Dispatch From LA

growling at something out there

 it figures that the second i wrote that the 2nd grade punks were shaping up, they all started sharpening their tiny fangs, hissing, spitting, cursing, writing nasty notes, making animal noises, blowing imaginary trumpets (loud), plugging their ears, and growling.

aw well.  1 step forward.  10 steps back.  it's all part of my master plan.

 i came home and read this poem.  and felt better.

thanks anna maria for pointing me in the direction of charles simic.  he's a wonderfully strange  person.  and everyone knows i love the weirdo poets the best of all.  my bretheren.

 

My Turn To Confess

A dog trying to write a poem on why he barks,
That's me, dear reader!
They were about to kick me out of the library
But I warned them,
My master is invisible and all-powerful.
Still, they kept dragging me out by the tail.

In the park the birds spoke freely of their own vexations.
On a bench, I saw an old woman 
Cutting her white curly hair with imaginary scissors
While staring into a small pocket mirror.

I didn't say anything then,
But that night I lay slumped on the floor,
Chewing on a pencil, 
Sighing from time to time,
Growling, too, at something out there
I could not bring myself to name.

by Charles Simic

~

oh and also.  i made arrangements to skip town the second my winter vacation starts.  going here:

elevation 7500 ft.

guess where.

small things that please me

are you watching the x factor?  did you see the burrito slinger fellow sing etta james' at last last night?  did you rewind and watch it over a few times like i did?

 

so good!

i love it when hapless people wander onto the stage and turn out to be shockingly talented.   love it.

and also...

today was a holiday

i got new ikea curtains for my living room {that fill the room with light}

ate huevos del valle de guadalupe at cacao for breakfast

my 29 little monsters are becoming slightly more civilized

tomorrow's friday 

the x factor is on again tonight

the end.

so long sunday

A special someone sent me a whole package of tiny vintage postcards from Budapest.  I'm using them as tabs on some pages.  I'll add some writing to this one later.

If you're in the FTB class, I made this journal kind of the way I made my Inspiration Journal.  Also like the Hidden Binding journal...Except I used one of those old photo scrapbooks from the 30's and 40's that are all over ebay.  You know the kind with the tie on the side?  Black pages on the inside.  I cut that long rectangular cover in half.  

Half of it is the front cover and the other half is the back.  It's leather embossed chipboard.  I think.  Those old scrapbooks have so much delicious potential!  And they are ridiculously inexpensive.  I might make another inspiration journal from the back cover.

Good thing I made my elastic closure really loose.  It fits perfectly now and won't get all stretched out.  I'm still stuffing photos in, but I'm nearly done.  I'll post better pics of each double-sided spread once I'm completely finished.  

time & light are kinds of loves

 

Friday.  A day set aside for rejoicing.  Instead of thinking about the 312 things I have to do back at school on Monday, I came home and read a poem.

I thought about how I watched this flower open in the dark on Thursday night.  While I stood out back shining my flashlight on the opening petals.  A real live magic show.  

This is a night blooming epiphylum.  She only blooms at night and only lasts until late morning.  If I hadn't been doing laundry in the garage.  If I hadn't of looked across the patio at the exact right moment.  If I hadn't found my flashlight in time.  I would have missed the show.

I bent my head down close and heard the petals brush against night air.  A tiny whoosh of air.  So tiny I might have imagined it.  Except I didn't.

Enjoy your weekend pleasures.  I'll just be here.  Sitting out in the sun.  Listening.

The Word   Down near the bottom of the crossed-out list of things you have to do today, between "green thread" and "broccoli," you find that you have penciled "sunlight." Resting on the page, the word is beautiful. It touches you as if you had a friend and sunlight were a present he had sent from someplace distant as this morning—to cheer you up, and to remind you that, among your duties, pleasure is a thing that also needs accomplishing. Do you remember? that time and light are kinds of love, and love is no less practical than a coffee grinder or a safe spare tire? Tomorrow you may be utterly without a clue, but today you get a telegram from the heart in exile, proclaiming that the kingdom still exists, the king and queen alive, still speaking to their children, —to any one among them who can find the time to sit out in the sun and listen.

by Tony Hoagland

the vinyl warriors

This 7 x 11.5 travel journal is larger than my others.  Some of the pages are covered with writing and nothing else.  

