While I was walking over to pick up the car I realized how I became phobic over writing as an act: in Reeducation we had to write things out over and over again, making long confessions of flaws and past errors, reinterpreting ourselves to a certain paradigm. I did not want to do this because it was an extra assignment that would eat into some other writing time. I had not foreseen that this forced writing, and the repetition of the content we had to produce, would in itself be so destructive.
Of course I knew that and even started this weblog so I could reverse the process; I knew I had destroyed myself by and in writing. I see now that I also destroyed writing as an experience by and in writing.
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The mechanics say there is nothing wrong with the engine of the car or the heating/cooling/defrost system. I am surprised and somewhat cautious on this but still I went and spent some Reyes money, a Michael Kors shirt that zips up the side for $25, Dansko Nadine at 25% off, DKNY jeans at 50% off and I am considering even more of these, and a Lancôme foundation at full price and no bonus — straight, no chaser.
I like these items and I have been pining for them on this blog, and they are perennials. I am also wearing a jacket I bought with my first check as a T.A.! One of the cuffs is slightly frayed but otherwise it cannot be beat, I should take its picture; it came from the Joseph Magnin on Bancroft.
Then I went to the Mexican market where they were giving out slices of real Rosca de Reyes! Not these Louisiana King Cakes that are like 50s U.S. bakery items! The box is covered with camels, and I had caldo de res. Now I have called the nuns back and tried to call the house cleaner, and I am about to go to the CSA, so you can see I am doing things.
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I have not done any work yet, though, so I have to at least raise the issue. Last night I fell asleep thinking I would model the first sentence of the introduction to this book on a sentence in Sarmiento I have always liked: “El mal que aqueja a la República Argentina es la extensión: el desierto la rodea por todas partes….”
I would say in better words that the discussions of mestizaje, hybridity and transculturation that have been rubbed into Latin America like a healing salve or poured over it like liquid wood to let harden and then sand and paint over, in fact cover a series of fissures and faultlines that keep on rumbling.
It occurred to me while driving that I could also use this to open the chapter I am working on now.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 