, i believe the pervading feeling is that Hispanics, Mexicans in general, are lazy and slow and dense and the women wear tight clothes and the men cheat on the women in tight clothes with white women and they have no class and are willing to scrub the bourgeoisie’s dishes for two dimes to rub together.  what my 24 hours in puebla has shown me is that, holey moley, is not the case. i feel goofey admitting that i have fallen victim to the former mindset time and again. all it takes is a little exposure to stir things up a bit. one of my dinner companions put it quite succinctly: people are more alike than they are different.

given that i, for whatever reason, did not pack my running shoes, and i had a terrible mole dish for dinner topped with a decent dessert, i returned to my room feeling full and restless. not having had sufficient time to digest for yoga, and not wanting to hit the treadmill barefoot, i swallowed my fears and headed to the mall behind the hotel. i am finding that he only time i want to spend money is when i don’t have any. then it all looks good. tonight i found no sneakers, no cute dresses, and only one shirt that caught my eye but ended up being totally unflattering. every time i shop, i feel like Stacey and the guy from what not to wear are going to jump out of the racks and say No No Don’t take that a-line skirt off the rack if you know what’s good for you, miss hips and thighs! so i wandered for a while, and now i’m here. i need to get some sleep, as i’m going to be on Mexican radio tomorrow morning. Buenos noches!

36k feet, 2 days left in february

i just got suckered into the time zone difference ruse. forgetting that Houston is in a different time zone from indy, i was fully expecting another 20 minutes of flying before beginning out initial decent. oh no. an hour and 20 minutes. so i write. and contemplate what in the hell exactly is a cream cracker.

i felt much lighter walking down the jetway this afternoon. my entire person: luggage, baggage, self. i attribute this to a number of factors. i saw the chaos of my room and packing evolve into order today: work clothes, play clothes, cute shoes, new clothes, finally make my bed, put away piles of opera cd’s to be heard, and lo! a well-packed suitcase fit for international travel and a clean, orderly room. also, i feel much better. all day long i stress the importance of getting high in healthy ways, yet i feel the void of my own dopamine production. going out last night was really wonderful. actually, yesterday as a whole was really very nice.

i went to west clay for a party at my friends’ house last night. at first i was convinced her home didn’t actually exist, and she was telling me to drive around and around in the dark of Hamilton county at 9:30 on a saturday night because she needed amusement. i eventually found it, and was delighted to meet a mess of wonderful people. every time i approach a social situation, i am thoroughly convinced i will flop, stand in a corner nursing my orangina, not making any friends. i neglect to remember that this is no longer 6th grade, and no one is going to make fun of my vintage 50’s dress. or call me chicken mcnugget. so it was a lot of fun, and i can’t leave out how great it was to see my friend. we left around, what, like 1ish, and headed toward broad ripple, where we shut down opt’s playing pool. i felt so loose, so comfortable, and had a good time. there wasn’t any weird tension or energy, just a group of people hanging out having fun. once the bar closed down, we ended up watching a movie until 6 am. which is, in my opinion, a terrible hour to have to start your car and drive home. i may, though, have a date when i get home from mexico. that would be nice.

my mother called bright and early this morning, as she only does when i’ve been out all night, and swooped by about 9 to take me to breakfast at patachou, my haunt prefere, before i fly out to mexico.

i feel the lightness of being happy. being dour and mopey, stressed and tired is a heavy, condensed soup feeling. i find myself missing most the people who know me and with whom i can be my most effervescent. i enjoy meeting new people now, exploring my own personality in these circumstances, getting to know other people, making small talk, exploring deeper topics while leaning up against a wall listening to the howls and shrieks of dance dance revolution. that is a testament to where i’ve come from since last heartbroken august. my gratitude runs deep, and so does my fatigue. and my sore feet. 4” heels all night. minus a few rounds of ddr.


in puebla currently. it’s beautiful, clear and cold. very fresh and relaxed-feeling, i’m not sure if i’ll get to see a bullfight this week, since they’re usually on friday or sunday, but i’m keeping my fingers crossed.  

i love this site. it cracks me up!

woxy.com

check it out

save it!

what a weird week, yet

this has been a strange week indeed. not once have i used my in-room coffee pot, i have voluntarily entered into conversations with total strangers in the elevator, and i have has a little extra cash to shop. hmm.

