Sunday, June 1, 2008

Busy is sometimes too much and often not enough

Sunday morning at the Huerta family house in Chula Vista. 29 years old and I still dig Sunday mornings with my family. My dad inevitably calls me early Sunday morning to ask me if I am coming over for breakfast, which is silly since I am over for breakfast almost every week. My ex-cat Icarus rules the Huerta house these days. Sadly, he attacks me every time I come over for a visit. Maybe he thinks I'm going to take him back. No such luck Icky kitty. This week I'm bearing three long scratches on my back ribcage from a cat v. poet altercation on Wednesday. The cat won.

Last week I flew happily to my old stomping grounds, San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico. Fanstasy camp for failed bohemians but I dig it anyway. I hadn't visited SMA in three years and was mostly thrilled to be back. The first night I clung to the back of my old painting instructor, Jeffrey Brown, as he drove me town around on his scooter. Scooter on cobblestones streets is exhilarating and a bit scary. We drank too much. Hangovers at 7000 feet are cruel. I remedied mine with a visit to the hot springs just outside of town. A good soak in the steamy minerals and I was un-pounded and mentally fertile again. Jeffrey is one of my favorite artists. I don't know why he doesn't show his work or sell it. His paintings entrance me. I can stare at them and get lost for hours.

Jeffrey and I have the best dialogue and arguments. It is Jeffrey's voice I often hear in my head in moments of uncertainty, commanding me to stop being a coward and to live courageously.

My main reason for visting SMA was to spend quality time with my favoritist La Creepy and her darling baby El Scrappy. La Creep's brother, Chef Donnie Masterton opened up a new restaurant called The Restaurant. The Restaurant was gorgeous, set up on an enclosed patio.

The food was incredible. Donnie is one hell of an amazing chef. Most of the food on the menu is organic and locally grown. I developed a palate crush on the ravioli, squash blossom one night and prune and goat cheese the next. Oh heart in my mouth! I could eat at The Restaurant every day.

Mexico was slight salve to my recent months of mental unrest. Moving to a new apartment, dealing with various physical injuries and a few non-physical ones too. I was going through my writing files the other day. I was devastated to realize that I haven't written a single poem since November. I've been dabbling in and out of my novel but not seriously. I haven't even been reading as much as usual. I went to a used bookstore yesterday and picked up eleven books. Last night I lined them up in bed next to me, trying to decide which one to get lost in first. But my heart wasn't in it, my heart hasn't been in anything lately. I turned off the light and went to bed. To quote Sam Cooke (though I am most certainly not the first) Change is gonna come.

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