Sunday the 27th=October 7th
Even after two cups of wine yesterday night at the windup space, I got up and ran six miles. It didn't even make me unbelievably sore. I had woken up and drank the water and juice at six fifteen. Even...came back to a good cup of coffee but only drank a few gulps of hot black before I headed out to see Carl and Lars(2 of five brothers.) You had working on a flyer. I left you at kinkos and headed over to scoop up Lars and Carl. After a daily grind coffee, we hit the road.
We immediately realized the Saturn was swaying all over the road. It was as though 2 technical minds needed a project and so the universe revealed one in the form of our vehicle.
I had to get gas anyway. As I pumped, the distinct pleasure of watching my two brothers kicking and rocking the car tires, a flashlight checking out the bearings, analyzing the cambre and the shocks and what-have-you. After we got the tires filled, we headed over to meet up with my ex and his wife who were having lunch at a random place called Gina's cantina in millersville, an organic-meets-margaritville house shaped picnic table oasis out of the rain. We came in and sat down like old friends, had some food, Jackson a happy little person sitting on the bench comfortable to have me sit with the bench between my legs so I could face him. I described "the-way-things-go" with him like Robert Krulrich and Jad Abumrad on Radiolab, bantering back-and-forth. I ate in the amazement that we were all getting along. Casey asked where my fiance was. I looked at his face and his nose ring and his blue adidas jacket and thought about how familiar he was. Then I looked at his wife as she described her braces in high school. I ate beans and rice and sipped sweet lemonade.
Daddy had lost alot of weight. I took my brothers and my son down to St. John's and I was looking forward to seeing my parents and maybe some old friends. I sometimes eat very little at places for no real reason except that to eat alot somewhere is to commit to it somehow.I ate very little at the soiree. A cheese quiche in a tiny greesy shell, a bit of gouda. I met Nelson Lund, a former white house advisor to Carter I think and one of my parents friends from then, and saw Jerry Janizewski who I used to see around the gym. I got eggs from my mother's hens and some vegetables from her garden.
This morning was a little sore. I couldn't run. I fried some of the cage-free eggs my mother had brought down from new york. i put in a kind of sort feeling, a kind of attempt to circumvent the stress in breakfast feeling. We had been having a bit of anxiety over meals here together. I made soy sausages for me. I put them on my butterfly plate and came over. I guess we ate sort of peacefully. We were talking but I can't remember about what.
Lunch was, we were talking together about something tense. You had been writing, I had been writing, Jackson reading calvin and hobbes as usual. Borne of a simple comment that I snapped at, a discussion ensued that threatened the afternoon. A black and tan. You cracked one and had a sip and pulled one out for me. I wouldn't open it until I had reached the sort of knowledge that was peaceful. You came in the kitchen, put two chairs facing each other and we sat; my beer sweating unopened. I waited until the breakthrough. It came, my hands weaving a delicate believable soul-form, you encouraging me to speak positively, and suddenly borne of two hopes, a peace came with an understanding. I cracked my beer and began to drink it in a mini spiritual celebration of our two hearts.
I had toasted jack a bagel during this discussion. Jackson spread the cream cheese listening to us.
lunch was two leftover pancakes with molasses cinnomon and honey and the rest of my cold coffee.
There was a boh, and some salty chips at the hostel, and a nervous feeling of poems and feelings in my blood. . It was book-festival weekend, still lots of people came out. I ate CheeseyPuffs("Dangerously Cheese" I said thinking of Zenit Chugtai translating "gibna khateera" sitting next to me one day at the Dar. Jackson and I put CheezyPuffs on Scoops and ate them. I ate a CheeseBall talking to a hostel employee named Nick who liked the idea of doing a writing workshop there.
Sunday the soccer game was canceled. It rained. I had to work 12 hours Monday. Spanish in the morning to 5th graders, then 1st Graders, then K. Then the train, then teach Business of Massage. I had a really crappy but delicious hot chocolate on the acela train. It cost 36$ for the ticket. I had a table and opened my binder to plan my lesson and it felt very good. I thought about how success brings the possibility of self-importance. I thought about how Joe always says, "what you need to worry about is, preparing yourself for success." It was just a tray table and a faster train. I HAD to take it because I was late. Your kiss was sweet in the morning, and in the evening I walked home sooo tired and you were still gone to ED& Emily's. I ate Shrimp and onions and Snow peas from the SUb SHop near Dunkin DOnuts across Georgia Ave where I work. I left while the students were in the clinic, and felt like I was kind of breaking a law. I was So hungry, Casey had sent me aweful text messages which I had finally had a chance to read..I began to ponder them feeling sort of unappreciated.
If I only ate when I felt really really good..How would that look like? Would I feel nourished? Do I feel "good" or just okay? Even as I write this, a week late, I am drinking coffee, the dishes are still dirty from the neat chili I made last night of my mother's baby eggplants and her banana peppers cooked in cumin seed and olive oil with onions and carrots and black eyed peas over brown rice. It feels good to even think of that meal. It was almost hallucinogenic in its goodness. I always think of nourishing skin with onions. The cumin seeds were something intense, some thought I meant to remember; I put them in with the fervence of a witch making a potion. I cut up the eggplants into half moons and thought of my mother's goodness. I was so pleased with seeing all the vegetables cooking and the brown rice bubbling. Food is a commitment to time. I explained principles of transference and countertransference to you, we talked and I watched your heart chakra and mental balance with a strange high bubbling from my forehead like the corpus collusum was separating slightly and putting me into a trance. Among other things, you were talking about Frames of Mind, the primary source of the theory of multiple of intelligences which you are reading. It was a good meal.
