summer of 2007 is drawing to a close.
i've had one of the best summers of my life, i think.
in june:
-i was in a play. rabbit hole reminded me that i have a wealth of emotional reserves inside that are very strong and readily available;
-i joined a gym, and to my surprise actually enjoyed working out, for the first time in my life;
-i finished my sketchbook of altai drawings, self-published them at kinkos, and distributed them accordingly;
-i went to a bitchen pool party and played water volleyball with jockish aplomb;
-i visited friend beth and new friend von in austin, and my brother and sis-in-law in waco;
-i cleaned my apartment for the first time in months (whew).
in july:
-i went to france (did i mention?);
-i started rehearsals on another play. the pillowman is reminding me that i have something in common with everyone in the world;
-i took another healing trip to austin;
-i slept as much as i wanted to;
-i spent fun times with friend marc.
in august:
-i watched the rain create a makeshift swimming pool in the grass-patch outside my window while i sipped coffee in my cozy cave;
-i started on a new set of drawings, inspired by some affirmations i put together for myself, aided by a cool person named mary;
-i house-sat and dog-sat at my parents' place, watching old dick cavett interviews with famous comedians;
-i had a great healing visit with von, during which we went to the mcnay and to a rock shop, and made a good dinner using one of jean-jean's recipes;
-i saw a good movie called golden door;
-i enjoyed a clean-up day at school with some of the advanced theatre students;
-i started paying more attention to my diet, eating healthier food;
-i finally read dave eggers's a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.
and of course i met quite a few wonderful people this summer: thad, asia, forrest, michele, von, mary, rick & odile...
but i think mostly what i learned, and am learning, in addition to continually discovering my personal power, is the way to make each day last longer. now this might sound like a dubious ability, because many people on our earth don't want their days to be longer; after all, the phrase "it's been a long day" generally connotes a feeling of strife and exhaustion. but i'm learning that a long day is one where you're awake for it, engaged in it, actually living it and not coasting on auto-pilot. i haven't always wanted this, and sometimes i still don't-- sometimes i just want to disappear into my couch with the tv on and let the day go by like so much annoying pageantry... i'm learning, however, that being awake and engaged is an attractive, adventurous option, if i'm willing to go there.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
france part five
FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE
after three days in paris, we checked out of our lovely hotel and dragged our bags through the metro to the train station, where we sat and waited for a couple of hours for our train to arrive. (we got there really early, to avoid lateness.) while at the train station i did some lovely people-watching. we ate sandwiches and sipped drinks. i left one of my little books of sketches there on purpose (see footnote below).
our train ride to nantes, heading in a southwesterly direction, was taken on the smoothest train you've ever felt. it was more like a glide than a ride. more people-watching (inside our 16-person cabin) ensued. two little girls cried as they left people they loved (friends? family?) and set off to nantes with their grandmother. in another 4-seat section, two kids bickered over toys while their mother reprimanded them occasionally. one little girl (9 or 10 years old) played with her barbie in a hilarious fashion, complete with voices and facial expressions. i liked it when she pulled the barbie's bikini top off then screamed, acting out the part of the barbie, who was outraged to be naked.
one of our hosts, rick, who grew up in corpus, met us at the train station in nantes. he was an old friend of fran's from college. he talked a lot, mostly about himself and his ideas, which i found slightly irritating at first; then i realized he was intelligent and interesting, and i gave in and listened to him gladly. he drove us to the home he shared with his french wife odile and their two daughters chloe and emma, in a tiny town called st. julien-de-concelles. we spent six days staying in their garage apartment on a patch of farmland that has been in odile's family for generations. it was so beautiful there, with amazing flowers (hydrangeas, passion flowers, calla lilies, portulaca, roses...) and a full veggie garden, from which we ate each evening. (the potatoes needed nothing... no salt, no butter... oh my gosh...)
rick and odile had an interesting relationship. at first i thought they were really on rocky ground with each other, like verging on divorce. their verbal interaction was intense and aggressive. i found myself embarrassed, afraid i was witnessing their collective downfall. later, however, fran assured me that they have always related to each other this way-- it's them. it's the way they interact. no imminent downfall to be worried about. after fran told me that, i felt a lot better and could freely observe their aggressive interaction, without fear.
