The Visible Woman...July 16, 2000

Sunday

July 16, 2000

"If you live long enough, you'll see every victory turned into a defeat."

Simone de Beauvoir, All Men are Mortal

one of the few living things in the University of Texas area on Sunday morning...Texas French Bread employee picks herbs

decoration

Wearing: For dog walking: Jeans, polo shirt, hiking boots. Wilson cap with terry band inside.

Physically: Legs aching...too much coffee, too little water and such for the heat.

Emotionally: Resigned to what life brings.

city of the disappeared

I wake up at 6:36 via alarm. I get up soon after and dress and get my Capresso machine fired up and get the papers inside. Mom and Dad are up. Mom's blood pressure is elevated still. They decide to stay home from church.

I call SuRu and she comes over after 'submitting one more job.' She is over about 7:20. There does seem to be a little cool in the air.

We park just south of 38th Street near some Doctor's offices, not far from Central Market. We walk South, along Guadalupe for a bit and then back to Rio Grande. We notice that the Texas French Bread on the corner of 29th and Rio Grande has a garden in the back with picnic tables and a 'registered' oak tree.

We continue to 24th Street. My legs, the muscles around my knees are screaming. Must be dehydrated. I pop into a deserted convenience store. The clerk stops taking inventory and sells me a bottle of Gatorade. SuRu and I share it. Her legs are aching, too.

Everywhere there is litter, beer cans, broken glass. There are few signs of life. It's like a sci-fi movie where everyone has disappeared.

On the way back we stop at Texas French Bread and have a bagel and hot drink in the shade of the registered oak. When the employee comes out to pick herbs a light breeze blows their odors toward us.

We try to cut through a alley to get back to the car. But it circles back and we go in a circle. But I get the picture with the tattered flag and other odd decorations. Worth the detour. We figure we have gone about two and a half miles. Or so. We probably won't do the neighborhood again or not so far south. Too much broken glass to dodge. I fear for the Baby Chalow footpads.

I return home and decide to delay the shower until I can stop sweating. I do some online shopping (replace some Eagle Creek organizers that I loaned, then gave to Mother; buy her a lapboard like mine from Levenger.)

Dad goes to the grocery store. They didn't go to church because of Mom's blood pressure. She looks a little better, though, and wants ice cream from the store. Dad cooks vegetables for her. He says he knows how to cook but doesn't like to do it. I agree with that. After they both eat, I eat some salad and some of the vegetables (brocolli and carrots) that they haven't eaten.

I read the paper and doze a bit. The New York Times Magazine has a huge write-up on race. Lots of interesting first person accounts and these features on statistics about what black and white people buy. That stuff is presented by showing mostly identical kitchens and living rooms with the statistics underneath. I think there might have been discussions about what scenery to put outside the windows of these little settings, which are not the same. Several articles addressed the issue of mixed races. Or, should I say, recent mixing. Because most of the racial characteristics we perceive today are watered and mixed. The future of race in America, they asserted, is more and more mixed race children. Yes. And then people will find another battleground for hate. Religion or lack thereof. Culture. Political belief. There might be the online diarists vs. the reticent. (Every time I hear people talking about 'Big Brother 2000' or 'Survivor' I bring up online diaries. Much more 'real' with much less artificial set-up by the established media. I am generally brushed off. Even people who have moments before nodded when another person said that 'whoever controls the message has the power' are drawn to what is promoted by the media. They have a choice now, with Internet access, to listen to thousands of real people.)

Hmmm...how did I get off on that.

Anyway, we go to the six o'clock show of Dave Steakley's 'Tapestry...The Music of Carole King.' It is a musical revue with a band and five singers (some performances had six, I think). The show is woven through with a film of real Austin women, interviewed about their memories of the early 70's and the impact of this music. I'm more of a Janis Joplin fan myself, but, of course, the songs like 'Natural Woman' and 'The Earth Moves' were the background music for our life then. But I was more taken with Janis Joplin doing pieces like 'Turtle Blues' and 'Cry, Cry Baby.' One of the women in the video claims to have been impregnated by Neil Young (although she miscarried).

We head to Jeffrey's after the show with our young, vibrant friends Kisha and Celeste. We talk video and film and Celeste tells us about the Latino film conference she just attended in Miami.

We get home about 10:30. I am suddenly exhausted. Mom is still up and seems to be feeling better. She is trying to write letters. I fall into bed and immediately sleep.