Saturday, August 6, 2016




In the San Juan Bay Marina with our pussy-face Jesus. Low-maintenance, no matter how filthy, cramped, and crappy the boat is, the cat reveals secrets of enlightenment. Really. This last week, driving around San Juan, in circles--my GPS insists on speaking Spanish--tangling with the friendly faces of a strange bureaucracy, I finally felt like I’m not wasting time. We are last-minute here, the world was moving on in its lurching way with or without us, but somehow things shuffle themselves into place, a few moments before we reach for them. Usually. Classes start on Monday and I probably won’t get paid for two months--there’s some reason for it. There are lots of little mysteries here, including what the maintenance guy at the marina just said to me. But I know I’ll unravel them, for these mundane secrets thrill me.






In the San Juan Bay Marina with our pussy-face Jesus. Low-maintenance, no matter how filthy, cramped, and crappy the boat is, the cat reveals secrets of enlightenment. Really. This last week, driving around San Juan, in circles--my GPS insists on speaking Spanish--tangling with the friendly faces of a strange bureaucracy, I finally felt like I’m not wasting time. We are last-minute here, the world was moving on in its lurching way with or without us, but somehow things shuffle themselves into place, a few moments before we reach for them. Usually. Classes start on Monday and I probably won’t get paid for two months--there’s some reason for it. There are lots of little mysteries here, starting with what the maintenance guy at the marina just said to me. But I know I’ll unravel them, for these mundane secrets thrill me.



Starting a new life in Puerto Rico


Saturday, March 19, 2016


I’ve been meaning to write something about public space as domestic space over the past 8, even 10 years--about the way the limits of what we imagine as intimate have stretched, ballooned, really, as we’ve traveled the world, people with a small, shared shell. I don’t know why I’ve been meaning to write this, exactly, or what I want to say. I guess it's one of those things that’s nagged at me, that’s seemed to make my life different from that of lots of other people’s lives. As I sought "normality," sometimes without meaning or wanting to. Without realizing what it even meant. Part of what I'm talking about bathrooms. Semi-public showers, etc. And other intimacies like playing, or fighting. The paper-thin walls of my office come to mind, listening to my colleague talk trash, affirm her faith, sing along with the radio. 

Me rowing

Photo credit, my friend since 1988 and recent visitor Kathleen!

Tallulah at Coral World

Photo credit, my awesome former student Shayna.

Monday, January 4, 2016