while in our idyllic french country retreat, we did many fun things:
mont st. michel is a fortress/church/monastery/village that dates back to the 10th century. we walked all through it, marveling at room after room in this almost labyrinthine structure, full of sacred ghosts and shadows. its sheer size is almost too much for the brain to handle. up above, in the abbey prayer garden, for a second i thought i'd been there before, and for a couple of hours i wished i lived there again.
before visiting mont st. michel, we ate at the relais du roy. though it was elegant and the food was sublime, i felt uncomfortable at this restaurant. maybe it was my weak grasp of french. maybe it was the brisk, intimidating waitstaff. or maybe it was the camembert, whose flavor resembled gym socks.
we also visited a gorgeous, glamorous fortified port town called st. malo. we walked on the beach, out to an island, collected rocks, marveled at the view, soaked in the atmosphere, and then strolled down a cobbled street of the town, which was lined with stores containing high-ticket items. this place was destroyed during the second world war by the americans, and was rebuilt, stone by stone, in subsequent years.
finally... our small tour of the city of nantes came toward the end of our stay in france, so wasn't quite as extensive as it otherwise would have been, since we were a little exhausted. we didn't catch a rugby game; however, we did visit the cathedral (under renovation) and had a droll tour of it (all in french, but we could tell it was funny by the middle-aged tour guide's eyebrows and how they rose on the clever bits); and we walked through some of the castle. we sat outside at the incredibly ornate cafe la cigale (the cicada) and had tea and cakes of various kinds. nantes is the sixth largest city in france and has a sort of combination small-town/big-city feel to it, cosmopolitan yet not out of touch with its roots.
but in the final analysis, perhaps my most memorable moments were spent with fran and zoe and our hosts rick and odile around the dinner table each evening: simple, delectable dishes brought out at random, new stuff, leftovers, fresh from the garden, how do you make this?, oh it's simple, just some garlic, parsley and olive oil, put it in the oven for twenty minutes, talking about stuff, religion, capital punishment, vegetarianism, family, mushrooms, homosexuality, college friends, insurance, wine... all the things that matter in life.
my bottle of cointreau, bought at the paris airport with my last 20 euros, was manufactured in the town of angers, which was actually just "down the road" from where we stayed in st. julien-de-concelles. it arrived home safely, in the wayward bag (remember, the one that had apparently been attacked by dogs?), and is now resting in my refrigerator.
and though this is the end of my five-part blog series, make no mistake: i'll go back to france.
FOOTNOTE: i made a book of small sketches, based on photos i had taken in russia, and decided that i would leave one of my sketchbooks in a random place in paris. though i probably should have given one of them to the stranger making eye contact in the subway, i didn't think of it in time; so i had to leave the sketchbook under a bench in the paris train station. it was both a practical attempt at spreading my work around the world as well as a symbolic gesture of european artistic aspiration. i'm hoping to develop a website soon which will exhibit my burgeoning collection of drawings. i'll keep you posted on that.
after three days in paris, we checked out of our lovely hotel and dragged our bags through the metro to the train station, where we sat and waited for a couple of hours for our train to arrive. (we got there really early, to avoid lateness.) while at the train station i did some lovely people-watching. we ate sandwiches and sipped drinks. i left one of my little books of sketches there on purpose (see footnote below).
our train ride to nantes, heading in a southwesterly direction, was taken on the smoothest train you've ever felt. it was more like a glide than a ride. more people-watching (inside our 16-person cabin) ensued. two little girls cried as they left people they loved (friends? family?) and set off to nantes with their grandmother. in another 4-seat section, two kids bickered over toys while their mother reprimanded them occasionally. one little girl (9 or 10 years old) played with her barbie in a hilarious fashion, complete with voices and facial expressions. i liked it when she pulled the barbie's bikini top off then screamed, acting out the part of the barbie, who was outraged to be naked.
