far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Thursday, May 22, 2008

Since returning to the west side of the Atlantic (leaving behind sweet, full-bore Madrid springtime for Vermont's slow, teasing, often fickle turn from late winter toward the warm season), have been dealing with the backwash of the last months in Madrid and the prospect of making drastic changes in what remains of my life in this part of the world. Vermont countryside slowly shifts away from winter austerity, the mornings bringing birdsong instead of winter silence, while my system makes the transition from Spanish life (not a sedate tea party of a process).

Outside, after a stretch of springlike days, the green of newly awoken grass is frosted with sprawling sprays of dandelions. Above, the sky reflects my inner state, going blue to gray and back unpredictably, often in open defiance of the forecasts. Behind all that, I feel a steady source of light, and when I take a moment to count blessings, I find plenty to be grateful for.

One evening of an especially springlike day, me in the living room watching a DVD of the series Weeds. Birds come and go at the feeder outside an open dining room window. The credits roll, 'Tea for the Tillerman' plays over them. At the window, a purple finch joins in, bursting into loud joyous song, its music resonating through the rooms at this end of the house.

In recent days:

In Montpelier: a truck sports a sticker in its rear window reading I DON'T KNOW. I can relate.

Visiting friends in Cambridge, Mass., spring putting on a spectacular show of flowering trees and bushes -- vibrant displays of white, pink, rose, lavender everywhere. Out trekking around the city's eastern reach, coming across a Frank Gehry building, it looking like a something plucked from a comic book and planted in the middle of an otherwise normal urban street.



Milkweed fluff drifts through country air, sometimes thick enough that driving through it feels like entering a spring snowstorm.

I watch 'No Direction Home,' for the next two days 'Visions of Johanna' occupies the #1 slot in my internal jukebox, portions of it drifting softly through my thoughts over and over (relieved now and then by bits of 'It's Alright, Ma....'). A gentle soundtrack that softens some of the days' rougher edges.

This inner jukebox thing? Sometimes I have no problem with it at all.

I'm up far too early as I write this, my body still working on Spanish time. Outside, darkness slowly gives way to daylight, the temperature hovers just above freezing. An online weather map shows a band of showers moving in our direction. Time to call it quits, slip back between the sheets for a while.

Later.




Espaņa, te echo de menos

rws 6:42 AM [+]

Monday, May 12, 2008

This evening, northern Vermont:




Espaņa, te echo de menos

rws 7:19 PM [+]

Friday, May 02, 2008

This afternoon: standing in a bank in Montpelier, Vermont, writing out a deposit slip in the amount of one dollar in pennies. Realizing at some point that they had a radio station piped in, my hand stopped writing as the music registered, Brian Wilson's voice soft and clear, singing 'Good Vibrations.' Which for some reason triggered a memory from this last Tuesday morning, me sweeping the floor in the living room of the flat in Madrid, the room austere, empty of most everything belonging to me apart from a battered boombox (hardy, dependable despite ten years of hard use, including a trip from one side of the Atlantic to the other) set to Radio 3, Iggy Pop's version of 'China Girl' reverberating off the space's white walls.

Out in the hallway, workers continue ripping down the plaster ceiling. The noise filters through two doors -- to the flat, then to the living room -- pounding and voices reduced to a level that made it all somehow coexist harmoniously with Iggy.

Not sure exactly how long I stood like that in the bank, immersed in my recent past. Ten, fifteen seconds. Came to, blinked, finished writing deposit slip, brought it to a window where the fact of depositing one dollar in pennies provoked laughter from the teller, pretty eyes closing to become pretty slanted lines for an instant as she laughed, face radiating a degree of enjoyment not often seen in that sober institution.

So. Back in northern Vermont, my bod still on European time, waking me up at ungodly hours. Temperature outside the dining room window this morning, 7 a.m.: 24° F. Skies gray, trees showing the first meager traces of green, grass beginning to show some life. As I walked in the kitchen door a couple of hours ago, movement outside caught my eye, I turned to see the curve of a hawk's shadow glide quickly across the grass. One in a constant stream of reminders that I'm not in Madrid any more.

Not in Madrid. (For now.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday, Logan Airport, Boston::




Espaņa, te echo de menos

rws 5:40 PM [+]

BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





This page and all its contents copyright © 2001-2011 by runswithscissors unless otherwise noted.


runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



Syndicate This Site


Blogarama

BlogCatalog

Bloggapedia, Blog Directory - Find It!



technorati profile

Subscribe with Bloglines

www.flickr.com
runswithscissors' photos More of runswithscissors' photos