Danilo

Danilo sat outside the supermarket the other day, despite all the rain. He was squatting against the wall, hood up, one hand around 66cl of warm beer and the other buried in his pocket. It was 9 in the morning.
He seemed forlorn as I passed him by, avoiding everyone's gaze and content
just to stare down at his shoes. I briefly wondered if the weather were getting to him as well. We have had endless rain.
I tried not to splash him from the nearby puddles as I skipped past, clutching my umbrella madly while attempting to maneuver
around the older folk on the sidewalk. Naturally, they were in no particular hurry to get anywhere while I, as usual, had a bus to catch.
Few days pass that I don't see Danilo at his place near the market doors. His disposition is generally sunny, and he loves to chat with the passers-by that deign to greet him. The security guards know him well and spend their smoke breaks keeping him company.
As many times as I pass in front of the shop, from morning until evening, chances are
Danilo will be there, drinking. One morning he was well through his first 66er and it was only 8:10am. I look at him like that, sometimes perched against the wall, other times seated on the curb, and I ask myself how quickly rock bottom can hit you. I have a taste for the drink myself, so I have often wondered where the line between pleasure and disease begins and ends, and when does one stop caring that there may be a "problem."
Danilo, always the same. Ropy, oily, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail above a ruddy, tired face. He often smiles, but his burnt chestnut eyes are half-closed, distant, and look
through you, as if he were looking at the portrait of a life he once had and now barely recognizes.
He leaves me perplexed, and saddened. This can't be the way he imagined it would go.
I'm certain he didn't want to lose his family, his job, and have to depend on the kindness of
others. They tell me it's only been a couple years. But I wonder when it really started. What was the first real disappointment that tore at his heart and began turning one vodka into a double? One beer into a liter? An evening drink into a lunch beer into a morning coffee spike?
One day I'll ask him. Instead of just saying hello and going on my way, one day I'll
stop and listen to this man's story. Because I'm certain few ever have.
To some, he's just funny Danilo...but to most, he's the drunk, the bum,
the lazy no-good beggar.

makin' love on the heath

That was just to get your attention. Though a great line in an excellent Faithless song it is.
Attention...something that my erratic and sporadic posts have not captured, at least of late. Then again, I haven't had a whole lot to say, especially recently. My life has been "on hold" now for a year. And by life I mean all the things I love doing outside of work. I have had to suspend my hobbies, except for running, because for one reason or another I passed a year
studying, dealing with bureaucracy and the legal system here, and in general trying to keep what little sanity I have left.
So, I have what seems to be just one more hurdle ahead. At least in terms of what I can effectively do. Whilst I toil away into the late evenings studying literature, history, and language, I feel grateful that I can afford the time, and that even if forced to study something, I am at least not obliged to give exams in physics, math, and chemistry. That would have been a riot.
All the immediate madness should finally be over by the end of the year. And what a year it has been.
So for the moment I am very, very busy. Between working and trying to get through a year's worth of material in 2 months, I have my hands full. Yet, something has returned to me that I haven't possessed in a while: hope. My heart is hopeful that all will turn out as it must, which may not necessarily be how I want it, but I am serene enough now to accept the final decision, whatever it may be. I'll just have to be patient enough to sit it out. I waged my battle, there is little more I can do.
I am looking forward to the "end" of this all, because in January I would like take up my reading once more, my music history studies, and that novel I began writing is still there, waiting for me to give new life to my characters. I am undecided whether to embark on a new instrumental adventure, and if so...what? The guitar? Go back to the piano or the cello?
I'll decide, in due time.
I can already taste the freedom...it's almost over. As they say in French and at the end of the movie L'Haine...jusq'ici tout va bien.

now what the hell?

I am losing my mind it seems. Things are taking their toll on me. I am desperately trying to concentrate, keep the blinders on, continue forward. Yet, it's not working. There are distractions.
My mind itself created a whole bunch these past two weeks making it nearly impossible for me to have made any real progress in my studies. And time flies. Tic toc tic toc. My concentration is shot, apparently the blinders were kept in place with post-its, because they keep slipping. And my legs are heavy with despair and passive-aggressive resistance to the idea of these exams.
Yet, I must remember how much is riding on the outcome of all this. How important it is so as not to completely eradicate what I have worked a year to achieve, then lose, then partially regain.
I beseech myself to get it together. I have been so brave thus far, how can I falter now?

wow!

