I'm sitting in a 28th floor bar in Seattle. This city is becoming more and more like the big sister I never had who keeps saying "I told you so." Atahualpa is trying to sing through my headphones, competing with the lounge music. so much changes and so much stays the same.
The other day I returned to the prison. I worked with the girls there for a day. one of them cried. I wish I could write about it here.
I got to hang out with ciara. it was so much like old times. The Ethiopian restaurant in Capital hill where I told her about existentialism was louder than I remember. she still has her stretchy red jacket.
the memoir is being written. Painstakingly slowly but steadily.
Tonight I'm going to rock this Joe Taylor conference. "Mana mamayukmi, palomitay, manam taytayuqmi. Chaysi waqachkanim, palomitay, kay runapa llaqtampi." I'm so glad I brought scotch in my flask.
Life keeps on going. I keep finding and losing La Syrena encantada. Someday I'll find her for good and kiss her tiny mouth every night. Right now I'm making notes and drinking wine as the sun sets through a giant window to my left. the windstorm is gone, the tsunami has passed. when I get back to Vancouver I promise I will return all my phone calls. Right now the lovely Colleen Lines is changing her clothes to come up and have a drink.
Ñawpaq ulata suyaspalla!