Monday, November 26, 2007

Literary happenings

Saturday night I attended my first "literary" party/poetry and other readings event. My prof Suzanne is leaving in a few weeks to spend the holidays and January in Portland with her family. So, the party was to "festijar" the end of the year and I think her way of saying goodbye for a long while. It was a mixed and eclectic bunch - mostly americans but a fare number of argentines and a few brits as well. After an hour or so of socializing and sampling Suzanne's homemade pad thai, we settled in the living room like a good audience to listen and applaud each others creative endeavors. The argentina who hosted the party at her 21st floor apartment with an incredible view went first. She read something but I can't remember anything about it. I was mustering up the will to read next. With a glass of liquid Malbec courage in me, I raised my hand when they asked for volunteers. In the invitation, Suzanne asked us to bring something that expressed where we were creatively. I brought my whole notebook and decided in that moment to read a freewrite from that morning. Nothing special but somehow it fit.

He kissed me. Not the air. Not a cheek press with a lip smack to the wind - the Argentine greeting. No, not that. Definitely not that. I felt two soft puckered lips hit my right cheek. It was warm and intimate like we'd been friends for years. A greeting reserved for only the closest circle of people in his life. How did I get invited in to that place? He touched my shoulder fondly and asked how I was - if everything was ok for me. I said yes and looked him in the eye, unafraid of the exchange, a bit strange as it was. He asked if I was studying, glancing down at my Artists Way oversized book spread open on the table. I said "no, leyendo". I'm reading I said calmly with a smile. He walked out the back door where I saw him open a car door (assume it was his own) pull out a newspaper and bring it back in to one of his customers in the cafe. He'd lent his own morning paper. Yes, this is a place I will come back to. This is a place where I can write, stop for a pause, stare up at the mumbling crowd and out the window across noisy Libertador Avenue to the most lush and tree filled park in the city. One or two blocks from our apartment. Today I feel immensely lucky. luck begets luck. The kiss came from somewhere I'm sure. god moment perhaps. He looked at me like he really knew me. Yes, I've been here before, always outside with Utta but he's never acknowledged me. Before I was a nameless faceless order of cafe con leche or agua con gas. An occasional medialuna on a frivolous day. My visits don't warrant that kiss and yet. Maybe I called for it. I've embraced this city, the people, the culture, the language. Why be surprised that they return the sentiment in their own way. I'm finding my roots and making myself familiar. He told me I have the most beautiful blue eyes. Was he just hitting on me? No, too pedestrian. The kiss was something else entirely. It said welcome - you're loved, you belong here. I understand your order. I support your activity be it writing, reading or drinking green tea. There's no rush today it reassured. We're happy to have you and come again anytime. We're one you and I it said. I know you and you know me even if you don't realize it. Today I was kissed. Before I was hiding but today I was kissed.

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