Showing posts from November, 2009

'ween 09

It was long past four am. We were resting for a minute on some stranger’s couch. Everyone around us was still dancing, a mass of bouncing, happy feathers and ribbons and funny hats. D turned to look at me, her eyes wide with joy. “I’m just so happy to be here.” She was covered in body glitter and handmade cardboard spirals. A glowing, beautiful figure of a girl. We were both nearly thirty. But this was New York. There was dancing to be had, and parties to crash. And there was a moment, surrounded by the thunder of it all, that we both gave a little sigh of thanks.

the way it goes

Back in the spring of ’08, young Bat-Sheva was denied both love and an impressive directing job, both positions having been passed on to some other young upstart. This weekend, the front page of the New York Times’ Arts section showcased the work of the director who got the latter gig, and found his work to be totally lame. The article spent a portion of its page real-estate faulting the man who hired the director for his bad decision-making. A much-hardened Bat-Sheva of autumn ’09, is not quite sure how to take this news. She is considering putting the article on her fridge. Or just forgetting about it and going back to work.


      I don’t know where I learned it, maybe in an episode of This American Life , but somewhere I heard that if a bird flies into your home, it symbolizes a soul.      “So what does it mean if you bring the bird into your house yourself?” Katerina asked. I wasn't really sure. This bird was flightless with a crooked right wing, a little yellow and black thing, so small you could crush it between your fingers. It was waiting to die outside our building, so Katerina just scooped the creature up and brought him inside. We made a nest out of an old box and some newspaper, filled a bowl with water and birdseed and watched to see what would happen.      It’s interesting how such a tiny little animal can fill a house so completely. For a whole week this summer, Katerina fussed over him like a mother hen. She followed a careful distance behind while he hopped around the corners of the apartment. She went to the store and brought him back live crickets, then worried that he wouldn