...tambores...

I deleted the entire message I posted here earlier because I was wrong. I can't analyse or think about it anymore, but it is not what I thought it was. It's better.

...rampant idolatry...

Tonight I went into work thinking I was only going to meet someone interesting and potentially fascinating, and at the very least Very Important. Cherie Blair, at her speaking event and book signing at our store, was sincere and warm and fun and intelligent, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I will not lie though - the best part of my evening happened completely incidentally.

After the speaking segment, I walked around the audience filling names onto post-its so she could personalize books to individuals. As I asked one gentleman for his name, I heard his voice above me answer "Phil Booth". My head snapped up and I found myself looking at a tall gentleman with Einstein-lite gray hair. He looked exactly as I thought he would. I said, "by any chance, you don't write the horoscopes for the Toronto Star do you?", to which he answered "yes I do". I laughed, jittered, and told him that I read him every day.

He wanted to know if he could ask Cherie Blair what time she was born - I told him of course, but suggested he let her know what his profession was first. Security was high, and there were some crazies around. He did, later, and she told him. Best moment ever.

Sometimes I wonder if celebrities hear these kinds of "I read you everyday" stories and think they are exagerrations. Phil Booth, if you should come upon this, this is no exaggeration. Every. Day. You all should know: how many times have I reported to you what is contained in my stars?

For Javod, because I promised him cryptic news: on Monday I am meeting someone else Very Important, at her hotel and then later at another speaking/signing event. I can't tell you yet who it is because it would give away the fun, but think evening interviews, great hair, a tell-all book, two very public feuds and 13 world leaders.

...i also live in this landscape...

I want to get a tattoo but I don´t want to do it here - if I do, it will be just an example of "I went to Spain and got a drunken tattoo that one time". If (when) I get one, I want it to mean something, something that I love or believe, that I am going to wear for a lifetime.

I want to get "I also live in this landscape" down my back.

Spain is so much more a wonderful experience than I even thought it would be. I am doing everything I wouldn´t have done in Toronto, coming out of myself even as I am coming into my own. A city of strangers across the ocean, different language and different lifestyle. Means: even if they told me I was ridiculous, I couldn´t understand them.

So, a city of strangers in a different language. And yet, I still managed to meet the one fluent English-speaking Spaniard in this tourist-free port city. He grew up in Chicago so I suppose that almost makes him in American, but I think I can forgive that in the face of every other great thing.

Can I stay? Please, can I? I don´t want to go home tomorrow.

...more Toronto Star inanity...

One of my favorite hobbies has become poking fun at the Toronto Star for its ridiculous comments and writing. Today's example, from the caption underneath a picture of Shania Twain and her husband, from whom she is separating: One of a few rare photos of Mutt Lange and Shania Twain in public together. The couple has split after 14 years of marriage and will now, presumably, be seen together less.

One can only presume that, yes, they will not now be photographed as often together.

...Liszt love...

I love to watch David Alaverdian play the Campanella, because when he finishes he pumps his fist in a restrained but undeniable manner, to show that yes, he beat it. It is so difficult, and the process of learning it likely so tear-filled and frustrating, that the first thing to come out once those four long moments are over is sheer triumph.

Incidentally, that is also the moment which convinced me to stop trying to play it. Sometimes you have to resign yourself to the idea that something is completely beyond your ability and capability.

...transcendent execution...

I celebrated my first week of freedom from school by buying multiple pairs of shoes, one of which I wore today with a halter dress that did not suit the weather. White peep-toe sandals with a cork wedge but not too high, adorable so much but no word of a lie I think I broke my toe. They are not particularly comfortable as it happens.

Other things I am doing this week:
- playing Liszt's Campanella in G-Sharp Minor
- reading "The Man Without Qualities, vol. 1" and "Mrs. Dalloway".
- Going to Spain!

...what the professionals use...

Today was so many many hours of anxiety and restlessness, for no other reason than... well the reason isn't important, except to say that it would have sent Dorothy Parker into an apoplectic fit.

I won't betray myself to be even more the weak-kneed female and say that it was the 42 minutes that I spent in someone else's company that saved the entire day for me.

I played audience member at an insuffienctly-attended event, and spent the entire time alternating between thoughts of restlessly crawling out of my skin, and asking myself in all seriousness "what would Dorothy do?" - I don't know what exactly her reaction would be, what her attitude would be, in this situation, but I am fairly certain I missed the mark.

Unless she was more like the secret-Miss-Marion and not the surface-Miss-Marion.

Not having her advice at my disposal, I turn, as always, to Phil: Inner conflict is the greatest enemy of hopes, dreams and desires. Keep your intentions focused and keep your sights on the positive.