It is already January 12th and I still haven’t written anything. The New Year came with high hopes and resolutions even when I received it laying on a couch after a bad indigestion for eating everything I could in Mexico. And even when welcoming the year while getting the chills through my spine wasn’t the most thrilling experience, I’ve been feeling that a new cycle just opened and somehow I’ve got the energy to start changing things around. Capuchi and Pepe helped to paint my bedroom; transforming it into a white box after being olive green for 4 years, and I already started a deep cleaning throwing away the kind of things that remind you about your unfinished projects and ideas. This will be a good year.

How to summarize the last month and a half of absence? From exhausting work and meeting with important production companies in Bogota, to visiting the surprisingly great (and masterfully blended) Jeff Koons exhibition in Versailles during my 4-day trip to Paris, and ending with a work trip to Bolivia, where my boss and me met with community radio stations that build their own transmitters. In the meantime Victor came to visit, the usual (love) reassuring trip, Maria Jose and Yoli moved back to Mexico, I discovered David Sedaris and became addicted to drinking kirs. Today, still under the antibiotics effect (to combat the intestinal infection which I got after eating llama in Bolivia) I'm packing to leave for Guadalajara. Well, I'm not actually packing yet, I'm still under my bed cover, listening to NPR and trying to force myself to get out of bed.

I’m eating peanut candy while I wait for Laura to get out of the bathroom. I need to take a shower, a warm one. I have a new script in mind, but it’s missing the main conflict of the story. I pieced together some situations leading to some other situations, but I need to know what is driving the character, or driving me to write it. It is a love story, not a happy one, but still beautiful. Juan writes: Entretemps, j’embrasse ta folie! I say: J’ embrasse la folie des autres, at least for now, or until the new priorities are settled in and we slow the pace.

We already had a couple of good-bye parties and dinners for Maria Jose, but tonight will be the last time we see her as a New Yorker, at least for now. I guess I’ll never get used to seeing friends leave the city; that’s just the way it is here. I’ve been nostalgic; Fall get’s me in the mood. Last weekend Laura and I went to the coffee shop in Astoria where I met Hara before she moved back to Cyprus, and where we (old friends, most of whom already left) used to spend the nights drinking Shiraz. We were poor freelancers, but somehow it all just felt right. We felt closer to art and creativity than we feel today, even when we had no secure income to pay the rent. Now Pepa is leaving and I guess I will be nostalgic in the years to come about what we did these past few months.

We drove along the Hudson shore and ate pulled pork sandwiches with sweet potato fries.

And we stopped by the river and smell the coldness of the water until the sun sank and we started shivering.

It’s been a while since the last time I wrote. I’ve visited Victor in Mexico, the trees are already red, orange and yellow, and we’ve hosted several dinner parties at our house. Economy is as unpredictable as it was a month ago and Obama seems to be ahead in the presidential race, at least as of this morning. I started wearing my coat, putting salt on my lips after feeling threatened by cold sores and wondering how New York women manage their time. I need to take a time-management course and learn how they look beautiful (having perfectly polished nails, straightened shinny hair, treaded eyebrows and ironed clothes), exercise every morning, work full-time jobs, raise kids, spend time with their husbands, enjoy regular sex, go to therapy, be creative, and above all, don’t get stressed.

I’ve been having trouble falling asleep. Even last night after a few sakes, and a warm feeling on my stomach it was hard to stop the thinking and start dreaming. I want to be at a big family gathering, have an engaging conversation after sharing dessert and later go home to cuddle while watching a movie.

Today I felt like staying home. Apathetic about meeting new people or about seeing the old and known faces from the Mexican artsy-film world.  I blamed cramps and justified myself for staying home. I read the newspaper; about The Class, the French movie that won at Cannes, and about Warren Buffett and the history of his investments.  The key word Warren says is focus. That is of course if you already know what you want; he wanted money. 

I watched Lisbon Story again last night and as always it made me feel nostalgic of something that hasn't happened yet.

I spent more than $40 for dinner tonight, way more than I was supposed to, and certainly more than what I paid for a meal from Trader Joe’s last week. I have another $40 for the rest of the month and I’m sure I’ll need to dive into my savings account to get through.

I ate a great porchetta sandwich for dinner at Yolanda’s friend/boyfriend new restaurant in the East Village. Now I have to deal with a full stomach and the guilt that my tummy is getting bigger. I like when women look sexy regardless their weight; when they know that sensuality comes from below the skin. I will read a few pages of my book on Mexican politics before going to bed.

Today feels like yesterday, and like the day before yesterday, and the one before. When someone asks me how I’ve been, I can proudly say I’m fine, although I have no news to deliver. Being fine means you are doing much better than most people.

Things do get better, eventually.

Little E is 7 months old. Her mother has been my friend since highschool and the last person I could imagine with a baby. E’s father took all his furniture from their house today, so her mother has to figure out a way to build a (pretty) home for them again.

What if we take a bath together? Do you mean like brother and sister? I’ve seen this movie 30 times, and I still get anxious. Yolanda, Oscar, Laura and I are debating whether we’ll stick with the husband or the lover; 3 of us picked the husband. I had dinner with Maria Jose and after a long conversation we agreed on the necessity of gratitude as part of our emotional survival kit. On a more visceral note, we coincided on the strange pleasure of watching the markets plummeting, and the pictures of Lehman Brothers staff carrying their cardboard boxes outside their Times Square office. Are we getting close to hitting the bottom? We are scarily waiting for the economic crisis to strike us.

We’ve been hanging the mirrors on the walls as a way to capture every bit of light possible. I’ve been trying to convince Marco that art belongs to no one, just to itself, so he will agree to sell me another engraving by Jose Fors. I’ve also been thinking in ways to improve my life at the cubicle. It will be great to have a bit of sunlight, a few plants and birdcages. It will be even greater to take down the walls so I can actually see and talk to Sylvia and Mark. Can’t we just work from Bryant Park?

I'm waiting for Pepe to call so we can meet at the Thai place for dinner. It's the end of the summer and things already feel different. The violence in Bolivia has shifted my travel plans, and gave my work in this country a new meaning. Most likely I'll be there in October launching a 3-year program, and hoping that peace replaces the calm tension.
10:54 PM - We had green curry with chicken, coconut rice and vegetable dumplings, and later we watched a Jean Cocteau's movie from 1930. I want to write a script about silence and film it with my 8mm camera.

"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy who'll decide where to go."
- Dr. Seuss -

Victor is probably drawing circles on a notepad while talking to his partners on the phone. Meanwhile I watch an illustration of cats living inside oranges while listening to an old song by Sigur Ros which makes me feel good. I had a great Sunday two days ago when I visited the Louise Bourgeois exhibition and bought my first art piece, a print from Jose Fors. I liked Louise’s sense of humor and the way her work matures over time on her recurring list of personal memories and issues. Everybody has issues, but not everyone knows how to make something beautiful out of it. I asked Queta how she thought beauty remained and manifested during or after chaos, she hesitated without giving me an answer.