Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

How does one start the next narrative? I do not know, yet here I am.   I'm back in Greece after a blissful month in the South of France.  There, I had elongated days filled with walks, stone fruits bleeding with juice, and the clicks of heels along smoothed cobblestones.  Of course, I stopped in Paris for a few sunsets, and then I spent nearly a month in Aix.  Knowing me as an urban dweller mainly thriving from smog and city noise, friends were keen to watch me as the days rolled by.  I have a hunch a few had bets I would lose my cookies and run back to the winding streets of Paris with panhandlers and pickpockets, tourist queues, and the endless noise and complacent stress of city life.  Instead, as the days lingered, I found a rhythm and solace within the small town.  Vendors at the market started to recognize me; the cafe I went to for iced coffee treated me as a local after my third visit--realizing I was there a long haul--as I blundered my F...

 Sitting an ocean away, on another summer of work via escapism (or is that vice versa), I've finally slowed down to process the past year.  The threats to unalive me from students, my resignation from there, my words being taken out of context (perhaps purposefully) in my day-to-day life and not even personally, to a three-word text, and being back together two weeks later, to being ghosted in the cold squalls of mid-February.  My head still spins at it all, especially with how busy I've been this year.  Though, as these things go, dreams and missed ones cross the mind's eye.  I'm still numb and waking up from the emotional coma.  It's not the emotional coma of 2020-1, but it hits different without a coherent definition or design.     While in France, I found a sense of peace one day.  I was so at ease and comfortable while kayaking that when someone asked where I was from, I answered something else.  Girls on the kayak away respon...

While in Greece, I have clambered down a gorge, floated in Poseidon's waters, probably tempted the wrath of Zeus (this is me after all), wandered aimlessly, made a friend or two (I think), and nearly forgotten what the word trouble means.  Then again, I did say nearly . . . yet, along the way, the biggest thing that has awakened me is the shelling out of a disproportionate amount of my budget on new clothes.  As in, I went to a few big box stores and bought summer attire.  I shelled out some dough at local, Greek shops too.  I mean, I have certainly given more than my fair share to the Greek economy this summer.  I'm here for a few more weeks, and I'm certain local coffee shops (like the one near my flat), some restaurants, and maybe another bar or two will see my cash.  Tis the nature of life.  Yet . . .  I won't say I'm a skinny mini.  Hell, I've never been that.  In high school, my junior year, there's a pic of my Dad and me at the JR...

The view from my terrace.  Do I ever have to say goodbye? It's funny how a language comes back in an instant.  At the end of June, I hopped on a Turkish Airlines flight for Greece, and in that course of life, I found my barely used Turkish coming back as I heard the stewardess talking to each other and passengers.  On that flight, from NYC to Instanbul, I was in the middle seat between two dudes taller than me.  They were both the most polite and kind passengers I've encountered in . . . well, forever.  One insisted on helping me schlep my tote bag to the overhead compartment (my bag of medications, yes . . . and that's embarrassing to have that many prescription drugs for two months).  The other made sure I was left a flight bag and water when I dozed off.  In essence, it was a good combination.  I read, slept, and watched some blah movies.  We all did.   As the flight carried on for nine hours, I responded to the stewardess in Tur...

Since it has been sometime since I posted lackadaisical nonsense . . . okay, not that long , but since the valley of life has thrown me to the weeds in a long, and an undeniable shitstorm of power and persuasion, I escape and release myself through fantasy and humor . . . and as we all know sewing.  Today, enjoy a sewing diversion of sorts. When I am 80 . . . indeed.  Just as I have a to-do list of things for today (like grade, write a letter, pay a bill, finish a lingering article, walk the dog, grade, grade some more, work on another lingering article, read a book for review . . . yawn stretch, are you tired yet?) I have a list of things to do when I am 80.  My bestie and I conference a few times a year, meeting around the globe in airports and hotels, to meet, relax, give talks, make articles, and plot the next one . . . and drink wine and eat chocolate of good quality and seek each city's epic sushi spot (in Amsterdam . . . we found a place, on a side street, that t...

Okay, so over the weekend "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2" was on HBO, so I watched it while writing the piece on American women and family. Somewhat of an irony, I know, but read on . . . In the midst of this ushy, gushy tale of four girlfriends who always work things out and stick together, while their world always stays connected, Bridget goes to Turkey (Cappadocia to be precise) for an archeology dig during the summer. Lena, who originally starts in NYC at an art program, ends up in Greece at her Grandmother's. Eventually, all of the girls end up there to help Lena reunite with her love (cue my groaning here). But, what is my beef (aside from ushy, gushy romantic type comedy or weird proportions?)? Um, the Turks and the Greeks have a very long non love affair. Most briefly, and recently, it concerns the Greek-Turk War, the question of Cyprus, and Turkey's denial in the European Union while the Greeks are treated differently. Yea, I'll shut up my ...