fromthemouthofmoi

I feel a level of panic. None of this feels psychotic but what I am going to write may sound psychotic. I just feel shaken, but I feel safe. The panic I think, just hear me out, is that I am dying. That I am preparing to go. Stay with me on this... Back in the late 70's I met a man in New York City whom I shall refer to here as, C. He was visiting from Denmark. We met on a subway platform headed downtown. He approached me to ask for directions and it just so happened that where he wanted to go, I was going too. I was on my way to a party on the Lower East Side but I did not tell him this as I didn't want him to think I was inviting him. I took him to Phoebe’s, a restaurant/bar around the corner from the party to talk with him further. During the conversation, he drew a picture of me and we continued to enjoy one another just spending time talking. At one point I excused myself from the table and went to call the hosts of the party, The McKenna’s, to ask if I might invite...

I've returned to Blanche's house on South Street. The door is open as it always was, and I enter. I go up the short flight of stairs to the living area but the room is dark, cluttered, dusty and hung with Christmas ornaments. All the curtains have been drawn. I feel happy to be there and the condition of the house has not sunk in yet. I continue to wander around, going to the kitchen thinking I will make her a cup of coffee for when she returns. It is then that I notice the kitchen cupboards are blue and metal, half ajar, and no longer lovely wood. I also notice that all of the Christmas garlands are strung so low that I have to bend down to pass under. On a table, piled high, are various electronic music systems and I frantically search for the stereo that once belonged to her. I find it and wonder why it has been packed away in such a careless manner and why so much dust has accumulated upon it. I go into her office room where once a piano stood and instead there is a couc...

A couple of weeks back I saw that a concert was to be given by The International String Quartet of Yucatan. My friend Ben and I went, and honestly, I was not expecting much of anything. I had, earlier in the year, gone to the Merida City Ballet and that proved to be such a disaster that I simply found myself skeptical concerning things referred to as 'classical' in Merida. The ballet was so profoundly disappointing that at one point during the performance I found myself looking around the theatre to see if anyone else was laughing. It was a real Candid Camera type of performance. Ballerinas falling on stage, male dance partners spinning ballerinas around so violently that I held my breath half expecting them to be flung offstage...ballerinas being spun because they weren't able to pirouette on their own. It was really spectacularly awful. All the rows in my near vicinity were occupied by people with smart phones filming the performance; not one thought turing off thei...