Sometimes I like the contrast of an all-photo page next to a page of all writing.  The strange b&w rose postcard is a vintage find from the Esceri flea market.  It was so hot on the day I bought it.  I was panting as I rifled through the old boxes.   The kind vendor hosed us down with a giant mister, soaking our shirts.  I held up my arms with postcards in both hands so I didn't get them wet.  My sister found her communist patron saint from the same lady.  We were gaggling over it when the woman's boyfriend came over, took the passport in his hand and studied it closely.   "My father!" he blurted out in a dramatic voice.  He probably didn't expect the big booming laughs that erupted from us.  The Moss Sisters laughing in unison.  Plug your ears!

Those are the things I remember when I use these bits & pieces of ephemera in my book.  Each thing has a memory associated with it.

Even the bits of handwritten advertising I pulled off walls and poles.  

I've posted about this before, but it bears repeating.  Keeping a travel journal while traveling is a full-time job.  On nights when I was tired I made sure that I at least got the writing & heading part completed.  I leave blank pages in between to go back and add my photos.  I'm enjoying this part very much.

Having twins?  Ever thought of a singular name for both children?  Just a thought...

Ganxta Zolee

In Budapest I kept finding street stickers.  I unstuck them from whatever surface they were on and restuck them in my journal.

I'm still adding photos & flea market finds to my pages.  Working at a snail's pace!

I pulled a wheatpasted street poster down on my first Budapest outing, cut it up, and added it to my journal.

If any of you are pregnant and expecting a boy, may I suggest the name above.  You know...something different.

My fence is completed.  I always love it when the job is done, the workers leave, and things get back to normal.

 
I think my sweet boy would have already sprayed every one of the pickets and established his territory.

when he wasn't napping...

or doing yoga.

reflecting

After spending the day with 29 (the number grows bigger each day) basic trainees it's really a relief to come home and sit quietly out back.  Reflecting on what worked & what didn't.  Thinking of how to do better tomorrow.  Having a much larger class creates a buzzing humming beehive of a class.  Fueled by junk food, video games, constant stimulation, noise and not enough sleep they present problems.  Riddles for my higher self to solve.  A monkey whisperer spends many hours of contemplation in the beginning of the year.  Especially the beginning.  Working out ways to use stillness, slowness, calmness and repetition.  You'd be wrong if you think I have it mastered.  I do not.  

Coming home to my brand spanking new fence calms me.  I walk through the yard admiring each picket.  so happy!

A gate will go across the walkway between the 2 posts.  You know more fence updates are coming.   You just know they are.  And in the meantime how about a couple more Budapest photos.  Both involving water.

Szechenyi Baths, where art thou when I need you?

picket fence

In memory of dearly departed Buck Moss a fence is being built around the perimeter of Moss Cottage.  Will be finished in a few days.  I strongly regret not doing it a long time ago.  A big dog or coyote can scale it if they really want to, but it affords some sense of protection and security from roving dangerous dogs.  There are too many off the leash in my neighborhood.

A privacy fence will also go up on the hill behind my house which will prevent dogs or humans from wandering around back there.  I'd like some more  bougainvillea, maybe a trumpet vine rambling along the fence.  The ground is solid and rocky up front - extremely difficult to dig.  Whatever I plant has to be hardy enough to grow in adverse conditions.

Went to see a beautiful movie this afternoon.  The book, The Elegance of the Hedgehog was a favorite.  So so good!  

Click off the ads so you can read the subtitles.

 

If you're a big crybaby like me you'll need kleenex.  The friend I went with didn't shed a tear so your mileage may vary (!)

peaceful saturday

bootcamp.  basic training.   

the little newbie 2nd grade punks still have their milk teeth.  

 after 16 years the new recruits haven't gotten easier to train. 

most human beings, even the wee ones, are not amenable to being herded.

and you know, trying to turn 28 little punks into ordered, organized, law-abiding citizens really really is like.

like...HERDING CATS.

only i don't have a horse or lasso.

