August 15, 1997
My head feels so itchy and I’m so tired. This never ends. Everyday I think I can rest but it never stops. So much noise, so much talking, so much attention, I want it all to go away but it’s impossible. I need this work. It all got to continue.
So, yesterday, the thing with M., so wonderful! They had cleared out all the chairs and tables for the reading with cushions and balnkets scattered around on the floor, harem style. I was eager to stretch out and made myself a nice little bed and head rest. M. sat beside me dutifully. Immediately I felt more relaxed. People stood around talking forever before the poet came out. Jorge was his name. He had the most beautiful voice. It sang to me, lulling me into a delicious sleep but still awake, hanging on his every word, never wanting him to stop. M. kept staring at me, I felt so uncomfortable and I avoided his eyes. He took my hand and held it too tight, every once and awhile scratching and tickling my palm. I wanted him to let go but also knew this it what he needs, so I tried to relax and let him. I just wanted to listen and dream some more. I closed my eyes for a little bit and it felt like I was floating in a dark green ocean, the gentle sound of Jorge’s words touching and rubbing against my skin like lacy green seaweed. It made me think of L., mostly because he and Jorge are from the same place, their accents the same. I felt the closest to L. than I have for a long time. It made me want to go see his family, his kind and beautiful mother, his little nephews. I knew M. had made this all happen. I did look back in his eyes then. He, M., is so consistent, so reliable, he never gets upset, never complains about other people. Even in his body, he is so at ease, no achy feet or sore back. I really admire this about him. I think he was bored with the poetry. I could see out the corner of my eye, his head nodding off to sleep and then jerking himself awake.
Jorge really gave me some much needed peace and rest. I remember him saying at one point “la cara me embrujo, inky black fingers squeeze all life out of this sad heart, I want nothing more.” I tried to think of S. but he was no where close but it was really okay.
I am so tired. I don’t want to do anything today.