Today I stopped by the pet shop and found vegan cat food!
I had to look twice to be sure I was reading the label correctly, but there
it was, "NO ANIMALS WERE KILLED TO MAKE THIS FOOD, 100% VEGAN FEED" staring me in the face. I'm sure to all you cosmopolitan people out there this may not be
news at all, but I was shocked. Here I was, giving my kitties holistic bio
meat (I wonder if they have Almonature in America?) which is still
worlds better than what those scientists at Iams or Purina produce.
But I was in search of a possible alternative.
I still intend to feed them Almo because I sort of feel bad about forcing my cats
to be vegan when it's in their nature to eat meat (and they don't have a voice with which
to express consent).
But it's nice to be able to
vary their diet and not always have to give them 19 euros of chicken or
salmon and be able to provide 15 euro veggie feed. The experiment began
this evening. We'll see how much they eat by morning.

how time flies 2

Wow. It has been, again, a really long time.
What has happened since I last wrote?
Well, I worked a lot. Then I went far away, to a place
that made me feel completely out of this world.
The hurricane just missed us and while the south now
trembles I am relieved that it is now down to a level 3
storm. Still...
In the meantime, my parents moved and my brother changed schools.
I just got bit by an unidentified spider and now I am praying
that necrosis doesn't set in. I mean I am really really afraid
of losing a limb. The bite continues to swell and itch like a bitch and
I can do nothing but wait.
On a tragic note, the other night my husband's childhood friend died in
a scooter accident. Details are still hazy, but Christ-on-a-Cross what does
it mean when a 31-year-old man dies for no reason whatsoever while coming
home from work?! What a pointless death for a great guy, who had an incredible
future in front of him as an athlete. Again, I can't help but think that if God actually
exists he must be laughing his ass off at all this nonsense and suffering in the world.
I really don't have much else to say. I am too tired and bitter to analyze anything.

how time flies

As usual, I have tons to say but little time and even less will to put it all into words.
So, a quick update for the moment and when I finally get myself organized
I will write more.
Work is winding down...a lot. I mean...so little I would starve were I alone.
Little vacation came, kicked the shit out of our budget, and went. Let me give
you advice: if they tell you going to Spain is cheap, don't believe them. Seriously.
Unless paying 60 euro to get into a club and 17 euro for a vodka redbull inside
is what you call cheap.
I now have a better understanding as of what will be expected of me in the next 4 months.
It involves a lot of studying and spending money, and of course work. Let the good times
roll. And more on this adventure soon.
My back is killing me, and every day I am behind on yoga is a day closer to my being able to
apply for that job playing bells at Notre Dame. At least my French would improve.
That's all for now.

cripes

I don't know what the hell is happening to my family.
I feel like I don't know these people anymore, though I have to admit
I have often asked myself "Am I adopted?"
If I didn't look so much like my Dad I might be worried.

Anyway, if things go on like this they are going to send me to the looneybin.
I have a mother, father, and little brother. And I am nothing like them.
Above all my younger sibling. I mean...much younger.
He'll be turning 18 this October, and I couldn't feel further away from him
than I do right now. If our conversation strays from movies or music,
we have little else to say to one another. There is an enormous rift between us and
upon inspection, I don't know if it is there because of the age difference, or if a lot of unspoken
questions have just slowly worn away at the fissure.
One enormous issue is that I expect a lot of him, and that sounds very parental.
And it is. I have been taking care of this kid my whole life, if only emotionally of late.
Perhaps too much.
I have the feeling that if I don't pick up the phone and speak to my mother on his behalf,
he falls apart. He isn't able to stand up for himself and make himself be heard or understood
effectively. And that is my fault for always standing up for him. How will this apply later in his life?!

I suppose I get angry because I had it rough...I mean really bad when I was young. And this isn't
envy speaking...in hindsight I am glad I had the tortuous upbringing I had because it has made
me a stronger person today. A person who doesn't falter.
He is so fortunate and doesn't realize it, and that's what pisses the hell out of me.
He has a raging, rampant case of what I call "Wonderbread Suburban Syndrome:"
He doesn't have to work, take care of younger siblings, cook dinner for them while the parents (or parent) works
two shifts at the Denny's...he doesn't live in a crappy apartment battling roaches
and having to dodge the eviction notices because Mom can't afford the rent.
He lives in a beautiful home in the sheltered suburbs, where people don't
shoot at you, the house is always clean and the fridge is always full. Bills get paid and
God forbid the cable goes out.
I ask a lot of an 18-year-old...I ask him to be grateful for what he has and for how much my parents
sacrifice to give it to him. But I fear that is asking too much. Not in today's society anyway.
My parents, in wanting to give him a better life than even the one I had growing up, went too far.
It became too good. Too much too fast and now everything is expected.

So...it doesn't surprise me that now all they do is fight. If it isn't my mother getting upset, it's him.
And one way or another they try to drag me into it and make me take sides. I did it for a while, but
I am tired and won't do it anymore. I am not Santa Claus, I am not a babysitter. Both of them will
have to learn to grow up and suck it up.
My mother and I never got along all that well...we are too different and though I love her, our relationship
is often strained. It has got much better since I moved, since we aren't around each other much we actually
appreciate seeing each other when I come home. But she has an incredibly difficult character. And she and my
brother are a lot alike...and thus they fight like cats and dogs.
Dad. Poor Dad works so much he isn't home enough to fight with anyone, and I harbor the sneaking feeling
that he could care less about all this. He is simply too tired and all he wants is 2 hours on the
sofa in peace and quiet. I get on with my dad because we have similar personalities and
respect each other's spaces. But we are worlds apart when it comes to important issues like religion, politics,
or "sensitive" issues like homosexuality or euthanasia.
In this moment I find it difficult to have any sort of meaningful conversation with any member of my family.
I couldn't feel more estranged.