pasadena, california 11/11/06 4:50PM
felt compelled to write something just because of the date. 11/11
my Godson’s soccer number is 11. he played this morning and i got to watch him. beautiful john, running after the ball. his left arm tight, bent at the elbow, holding his left hand like a dog’s paw. the right arm relaxed and swinging free. running after the ball.
saw my beautiful father today. he looks healthy and happy. and oh so lonely. he shaved his moustache this morning. or rather it was shaved for him by accident. the first time he has been clean shaven in about 65 years. he looks like a new born.
“when the man became a child”
i’ve grow accustomed to my shaved face. wanting the beard to hide behind. so vulnerable without the hair.
“take off all your skin and dance around in your bones.”
“today is for courage, babe. tomorrow for forgiveness.”
saw cusi and peter and julian and their friends last night at a place
called cliffsedge in silver lake. drank a couple of cognacs in honor of ola and wings of desire.
now i go and search for clothes and appropriate books in arthea’s
garage. arthea introduced me to this great cafe that i now sit and write. some soul in pasadena. thank God.
wim, i hope you come to boston. they are screening your film on november 27 at some cool old theatre. i’d hug you if you came.