New  »   Sunshine Jen  ·  Post-Modern Drunkard  ·  Poop Beetle  ·  Robot Journal  ·  Gator Country
Search...
Pony:
Ok, today is the first day of my new position, and I am way up on the 7th floor. the flourescents are out, i have a pentium 3, a printer, a scanner, and they bring snacks to each other!

I am in cubicle heaven. Once again, a matter of degrees.

We had this family friend who was, in retrospect, rather charming and handsome for an old guy. He was Chilean, and had this gorgeous accent and a wife who liked horses. My sister used to flirt shamelessly with him (the clueless way only a woman who had gone to all girls' school can), thinking he would never take her overgrown lolita act seriously, as he was married and she was the daughter of his friend. That assumption was shattered, however, when one day he "propositioned" her in his hotel room in Manhattan. My mother was angry. She had always been under the impression that he had a thing for her, not her daughter.

I studed Spanish in highschool. He used to tell me, "Adina, each language has its purpose. English for business. French for diplomacy. Italian for opera. but Spanish....Spanish is the language of love."

He gave me my first collection of Garcia Lorca poetry, because I loved the ballad of the sleepwalker (Romance sonámbulo). It is about, I think, a dying soldier anxious to return to the ghost of his lover. In honour of the holiday of chocolates and commercial love, here is the first verse, translated:
Green, how much I want you green.
Green wind, green branches
the ship on the ocean
the horse in the mountain.
With a shadow on her waist,
she waits on her balcony
green flesh, hair of green
and eyes of cool silver
green, how much I want you green
beneath the guypsy moon
all things look at her
but she cannot see them.

«« past   |   future »»

2.14.2002
«« past   |   future »»


Previous Posts
What's a Nice Jewish Girl Doing With a Tree Like This?
How To Celebrate Mother's Day When You've Lost Your Mom
Cassette Players Were A Pain, But There Was Nothing More Romantic Than A Mixtape
The Joys of Raising Your Kid Downtown
The Virtues of the Yoga Date
I Loved Your Wedding But Please Stop Telling Us to Get Married

comments[0]
all comments

post #178
bio: adina
perma-link
2/14/2002
14:02

wish list
archives
first post
that week
XML/RSS




Share This



Category List
bun in the oven
February Smackdown
gastro-intentional
India
me likey
monkey cake
narcisimo
news
open letters
politico

My Links
twitter
Prashant's blog
Gabriel on Flickr
my flickr account
boingboing
»More...