one of our hosts, rick, who grew up in corpus, met us at the train station in nantes. he was an old friend of fran's from college. he talked a lot, mostly about himself and his ideas, which i found slightly irritating at first; then i realized he was intelligent and interesting, and i gave in and listened to him gladly. he drove us to the home he shared with his french wife odile and their two daughters chloe and emma, in a tiny town called st. julien-de-concelles. we spent six days staying in their garage apartment on a patch of farmland that has been in odile's family for generations. it was so beautiful there, with amazing flowers (hydrangeas, passion flowers, calla lilies, portulaca, roses...) and a full veggie garden, from which we ate each evening. (the potatoes needed nothing... no salt, no butter... oh my gosh...)
rick and odile had an interesting relationship. at first i thought they were really on rocky ground with each other, like verging on divorce. their verbal interaction was intense and aggressive. i found myself embarrassed, afraid i was witnessing their collective downfall. later, however, fran assured me that they have always related to each other this way-- it's them. it's the way they interact. no imminent downfall to be worried about. after fran told me that, i felt a lot better and could freely observe their aggressive interaction, without fear.
while in our idyllic french country retreat, we did many fun things:
mont st. michel is a fortress/church/monastery/village that dates back to the 10th century. we walked all through it, marveling at room after room in this almost labyrinthine structure, full of sacred ghosts and shadows. its sheer size is almost too much for the brain to handle. up above, in the abbey prayer garden, for a second i thought i'd been there before, and for a couple of hours i wished i lived there again.
before visiting mont st. michel, we ate at the relais du roy. though it was elegant and the food was sublime, i felt uncomfortable at this restaurant. maybe it was my weak grasp of french. maybe it was the brisk, intimidating waitstaff. or maybe it was the camembert, whose flavor resembled gym socks.
we also visited a gorgeous, glamorous fortified port town called st. malo. we walked on the beach, out to an island, collected rocks, marveled at the view, soaked in the atmosphere, and then strolled down a cobbled street of the town, which was lined with stores containing high-ticket items. this place was destroyed during the second world war by the americans, and was rebuilt, stone by stone, in subsequent years.
finally... our small tour of the city of nantes came toward the end of our stay in france, so wasn't quite as extensive as it otherwise would have been, since we were a little exhausted. we didn't catch a rugby game; however, we did visit the cathedral (under renovation) and had a droll tour of it (all in french, but we could tell it was funny by the middle-aged tour guide's eyebrows and how they rose on the clever bits); and we walked through some of the castle. we sat outside at the incredibly ornate cafe la cigale (the cicada) and had tea and cakes of various kinds. nantes is the sixth largest city in france and has a sort of combination small-town/big-city feel to it, cosmopolitan yet not out of touch with its roots.
but in the final analysis, perhaps my most memorable moments were spent with fran and zoe and our hosts rick and odile around the dinner table each evening: simple, delectable dishes brought out at random, new stuff, leftovers, fresh from the garden, how do you make this?, oh it's simple, just some garlic, parsley and olive oil, put it in the oven for twenty minutes, talking about stuff, religion, capital punishment, vegetarianism, family, mushrooms, homosexuality, college friends, insurance, wine... all the things that matter in life.
my bottle of cointreau, bought at the paris airport with my last 20 euros, was manufactured in the town of angers, which was actually just "down the road" from where we stayed in st. julien-de-concelles. it arrived home safely, in the wayward bag (remember, the one that had apparently been attacked by dogs?), and is now resting in my refrigerator.
and though this is the end of my five-part blog series, make no mistake: i'll go back to france.
FOOTNOTE: i made a book of small sketches, based on photos i had taken in russia, and decided that i would leave one of my sketchbooks in a random place in paris. though i probably should have given one of them to the stranger making eye contact in the subway, i didn't think of it in time; so i had to leave the sketchbook under a bench in the paris train station. it was both a practical attempt at spreading my work around the world as well as a symbolic gesture of european artistic aspiration. i'm hoping to develop a website soon which will exhibit my burgeoning collection of drawings. i'll keep you posted on that.
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