this afternoon was a little disappointing, though. just as we got off the highway to head toward siesta for an afternoon of beach-going, a thick wave of fog poured over Sarasota, bringing a thin chill and the creepy touch of wet in the air. the original meeting we were going to attend turned out to be at 9:30, so instead we opted for a 5:30 one at the gratitude club, only that wasn’t our first choice and we ended up there since i can’t read a directory. it was a good meeting, but i was decidedly floppy right before it because i wanted a coffeeshop, bad. still, i was able to ogle a cute guy in straight fashion blue jeans and nice boots, driving a black Porsche Cabrera. nice.

we ate dinner at mel’s diner, where i could not take my eyes off of david, the expediter. i was toying with the idea of writing him a love note saying as much, but i backed out at the last moment. my excuse was he had a coworker sitting at the counter and i didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. so i toyed with the idea of penning a letter and sending it. as if that’s not creepy enough.

so now i pack, hit the hay, and go get em tomorrow morning.

Gravel Front Yards and Pink Flamingoes

20 feb 06

Bradenton, FLA

I lllhate…hhhlove Florida. I think if I ever move back here to live, I’ll live in a Trailer Park. With a gravel yard and pink Flamingoes. Wearing a muumuu with a pack of Benson and Hegdes rolled in the doily sleeve, rollers and house shoes complete, holding on for dear life during hurricane Season, hoping to god my Meth Lab doesn’t blow away. That, to me, is the quintessential FLA experience. Gawd.

Dinner at Thai O-Cha, AA meeting at 8:30. Not bad at all. Still getting over the Bronchitis. Operating at about 75% currently. Listening to Common, salivating at the sight of the outlet mall across the parking lot of this hotel. Alas, my pulse quickened when I landed eyes on the motherload…Saks Fifth Outlet. How much goodness is left in the world of most of it is house in that very building, I ask you?

This is, ironically, the same hotel Kiki and I stayed in when we ventured south for our first real (harrowing) road trip. I’m just glad the same desk clerk who worked then isn’t here now. To remember my sleep-deprived my-roommate-didn’t-tell-me-until-Georgia-she-couldn’t-drive-stick-Geo-breaking- down-in-Tampa-rush-hour-traffic-yelling-at-good-Samaritans-ass, coming over the counter at her when she, without lifting an eye from her game of computer solitaire, informed me that my reservation wasn’t there because check in wasn’t for another 8 hours when I knew goddamned well it was. Living amends, natch.

Maybe I’ll wash my face, go to bed.

12 February 2006

12 February 2006

Travel Delays pt 2

Sitting in Charlotte Airport. Plane delayed to Virginia, scheduled to hang out with Timbaland and Magoo. Perhaps snowfall will impede this meeting. Flightcrew’s inbound aircraft has not yet arrived. Fuckers. I sort of want to get on the flight back to Indianapolis and go home and sleep. Lodge last night wiped me out, clean. Reading the Jan issue of Dazed and Confused, Feb issue of NYLON. Picked up The God of Small Things at the Library yesterday. Will commence readation in a few.

Bought NARS lippenstift in Flaming Dust. What the fug kind of name is that? Great shade of red, tho.

Curiosity about the upcoming week is propelling me forward. Colleague, boarding school, no transportation, all meals there, prayers for an iron and wifi.

I think I’ll use this opportunity to catch up on all of the messes I’ve gotten into the past few weeks…

Last week, 7-10 Feb: Atlanta, GA. Buckhead. Hampton Inn. Reading The Prophet by Kahlil. Right next door to an Aveda Institute (beautiful). Accomodations were lovely. Sold my soul for a $17 day pass to Crunch fitness, where I ran my ass off for 35 minutes followed by a lovely sweat in the sauna, in my workout clothes, no less, as they don’t provide towels. Walked in on this gem of conversation: So I was like DAD, just because I don’t have health insurance doesn’t mean I planned on getting breast cancer! I was quick to retrieve my peacoat and sneakers from the locker, lest I get pulled into this heart-wrenching triage of parental woes of the mid-20’s woman. At Crunch.

