Point Lookout

We had dinner in a fish restaurant next to an eighty year old couple.
The man was quiet. I don't think he had any teeth.
The woman told us she was worried about having left the upstairs windows open in the rain. She had red manicured nails and wore gold jewelery.
They ordered one plate of pasta and shared it. They still only ate half.
They took the two biscuits that came with it home in a plastic bag.
They didn't say one word to each other, but obviously shared a life. Literally. Talking had become an unnecessary task.

P.S.

It wasn't cold, but rained tonight. Maybe the American sky was crying because the USA lost from Ghana earlier that day.
(I wanted Ghana to win, they were just so excited with their extravagant make up, dancing, and flags. The last African country standing.)

NYC story (a small book)

Made by Tobias Wong, who died last week.

Things I would like

Shoes that don't fall apart.
Finishing what I started.
New clothes. Preferably by Celine Paris.
A ticket to Brazil.
Cooking skills.
More time.
A camera. Still.
Concentration.
A night spent dancing.
The Wire season 4.
Sleeping in.
Drinks with girlfriends from overseas. Preferably Mojitos.
Productive Insomnia.
A bunch of Peonies.
And the oil to stop flowing and world peace. Obviously.

The day I wore the wrong dress

I drank an ice coffee that made me yawn for the rest of the day.
It was too hot to cycle all the way up to 37th street.
I ate eggs at 4 PM.
I felt uncomfortable talking to someone I hadn't seen in a while. It went away after five minutes.
I took a nap and thought I had bedbugs.
I was nervous about writing.
I was nervous without knowing exactly why.
I drank water because I thought it was dehydration that made me feel down,
Our internet was extremely slow.
Everything moved slow. Even the sun.

The day I had a migraine

I watched the Wire season 3.
I bought nose spray.
I took three exedrine migraine.
I finished leftover potato leek soup.
I thought about father's day.
I thought about writing.
I watched Kaka from the Brazilian team get a red card and laugh about it.
I wished the day lasted approximately three hours longer.

The day France lost to Mexico

I was jumped on by a dog and wasn't scared.
The people at the post office made me feel like I belonged.
I ate pumpernickel bread and felt very healthy, even though it was a little dry.
I was home alone for a while.
I had to think about money. Other people's and my own.
I spoke to my mother.
And my father while I was doing groceries. He thought that was funny.

What I ate today

Yoghurt and Grape Nuts
Croissant
Ice Coffee
Hot Dog
Rotisserie Taco
Steak Taco
Half an avocado
Not enough water

The day I almost passed out on a bridge

An orthodox man told me to breathe through my nose and drink water. He was leaning against the railing and smelled like old socks.
I walked the rest.
I visited some friends to talk about doing a play in their house. The hostess sat on a full ashtray and couldn't stop laughing about it. We all laughed with her although it came to a point where it wasn't really that funny. They had a cat called cash money. I sat next to a saxophone.
When I got home I decided to wash my sheets.

Sent

Wel bijna klaar?
What about asking Julia if she would be ok with it? I think it's the best option so far. Yes, because it's free.
Just emailed those guys. Hoping to hear from them at some point today.
Yup.
Done with work! Where are you?
How did meetings go?
Sorry don't have this number in my phone. Who is this?
Ha!
No worries.
Where are you guys?
Ew...
Sad! Soon though.
Zijn jullie al in Santos?
Ben naar huis.
Hope rehearsal went well. Sorry I couldn't make it.
What time is your appointment at the salon tomorrow? Might ask Pink to cut my hair at the same time.
Amazing if you can help out Saturday.
So good seeing you as always. I've missed you.
Love you back L Poo.
Spoke to Jordan, he wants to do it, but might have something else that day. Sent his agent an email to find out.
I would go but I'm in the train already!

Things I stare at

Beautiful people. Sometimes I get in trouble.
My ceiling. Paint has cracked.
People's shoes. I always noticed when someone in my class had new shoes, because I kept track of all the shoes they owned.
Television. On or off.
Dancing people. Good or bad.
Clocks. Because I don't have a watch.
Books people read on the subway.
Puzzles of any kind.
Tattoos that are half covered.
My email. Because someone unexpected could decide to send you something.
Empty or half filled pages.
My fingernails.
Taxi driver's names and picture in the back of a cab.

Blushing

My body is extremely reactive. When I get nervous my heart starts beating extremely fast. When I'm embarrassed I blush, or rather turn bright red, usually for a minute or so. When it happens I try to cover my face with a hand or look the other way, probably making it even more obvious. Yesterday someone, a friend, asked why I looked so nice (I was wearing a dress) and if I did it because I finally decided to go on a date with him. The person in question a, has a girlfriend, b, was clearly joking, c, is never actually serious about anything he says, and d, said it to amuse the people standing around and successfully so. They all laughed, as I quickly was undergoing a severe chameleon-like transformation. It didn't make any sense at all. You're making a mistake, I wanted to tell my face, this is not a reason to blush. But then again, if it was up to me I would never blush at all.
Children are cute when they blush, adults (if that's what I am) less so. I wonder if it passes with age.

Things I thought about

Being in love. How does it happen. And why. And how is it possible that some people are always in love, and some people (me) rarely? Is there some sort of button in my brain I should be switching on? Cause if so, this button must be rotting away somewhere without me knowing.
Parents who tell their children they are dead to them for being gay. Is that a scare tactic or do they actually hate their children that much?
Air-conditioning. Because I have it now and can't figure out why there is still a piece of polystyrene inside of it. Also the word polystyrene. I prefer the Dutch word, piepschuim (peepfoam).
Why I got upset about a boy asking me to buy him a drink yesterday. He didn't really ask actually, he hinted at it in a semi obvious way. I thought this wouldn't have bothered me so much, since I do believe in gender equality and all that. Sort of. I guess my feministic tendencies don't expand that far. There is something to be said for gentlemanly behaviour. The boy in question owned a miniature husky, called Biggie, whose face he had tattooed on his chest. I should have known.

Imagining things

Last night I went to see Sarah Ruhl's Passion play at a church in Clinton hill. I biked back over the bridge. No other people were there. Just me, the bridge, the moon, a couple of cars and the soothing lights of the skyline. I thought about the play and the division of church and state and how the roles we play effect who we really are. I wondered what it would be like to play Mary Magdalene year after year (or Virgin Mary, which might be worse). I wondered if anyone still believes in god the way people used to. And how this image is always changing. Maybe one little girl somewhere imagines god to be a big teddy bear with a candy stomach, while her mother pictures him as the man from the Dolce and Gabana perfume ads. It seems like the contradictive quality of repressive religion is the fact that religion allows or forces complete freedom to imagine, yet any form of vivid imagination is pronounced as the greatest sin of all.
We live in a world of declining imagination. Thankfully there are people like Sarah Ruhl who know how to keep it alive.

The day I melted

Federer lost the quarter final to Soderling. It is also the day I decided to support the Swede in his future endeavers (meaning the semi final and or final). I've always had an incurable love for Swedish culture (meaning Astrid Lingren) since I was a child, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch. I had extended fantasies of growing up in the Swedish country side, jumping over fences, playing with the other blond haired rosy cheeked farmer children and baking hundreds of cookies during Christmas. And then the language of course. Nobody could ever say anything stupid or boring in Swedish. The language would simply not allow it.
Besides being Swedish, Soderling also has his dimples going for him. What woman could possibly resist a man with dimples?