Thanks.
I really love my neighborhood.
At 11:20 PM 7/19/2006, you wrote:
>Mark,
>All three were wonderful to read, thanks for the post.
>
>-Peter Ciccariello
>
>On 7/19/06, Mark Weiss <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>
>>Glad you liked it. The quotes are in fact what
>>the woman said (more or less--it's probably
>>impolite to write down what people say while they're talking to you).
>>
>>Or "To die dreaming." It winds up tasting
>>somethuing like an orange julius, for those of you old enough.
>>
>>At 08:36 PM 7/19/2006, you wrote:
>> >moments captured, ahh!
>> >the spirit of these is why I love WCW & Issa.
>> >
>> >1.
>> >excellent use of "bellows".
>> >
>> >2.
>> >hah what wonderful quotes.
>> >people are so goddamn intelligent, sometimes.
>> >
>> >3.
>> >you used quotation marks for the speaker's thoughts,
>> >I liked it better when there were none.
>> >also I don't think the dialogue is strong enough
>> >to warrant that whole part/snap, but that's me.
>> >
>> >
>> >is morir soņando "dreaming death"?
>> >these have great spirit.
>> >
>> >KS
>> >
>> >On 7/19/06, Mark Weiss <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>> >>I
>> >>
>> >>I hold the door for a an old woman in a wheel
>> >>chair and her Haitian helper, one very white, one
>> >>very black. In a faint voice and a thick Jewish
>> >>accent the old woman tells me "Beautiful man.
>> >>Beautiful man. Are you coming with us?" Just to
>> >>the door, I say, and she bellows with rage and
>> >>sorrow, a sustained, operatic, gorgeous note with
>> >>perfect vibrato, audible all the way to the back
>> >>of whatever balcony. The Haitian woman, very
>> >>beautiful, very patient, is not surprised.
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>II
>> >>
>> >>It's 97 degrees and humid. I stop to buy an
>> >>orange juice from a man with a shopping cart and
>> >>a squeezer. He's making a drink for a woman:
>> >>juice, sugar, condensed milk, a mystery
>> >>ingredient, over ice. "You know what this is?"
>> >>she asks me. "It's called morir soņando." Oh, I
>> >>say, I've had that. They make it in Mexico."The
>> >>Mexicans do it different. You wanna taste?" And
>> >>to the man, "Dale un poquito a probar." And to
>> >>me: "What you did in Mexico?" and I explain that
>> >>I'm a writer, I know a lot of poets there.
>> >>"Poetry," she says, "I don't read much poetry. I
>> >>just finished Cien aņos de soledad, what a book.
>> >>But I don't read much poetry. Romantic people,
>> >>it's dangerous, too much emotion."
>> >>
>> >>
>> >>III
>> >>
>> >>In the post office, the length of a morir soņando
>> >>away, a woman dressed in long shirt and pants
>> >>complains about the heat. "You're wearing too
>> >>much clothes," I offer. "It's how I dress. I got
>> >>my reasons. Things I don't show. Winter, summer,
>> >>I dress the same. Even in bed. It's how I like to dress."
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