It should all start slowly, without alarm. Creeping light makes the world go from black to blue. California is a crazy place. At Tita Do’s house I could walk outside and pick a lemon. Had a pomelo for the first time. Dulce packed up oranges and pomelos for me to take. I eat one and watch the light change, rising to the surface from the depths.
External memory temporarily wiped. New day, new blog software. Expression Engine was okay for a while (8 years), but I found it’s prone to attacks, and I didn’t have the skillz required to customize scripts. I have 8 years worth of blog posts and comments and a metric pantload of spam to prune. I’ll ask my geek friends to help me get the stuff back, but in the meantime… Oooh! …
The Basco Balikbayan Project: A Journey To Our Roots by lady basco — Kickstarter.
When I was eighteen, me, my sister, Elice, and my cousins Karen and Kathy went to spend the Summer in California. The west coast cousins and Titas and Uncles welcomed us as if we’d never left. It was home. There’s something magical about leaving your awkward teenage identity and arriving in a sunny place where you get to be this person you wanted to be, or who others think you …
Paper people by weez. Photo by Steve Jacobs It’s not obvious because there is no one next to them to give a sense of scale, but they’re pretty big.
Elaine suggests this is what I do. Could I drop pounds, scars and all the bits of effluvia left from when I attempted to excise memory? Joy says I am running backwards in time. I am Benjamin Button. I’ll pass my children into innocence and hope. This is doubtful. There are some things that don’t come back.
Counting down to the weekend. (Seventeen minutes). I am sitting in the front of the classroom as my students work. They are enjoying listening to “Snowcrash” as they animate. I am seventeen minutes from packing up my laptop and heading out to pick up the boys. There will be more work at home (finishing the paper people). There will be dinner out (I think). It is the new normal. I …
Listening to electro tango, shimmying around the house glue gun in hand. It’s a fierce combination. It’s the residual dance. Last night was the second belly dancing class of this session. It’s not a strenuous work out, but it’s the best thing for me to do. In the company of women, we’re swaying and connecting with this very grounded movement. No thinking is involved – or if there is any, …
This is not high art and that is no great matter. It is not that I have something to say but that I have said something and that is sufficient.
Construction of the paper people continues. So far pretty good. They are life size (which means a foot taller than me). I am trying to figure out how to articulate the joints so if I wanted to…no promises…I could animate them. Right now, thinking I just make each of the limbs independent units and put them together in a way that they can sit and rotate their arms, but that’s …
