Today I worked with students from The New Mexico School for the Deaf. I love these students so much, and worked there deeply back in the 90's. One girl wrote, "The days of the week are like shoes. I don't like to wear shoes." Another wrote, "Does the sun make you happy or hyper?" That should be my question about life as The PL. I am trying to can happiness as I once canned tomatoes. I could pull it from the root cellar shelf, make sure the seal is good, and then open the canning jar for a whiff of happiness preserved from these two years. It is so sweet to be recognized for my work, you can't imagine. But it's a toss up on the happy/hyper inquiry. I feel a bit addicted to the action, work or seeing the mayor constantly, or performing poetry for kids. I may need a chakra cleanse soon if I'm not careful.
Tonight my friend Miriam Sagan got the Mayor's Award in the arts for literature. It's a really big deal
with a gala dinner in this art glazed city. She was so gracious and relaxed, yet managed to mention everything from her late husband and new husband, to Zen and Phil Whalen and the Beats, The Community College and her new Poetry Pole project, all of us at the table with her, the great poetry audience in Santa Fe and that the city was her muse. Whew, that woman packed it all in and came away with a fittingly large piece of Nambé ware engraved with her honor. Just like when my mom got Nambé for her golfers. That was part of the trip out here, since she was on the prize committee. We'd go on a huge Nambé spree for her country club.
My mom is on my mind these days. Yesterday was the yahrzeit (the anniversary date of a death) of both Miriam's husband Robert Winson, and my mother, Beti Weitzner Slesinger Schwartz. Fifteen years and nine years respectively. I lit the candle,made a little collection of photos), one shows my mom lounging on the couch in Boca Raton in a divine pastel Pucci dress. She looks absolutely relaxed and sure of herself.
Am I happy or hyper? It depends on my sleep pattern. I hope I sleep tonight, full moon or no, and to wake up again without the heady fast lane of City life, with my slow-mo La Puebla drone as in sitar. I love the poetry friends, and had a blast tonight, driving home with reggae telling me not to worry bout a thing. Maybe I am happy and not hyper, or maybe I am having a new experience. Happy and focused on my art, and I haven't even played the coffee card yet, that is begun to drink it. Who knows what would befall me if I went on the caffeine road. I would be turbo charged. Anyhow, congratulations to my dear friend,and to all of us who are friends with her.
Goodnight mom. Goodnight Robert. Goodnight PL. Goodnight Nambé.
Goodnight old lady whispering, "too much."
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