Wednesday (do you see how I’m working backasswards now?) we noshed at Dante’s Down the Hatch. My fears included things like waiters dressed like pirates, a distinct void of tofu, and the proprietor looking rather Captain Hook-ish. As it was, nary a pirate in sight, nor tofu, regrettably, but the place was charming in a look-but-don’t-touch-the-crocodiles sort of way. Got the vegetable plate, because 98% of the known universe thinks “vegetarian” is Latin for “only eats cauliflower.” Fondue’d in soybean oil, no less. Dante, the owner who was suspiciously Colonel Sanders-esque, wove an enchanting story of his time in Namibia, passing out coloring books and pens and determining the extent of the tribes’ modernization by their recognitions of balloons. “We can learn so much from those who have nothing.” I was particularly touched by his description of the joy he saw in the faces of the Namibians. He was with a particular tribe, the name of which escapes me. I’ll get back with that. Dante then gifted the other woman in out party and me a commemorative 2005 daiquiri glass. 2006, recovering alcoholic, I left the thing at the hotel.

Argh…what am I missing? The cold, perhaps? How it was damn cold in Atlanta, where it’s, like, not supposed to be cold? Ah, Lenox Mall. Um, huge? And for this girl from Indianapolis, the entire place was an orgasm in the pants: Kiehls’, BCBG, Guess, Bloomingdales, Anthropologie, an entire store for Ralph Lauren. To name a few. *whew* I’m getting flushed now just thinking about it.

I missed out on going to the Aquarium, which is world-renowned. Next time. I was pleased, though, to actually leave the Atlanta-Hartsfield Airport, where I have flown through probably a hundred times in my life, and check it all out.

Week prior, 30 Jan: Home sweet mofo Home.

Update: my ass is asleep. Overbearing women in cowboy hats, when they are obviously NOT cowchicks, are disheartening. The caliber of woman who votes for W. Gaah.

Which brings me to Delaware. Hi, I’m in…Delaware…

Travel Delays pt 1

Flying to Pittsburgh, we boarded the plane maybe 10 people before it was realized the flight would have to be delayed. The captain called for a vote to plane or deplane, we voted to stay on the plane and get away from the gate. Then we get word it’s another hour fifteen. Collective groans. Then it’s another 45 minutes, but before I can have flashbacks to detention, we’re released, and off we go. Fight attendant who looks uncannily like LaFawnDuh and all.

I don’t really know what to say about Delaware except that time stopped. It was cold, and DuPont is poisoning the water. Highest percentage of breast cancer, and the number of twins and triplets in the school was uncanny. We did, however, check out a Philly Flyers game, where they lost to the Canadians 5-3. It was my first Hockey Game, and we sat 2nd row. It was a rush of Adrenaline every time the puck ricocheted around the glass, or two massive men in massive pads slammed face-first into the barriers. I was struck by how graceful the sport is, which makes the Violence almost Necessary, in my humble opinion.

The place, Delaware, was exactly the same on Tuesday as it was on Friday. There was no movement. Same weird mid-winter sunlight, same bitter cold, same frozen people, and I was thoroughly depressed and only beginning to admit it. Blech. At least they don’t have sales Tax.

Watched Lord of War, which was marvelous. This was also when James Frey was publicly eviscerated on Oprah. I could write a page and a quarter on my thoughts concerning the whole mess, but here’s the Quickie version: I liked the book. In fact, at times I had to stop reading it and go to a meeting. I don’t give a shit if he was in jail for a few days or a few hours, his capture of the addict mind, especially in withdrawal, was spot-on. That is not faked. So fuck it. He’s an ego-driven, arrogant shit, and I believe he got what he deserved. One cannot openly lie about events and get away with it, not without any sort of clout, which he obviously does not have. This is called Karma, and it is the way the Universe works. Best that he gets it now.

Reading Jane, Feb issue. Good mixtapes in thar. Still on Monbiot’s Age of Consent.

12 Feb 2006

12 Feb 2006

the moon is gorgeous tonight. just right. i find an immense beauty in propeller planes, and tonight i watched the moon follow us through layers of deep blue, deepening lavender, and light blue. the propeller spun so fast it was a blur of grey movement. the moon glowed bright and cheerful, the face turned ever so slightly from our airplane. never far from sight, when it escaped the view from the window, i could track it by its white glow projected. nothing could cover the glow of the moon. it makes me want to fall to my knees in reverie.