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This year I get my sabbatical – it couldn’t have come at a better time with meeting Tatjana and our plans – I will travel to Budapest for a conference and learn first hand more about an area of media that I have been covering. I will then travel to Croatia – to Zagreb, to the sea coast, to Hvar, Dubrovnik, Split, and other towns and experience a country that I have never even thought about until I met her and yet I will be traveling through her landscape and filling in the background of her life. Then we will go to Istanbul together – the city of both of our dreams – a place that feels like home – and we will be street rats there and eat figs. And when I return from my travels – I will come back with a mental portrait of my love where the shadowy shapes are crisper and the hues deeper, and more than anything, I will have spent time being present and not distracted by a job that is more than a job and a life that is more than a life and I hope we will go forth and multiply and I ask only that for the moment of present-ness I am being handed – that the world stand still at just the right moment so I can take a good long look all around me and hold that image indelible in my mind till my dying day. 

Again and Again

by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love

and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,

and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others

fall: again and again the two of us walk out together

under the ancient trees, lie down again and again

among the flowers, face to face with the sky.

J – “Did you know that dog poop is fertilizer?” .. R – “I’m not sure about that – I think chicken poop is fertilizer but not sure about dog poop.” .. J – “Uh huh, it is. I know it is because R [editor’s note: his friend who is a know it all] told me.” .. R – “Well who died and made R an expert in fertilizer?” .. J – “It’s true, how they do it is they put fertilizer on the dog poop and then it is fertilizer.” .. R – “Ah, now I can see that working.” .. J – “But you know what is scary about fertilizer?” .. R – “No, what?” .. J – “It makes you dead.”  

YELLOW by Coldplay — Look at the stars, Look how they shine for you, And everything you do, Yeah, they were all yellow. I came along, I wrote a song for you, And all the things you do, And it was called yellow. So then I took my turn, Oh what a thing to have done, And it was all yellow. Your skin Oh yeah, your skin and bones, Turn into something beautiful, You know, you know I love you so, You know I love you so. I swam across, I jumped across for you, Oh what a thing to do. Cause you were all yellow, I drew a line, I drew a line for you, Oh what a thing to do, And it was all yellow. Your skin, Oh yeah your skin and bones, Turn into something beautiful, And you know for you, I’d bleed myself dry for you, I’d bleed myself dry. It’s true, look how they shine for you, Look how they shine for you, Look how they shine for, Look how they shine for you, Look how they shine for you, Look how they shine .Look at the stars, Look how they shine for you, And all the things that you do.

T minus ten still equals R minus T, but it is starting to feel like she is on the way home rather than on her way out. I’m getting the grocery list together for when she comes back – her yogurt and coffee, the chocolate covered cherries and her cookies. The list sits on the counter and makes her return seem more imminent. A great love requires adjustments – she’s used to her four or five months in Europe visiting her friends and family, and they are used to this stretch of time with her. My friends are used to me being readily available and I’m used to being alone and scheduling my business or leisure travel at whim. Now she is pulled (and I am pulling her) home to us, and somewhere, someone she loves, I love, is getting short shrift of her time, my time, and what used to be a routine is now being reconfigured for what is. Once the shock of the new wears out, we will all find our rhythm in time. 

The day was just too beautiful to believe. I Skyped with T and then was going to go down and finish the Almodovar movie we had started when she was here but it was just too beautiful outside to be inside so I went on the front porch with an ice cold Tecate beer with a half a lime squeezed in it and sat there waving and watching the action. Then I took Loca down to the P.O. to send off another pining letter to T to beg her to come home – not really – to tell her how much I missed her. It was such a gorgeous day – everyone was out – I passed a group of couples, the boys were playing badminton and the girls were lounging on blankets – one shouted, “You play like girls,” to the boy. I felt the impending Monday upon me and the desire to make the afternoon last and last. It didn’t but I enjoyed it anyway. Went to R&A’s for dinner and had a nice visit. 

We all met at Cafe Rani after the ride for lunch in the courtyard under the huge oak tree named Branche Du Bois. One of my friends whose partner is away on business and who has been away since January, was talking about how hard it is. She said she missed her girlfriend because she’s so fun, and now without her there is no fun. I said, I know, I miss my girlfriend because she brought beauty into my life – so easy on the eyes and the candles she lights, and the way she arranges our life and uncovers beauty in the common. My friend said she is trying to be very supportive and I said, supportive, yeah, that’s me. I’m supportive (read: a crybaby drama queen). 

The MS bike group decided to ride the levee, meeting at the Fly behind the zoo and headed out to Kenner. I decided to just ride from home to get some extra miles and so I was a little behind the group for most of the ride. I was marveling at the difference of riding along the muddy Mississippi and turning the corner where the Gemini parties used to be out in the houses/camps on the river on the other side of the levee where it bends. It was a beautiful day and I was pedaling off some of the agitation that had me up last night at 2AM writing to my sweetie, and tossing and turned, until out of the blue she phoned. Hearing her voice quelled the anxiety, and I drifted back into a nice sleep and dreamed about peaceful images. I turned around to catch up with the group who had mostly passed me and as I did so, I saw an accident happen – two women walking, a recumbent biker going too fast, a levee board truck driving and blocking the biker that ended up hitting the woman all colliding. The recumbent biker took off and the truck took off after him – meanwhile one of the women lay faced down in a pool of blood and I worked to get her lying on the slope and cleaning her up and telling her what had happened because she had lost consciousness. These bike trails are not for racing – they just aren’t. That woman will need stitches and god knows what else – and the asshole who just kept on going – I spit on you. Blech. When the paramedics finally arrived,  I lingered a little longer, washing her cuts, and feeding her water then told her I was going to go since she was in good hands – she said “you’re an angel” – and I rode fast to catch up with the girls – being a little more careful as I maneuvered around groups.