Blue jay killed

We had an accident in my backyard. A bluebird was killed. There was a cat lurking under the trees that ran off upon seeing me. A guilty cat.

The blue jay was majestic. Its feathers, what fashion designers fail to attempt, untouchable breathtaking beauty. A mixture of grace, grandeur and humbleness. A quality of frailty and strength.

Its blue striped feathers dotted the lawn like the scene of a tragic opera. Looking at it lying there, I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do. The story finished before I could interact or intercede.

Touched, I went to retrieve a little box with tissue paper. I dug a hole. It helpted to do something. Gently placing the bird in the silver and white paper, then in the box, which seemed inappropriate for something that seemed so pure and blue, like a piece of the sky broken off, I placed him in the ground and covered him with dirt. I found blue flowers which I placed at the site.

Life seems quite ambivalent to it's little creatures.

Walking away

I'm going away for one month to take care of my house in St. Barth. I am not sure returning to NY is such a great idea. I am not really invested in my job, which is thoroughly unfulfilling, nor do I have an apt I need to hold on to, nor do I have anyone here to return to.

I can just walk away...

SWIM

I want to submerge myself in clear blue water and swim until I can't move anymore, then i want to devour cheese puff balls with Heineken, and collapse in a white hammock, focusing on my rhythmic breath.

Study of the unwitting development of evil

I once had a subway conductor who would seemingly, intentionally, and quite cruelly refuse to leave the stations in a timely manner. First he would fuss for ever with the doors, then once closed, he would wait a full minute to 3 minutes before launching off as we all held our breath fearing the doors would pop open once more. This, while rush hour is in full swing and everyone has run in a frenzy to make this subway so they can make their train, which will leave you behind regardless of any sadistic conductor you may meet. Our eyes glancing in a repetive tick-like motion to our watches our faces a combination or resignation, frustration and anxiety.

Having missed my train, I leisurely walk up to his window and glare at him, he takes off right away.

For a very brief moment, I had an insane, yet repressed desire to take on a gypsy accent and say I curse you, your family, your children, their children, their grandchildren, their great grandchildren, in fact I realize I am cursing all of humanity, which is probably in a small subtle way what this conductor is attempting.

I exhale and go for flying saucer ice cream.

Leaving for St. Barth in 2 weeks

I still don't have luggage. I still don't have any capris which are so very necessary there (pants being too hot, shorts too casual, dresses to fussy, capris generously leave mosquitos that window at their disired ankle area for them to gnaw on). My house is still not cleaned. My shopping is still not done. I am still fussing over the baggage requirments and pondering the possiblity that they may really make me pay excess baggage from St. Martin to St. Barth. I am caught between the desire to play it safe and bring the only 40 pounds per traveler permitted and sneaking in extra pounds based on the fact that the airline is generally pretty customer friendly and has allowed me to do so in the past.

I am caught one foot hovering in mid air, the other staunchly anchored to the ground.

I realize that this is also a very accurate description of my life. This perpetual over sucrutinizing of possibilities that I lack enough information to make a logical decision about coupled with lots of unfinished business that may never be attended to. So I stand perplexed, not moving forward, yet also not moving backward, a foot in mid-air.

Leaving for St. Barth in 3 weeks

I am leaving for St. Barth in 3 weeks to take care of my house. My tenant who has grown into the habit of habitually paying late and is presently 3 months behind has promised that if he were not able to provide me with the full payment by the July he would leave. Which I suppose I should be grateful for as it didn't require legal intervention to have him removed. He opened a restaurant which apparently is not working out as he expected so I can only be understanding, these things happen and he said he would pay me the past months in increments.

Then just as I thought I was becoming use to this idea and make plans to visit my house for renovation and enjoyment, the neighbor who borders my little pool and the back side of my house, has recently taken to massacre the native palm trees that divide his property and my house. I am thankful I am not there to see those poor trees that took decades to grow in harsh dry land lie helplessly on the ground looking up at the sky wondering what they did to deserve this. My privacy vanquished, my house standing there with large multiple doors open allowing the birds to fly through is now also on display for these neighbors.

The natives on the island seem to suffer from a strange affliction, of chopping down all the trees on their property and sometimes even on other peoples property that borders their land. Then they complain that it's hot, it doesn't rain, that there's no water to be had. Try to tell them that trees provide shade, maintain humidity and encourage rain and watch as they look at you like you mentioned that they need to plant magnets in order to make refrigerators. I won't mention to them that trees are attractive, I am sure to get a look of pity.

I am building a wall. I may not be able to stop them from destroying their land, but I will preserve mine and the wall, which holds humidly and will reduce the wind that batters my trees will serve to protect them. It will also thankfully separate me from those people.

Grandmother Florestine Left

I woke up early this morning feeling something was amiss. It was too early to wake up and I had gone to bed sinfully late. But, there I was looking at my watch, struggling to make sense how it could be so early when my body felt like to move, roam, run, eat, and move forward with my day. I feel a slight anxiety, an obscure excitement. The phone rings, I hear my cousin speaking from the other room where the answering machine is. I am amazed he would call me so early. I think about getting up to check but my sleeping mind cannot put together any possibly alarming scenario that would warrant depriving me of possible sleep which might come to me, which I would appreciate later in the day, like a traveler lamenting the weight of his bags but thankful for the contents later. I twist and turn. I worry about my not being able sleep. I am generally a good sleeper. Something is not right. Something, but what. I run over in my mind my day and fail to find anything that would cause me this flighty feeling.

Later when its time to get up I play the answering machine, apart from my cousin's call, there are 2 other messages on it from my uncle. He sounds very sad but does not mention why he calls. I think about my grandmother. My mind draws up an image of her in her wheel chair, thin, sad, but perhaps worse than these, she is resigned. I wanted to visit her more often but that look and the fact that she couldn't hear me stopped me from visiting as often as I wanted. She tells me about taking care of my teeth. My family reassures me that this is what she says now.

I remembered how she like to wear pants when everyone else on the island her age only wore dresses. I remember appreciating how she kept her house spare. Giving away things that took up room. All these years I had thought it was the architecture of the house that appealled to me, but having returned their later, I realized it was also the way she kept it so that air and sun could flow through. It was all simplicity and lightness. I share with her the way she liked to garden and see things grow.

For years I avoided seeing her because of some issues we had, when i returned, she was gone in a way and now she has left entirely.

I will light an candle for her tonight so that she may find her way.