 

you wanna know what i do all day long?  watch this:
 

 

after 3 long days my head hurts, my arse hurts, my back won't straighten.  

someone stuck a sponge bob sticker on my ankle during story time.

 
i don't know who.

somebody

drifting

26 chatterboxes

100 degrees

first day of school

electricity goes out

i drifted back to budapest...

i did not remove this apartment directory and bring it home to hang here in moss cottage.

 i didn't.

but i wanted to.

this was not today's lunch.

but i wish it had been.

you'll see a lot of these same photos in my travel journal.  and just like here some of them will go with my writing and some of them won't.

most of them won't.

apparently i love duck.  this one is in a mango orange sauce.  and served with nut covered potato bready puff balls with a bit of plum jam inside.  can one of you come over to my house and roast me up a luscious duck breast once a week?  please.

i'll make you one of these:

whaddayasay?

happy september

Collecting my Danube water sample was not nearly as difficult as I feared it would be.  It involved a low-impact run across 2 roads.  Climbing over one guard rail.  Picking my way down 1 stone staircase covered in broken glass.  Scrambling down to the water. Bending over and dunking the big measuring cup I brought from the apartment into said river.  Filling up old water bottle while sitting on a step.  My sister stood at the ready with rope and small inflatable raft just in case I took a tumble. Giant Buck kept watch from a nearby bridge in case he needed to pluck me out of the river with his kitty mouth.  

No need!

It's really September. 

I'm printing photos to add to my travel journal.  

Have you seen The Pioneer Woman's cooking show on Food Network?  Love.  It.  

I step back into school marm shoes tomorrow.

I need to apply for a new passport.

late summer in budapest

 

 

over and over you collapse with wonder

i miss budapest.  i miss buck.  today i took a nap with his box of ashes next to me.  maybe tonight i will put my bottle of carefully collected danube water under my pillow. 

i sat next to a dear hungarian woman named erzsébet on the flight home.  she told me about growing up in hungary after the war and communist times and leaving her country and family behind.  making a new life in new york.  eventually returning with her american husband and buying an apartment in budapest.  and about the priest and his mother who live in the apartment when they are not in budapest.  

we had a fascinating conversation.  and as we talked the plane swam through fields of wispy clouds so beautiful i wanted to cry.  

meeting erzsébet on the plane was such a sweet conclusion to my trip.  she had ice-blue eyes with beautiful lines all around them like a fine map.  i felt like i was looking into the radiant soul of hungary.

and i also want to tell you about this tiny bookstore crammed full of books.  and the owner.  and how i told him i would do a post on his charming store, but i lost the bag with all of the information printed on the outside.

if he somehow stumbles across this post i hope he leaves a comment with a link to his bookstore so i can add it.  because it really was a special place.  i told you before that budapest is a city that appreciates books.  as well as the bookstores, small and large, new and antiquarian, there are the book kiosks on many large corners.

...anyway this little store crowded with books was enchanting.  just a few doors down from Nándori Cukrászda on Ráday utca.  here's the pile i left with:

and look, a small outdoor library on the square just outside the apartment:

these are the things you discover about a city when you spend a couple of weeks wandering the streets.  small things bow before you. revealing themselves.  wish i was still there, tramping around.  lingering.  my heart misses budapest.

 over and over you collapse with wonder.

 the books, the people, old busses and trams, a certain melancholy in the grand faded buildings, small scenes all coming together.  i wish i had photos of the 2 stars of the movie i wrote in my mind.  one, a girl on the tram.  hefty, frizzy mound of hair pulled back, perfect ringlet sideburns, pink lipstick, awkward, kept pulling down her shirt, licking her lips. strangely applied black eyeliner, odd, quirky, mental capacity slightly diminished.  the young man another misfit.  very small, kept his towel around his waist, asked my sister to take his picture at the baths, nervous, shy, sweet, alone.  tram enthusiasts.  they're going to enter a chess championship and win! 

but in the end we had to leave budapest behind and fly back west, back home.  me still writing scenes, flying through clouds, my movie still looping through my mind.  sweet erzsébet dozing in the seat next to me.