times

thursday i wake up sideways on the bed, i had fallen asleep after talking to my sister, legs crawling up the wall, aimlessly. santiago is smoggy today and the clouds are patchy through the slits in my curtains over santa lucia. the night before i had been drinking cristal with basco, some of his friends, painters, artists of sorts. we sat in his apartment and smoked cigarettes for hours and when he walked me home past the strip clubs its still warm outside and we look at each other and giggle like children, bumping into each other along the street. i wake up groggy, dreams of ben and the beach and the wild ramblings of last nights mixed conversation...one sentence by benjamin franklin sticks out : art is long but life is short. for some reason this makes me feel good as i get dressed, ill show you art...i am living this life.
i try to pack little for the beach, five swimsuits and suntan oil, my notebooks and a book on chilenismos and my camera. i charge my camera and think about walking the hills of valpo. i might have to throw these chanel flats out soon...theyve seen their last day...like two months ago. i buy my ticket for the bus at the wrong station, miss my bus, have jumbled spanish with a cute young bus driver who has no idea what im talking about and finally allows me to get on the bus, i dont see what the big problem is, chileans are never on time.
the drive is incredible....at one point i fall asleep and we crest over a hill and come into a valley that looks just like napa...i think im hallucinating but im not, its real...its just not home. but its uncanny...fields and fields of olive trees and vinyards and then dry dusty slums and then palm trees and green green hills break way to brightly colored houses stacked on top of each other like blocks. i dont love valpo...not just yet.
driving into town and some guys arm hangs out the window, covered in tattoos, looking closer it spells
benjamin
in the most beautiful script. i almost weep.