Genoveva and I tried wedding dresses at a sample sale this weekend even when wearing one for real will be very scary. She has been living with her boyfriend for more than 4 years and just decided to tie the knot; not in a small cocktail, but the big thing, church and all. The first time someone proposed to me was at a Japanese restaurant; I’d just eaten a tuna-avocado roll and I had an urgent need to vomit. My boyfriend at the time fainted after asking the question blaming the magic mushrooms he had previously eaten that afternoon. The second time was not like a real proposition. In fact, I asked Victor to ask me if I wanted to get married with him. I’m not sure if I want to actually do it, I just wanted to get asked. In any case, we still need to get Geno’s dress, something that looks like a wedding gown without being one. That makes her not to feel a bride, but someone that is just getting married. I already bought the dress to wear at her party.

I was crossing 2^nd avenue this morning, already late for work, when a guy approached me and said “you are very beautiful”. I thanked him, smiled, and continue my way to get the usual 75-cent coffee from the Egyptian vendor. I have to say, the glow of such nice words is still floating around me. In the meantime Oscar is home resting his chicken pox while Laura and Pepe are still looking for a job in such a harsh scenario. We should say sweet things to and about other people more often; life will be way nicer.

 

I love spending time in my new bedroom.

We were trying to watch a movie but the projector failed. Laura, who is the only person that can make it work is already sleeping, so we resigned to the possibility of going to bed without watching the end of the film. My stomach is complaining as a result of eating too many peanuts while Oscar tries to solve the problem by gently tapping the back of the projector. Today was a nice day. Pepe and I walked around Soho and discovered 2 lofts dedicated to showing Walter de Maria’s work: hundreds of paralleled golden bars, and a 2 room apartment filled with humid soil. Both spaces opened during the late 70’s, and the idea that they survived the real state boom made them more interesting.

Sdenka and I went dancing to Mongo’s in Sopocachi after a long day of work. A couple of Brazilian gay men were dancing by us and I couldn’t stop staring at them. Somehow they reminded me of the great proximity of cultures you feel in South America, against the lack of diversity in Mexico, and the lack of interest from the US to Latin American cultures. The US behaves like the spoiled cousin and rarely or never acknowledges the influence it has received from the south, while dismissing the richness of its 34 neighbors.

My tongue got burned with the chicken broth and I’m still adjusting to the altitude of Bolivia. I drink coca tea wishing time goes by quickly so I can be back home, even more so to be with Victor sometime in March. I watch a dubbed version of The Doors and Val Kilmer talks about orgies and Greek myths in Spanish. Outside people cheer after a soccer match between the main Bolivian teams. I need to go to bed.

Our skin was dripping wet and we were driving on the coastline from our hotel to the beach with the big black pelicans. We still had the bottle of Veuve-Clicquot Victor had bought for New Year’s Eve, so we decided to open and drink it while taking our little ride through the rocky highway. We played a French disco song from the 90’s over and over again. The effect of the champagne didn’t last that long, and by the time we were back on the sand, we had sweated it all out.

It is already January 12^th 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.

I'm mad.

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 hope that after there is nothing left to greed upon the essence of ourselves remains.  I'm sure beauty will come in new and unexpected ways.

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.