At the end of my block Sandra Cisneros is having a big blowout–yet another party I wasn’t invited to. There are people in this city who, no matter how many times I meet them, never seen able to remember me.
He: “Sandra, let me introduce you to Erik…well, you probably already know him.”
Me: “Oh, of course. We’ve meet several times. Nice to see you again, Sandra.”
She: “No. I don’t believe we’ve meet.”
Me: “Oh sure. Three times, I believe.”
Me: “I see you all the time when I’m outside as you’re walking your dogs.”
Me: “Really. I live across the street and three doors down from you.”
She: “Oh? How nice. How nice. It’s good to meet you.”
What a perfect day. I cleaned my bike chain, topped off the air in my tires, and headed off for a late afternoon bike ride. The pecan tress are all budding. Wild flowers are everywhere. And those wonderful daytime crickets are laying down a perfect music bed. The vultures have returned from their winter roosts in Mexico. I saw three circling overhead as I was lounging on the grass above the river near Mission Espada. I moved my arms around a bit. Not dead yet. And they moved off, downriver. And another sure sign of spring is the return of the bats, who also winter in Mexico. I’ve seen them flitting about at night where the San Antonio River comes through my neighborhood.
Considering the winter we just went through, I wish I also had a second home in Mexico. (Of course, I wish I had a home in Mexico for an endless number of reasons.)
There’s been talk of me repurposing my Luminaria video, “River Hoop,” which features ST Shimi. There is an event coming up, in April I believe, planned for Main Plaza, downtown San Antonio. If Shimi’s amenable to my reedit, and if her schedule can allow us to collaborate again, with a new, and somewhat augmented version of our Luminaria proposal, than I’m certainly down to create a large video projected backdrop for Shimi to hoop-dance to!
I’ll be sending out the word once I know for sure.
Tomorrow afternoon the Luminaria steering committee is having a happy hour party in my neighborhood (King William). I’ll be there with my camera, hoping to get some candid shots of Susanne Cooper, Steven Payne, and Carmen Tafolla dancing, pantless, up on a table out on the patio.
Thanks to Rod Rubbo, of the Fund, for setting up this informal gathering for all us committee members to get together and celebrate, a.) surviving a horrible ordeal, and b.) pulling off a huge and wonderful event with an attendance of 210,000!
I hit a red light on the way to the beer store tonight.
And I had to take a photo, utilizing my rearview mirror, of the PikNik on S. Presa, as well as, behind me, the coin-op laundry.
The ride back was smooth. Green light.
I honked when I passed Sandra Cisneros’ party. I assume that all the attendees were of such an elevated status that the crude blat from my pickup truck did not even register in their tender sophisticated inner ears. Mostly, I guess I just pissed off Connie, who lives with her dad and works at an automotive shop–they live catty-corner to Sandra.
I should point out that my catty bitchery would turn a full 360 degrees were I, in fact, invited to these sorts of parties.
And here I am, back home, partyless (and, dare I say, pantless). The PSA should make note to “not let this man drink beer alone.” Are you listening, Sandra? Sandra? Hello?