Wednesday, May 13, 2009

sorry for the no-update season. here's an old diary entry to tide over my three very loyal readers, one of whom is my mother

We took the cat to the vet that Ana Vera told me about it’s a drab yellow tile fluorescent sterile death glow operation attached through a parking lot and gate maze to the school of veterinary science medicine and I had gone there earlier in the day to scope it out it’s open 24 hours so El Sexto, Ramiro, and I took Ludwig cat to see what’s what about feeding him and parasites and whatnot even though I thought the visit might be superfluous because he looked and felt so much better than when we got him uncovered from the ants outside the Foundation building on 13 and he cried so Ben nudged him with his foot and Heather and I adopted him from the boys so they could go to Santa Clara. Anyway we’d been feeding it from this syringe that Jo Anne bought minus the needle from the Melia Cohiba infirmary store milk we secret from the dining room in glasses they nag us to return. Inventory control is tight everywhere in Cuba where they actually count the candies you buy by the hundred like for Phil’s birthday pinata and not just give you some handfuls and charge you a dollar like at Fuscos. People like to wait around to be specific here. So the vet sat at his desk and said what do you need we went in before the dachsund – those shits are everywhere – and after the bear Husky character who looked fuzzy and uncomfortable. The clinic was across the street kinda from Quinto de las Molinas, where Yami had originally said to drop it off because people there take care of cats but I was thinking no because it might get eaten and that would have been worse than dying all tucked in my tank top with the ribbon like it did last night when it grabbed with its tiny claws and then stayed there, eyes closed mouth open even though the vet said he’s fine but you’re not planning on leaving him here are you and of course I said no because El Sexto had said he’s watch him for the weekend while we were in Trinidad and Cienfuegos where we might run into that couple that met on 2nd street and lives in Brooklyn even though they’re an architect form EAST BERLIN and an old-school snapshot photographer from London they met at the Hole where Roni took me once in high school before we both made different friends and it was her birthday yesterday and Sarah Nathan’s I remember these people with love and also missing but okay I chill with El Sexto now whose tag El Sexto* is his reconceptualization of heroism, an idea he feels has been co-opeted by the Cuban government to manipulate and mold the Cuban people into worshipping heroes that may not be theirs, an process which disregards individualism and everyday heroism, like that which allows the Cubans to resolver. Somos rebeldes todos, he says, because how can you not be rebellious when you live inside such a repressive system. He goes around with Bulldog budgeting spray paint and says he would tag more creatively than the simple script he does but this material is so expensive and sometimes difficult to get that he’d rather have his concept in many many places than in one colorful mural. Anyway Heather hit it off with Ramiro last night who makes his own shoes and does a good Jim Carrey impersonation and we taught them some choice English phrases like chicks before dicks and the translations of some Beatles and James Brown songs even though Ramiro’s English is pretty serviceable but he has the same problem as my dad because he’s trying to learn a language from books and discs and has a whole vocabulary that seems like it could be put to use only in the most specific of circumstances – where is my horse?, for one – and he seemed skittish around the cat even though he was clearly harmless in El Sexto’s chest pocket on the left-hand side (my right, his left) and Ramiro even paid for the vet 3 pesos which is 15 cents to me and like a dollar or two for him it’s always hard to compare money like that my sister said my table was confusing so I’ll fix it some other time when the internet is free and I can upload my pictures too. I lost a memory card’s contents including my Book Fair J-sauce statue photos and all the ones I had before this trip like from London my birthday New Years Halloween and all of Matt’s parties I’m sad about that because I should have backed them up before I came but my computer’s fucked and everything so the moral of the story is now we have to figure out what to do with the cat’s body which is easier than figuring out what to do with the cat so for now it’s all wrapped up where it used to snuggle in Alissa’s Beach Bash bat mitzvah June 12th 1994 towel Gd that was a long time ago and I remember it being fun for me and Ricki even though she became Erica soon after. So we’re off to Ludwig now for a slide show or something stimulating like that and I’ll have to break the news to Heather first then we’ll let it seep out becaue I told Jo Anne over guava milkshake this morning it was icy and she cried a little but not because the juice was icy but because the cat died


  1. i'm sorry, arielle! i know how you feel. you did what you could though, and i know where your heart is. loving you, gaby

  2. I can't wait for you to get home and we can talk all about your experiences - good and less than good. You are amazing and I'm not just saying that because you are my daughter!!