My Life in Argentina and Beyond - my_writing

Black Outfit

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 19:51:08 +0100

I still am reminded of my Tia. The Hasidic women I see at the Williamsburgh branch of the Brooklyn public library with their black wool coats, their opaque stockings and black moccasin shoes make my Tia be with me even though she’s been dead for over 22 years. They dress just like she used to dress. She has never left me and she never will. I see her wrinkled little face now as it was long ago in another life.

Cats in Their Cages

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 22:02:51 +0200

I can still see the cats in their cages. Some of them are upstairs, in the room reserved for the sick ones, the cats that can only be adopted into an only cat situation. A few are standing eagerly waiting for someone to change their litter boxes, clean the cages and then give them fresh food and water. But it doesn’t end there, with their basic physical needs covered. When I would pet them and caress their bodies, they responded, wanting more. They would bend their little heads and look at me. At this point I don’t care about the jerk, also known as P.J. something or other—the guy who fired me, a volunteer, because I petted them or wouldn’t clean the feral cages. He knew (if he was not/is not blind) that my right side is disabled and that I don’t have health insurance. That was just an excuse to get rid of me—I realize that. What I care is about the kitten in Midwood I couldn’t go and save because dear P.J. said I was harassing him asking questions. I guess he expected his volunteers to just clean the cages and shut up. And I care about the cats and kittens I am not going to see again. I will miss them. The best part of being there for a few hours once or twice a week was the cats. The human beings, the fellow volunteers who didn’t come to my aid when P.J. started acting the way he did—them I don’t care about, either. If they did nothing, they’re just like him. But the cats are affectionate are another story. They are grateful and I will keep seeing them in my mind for a long time to come.

Tribute to a Place

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 22:53:53 +0200

Saturday, July 18, 2009: I stood there and looked t the white walls. They were the same white walls I had known before, a long time ago. The apt. seemed smaller, a space that in my imagination had been twice as big. The shower. I looked at the shower with longing. The new person had changed the shower curtain. The new one was white with some black flowers. I had to leave it. I knew I couldn't stay. It hurt so much that when I got down to the street, I cried.

Running on Fifth Avenue

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 18:55:12 +0200

Saturday, June 20, 2009: Yesterday afternoon I ran around 5th Avenue, looking for a man who wasn't there. I went to his place of business to discover that he had left. Then I emailed him from the NY Public Library. Then, I discovered where he really was supposed to be, and surprise! He wasn't there either. I felt like a fool and like I had been stood up over and over again.Yesterday afternoon was one of the more stressful times of the year and a half that I've spent back here in New York. Don't need that again.

The Homeless Renter

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Sat, 09 May 2009 20:36:51 +0200

Saturday, May 8, 2009: I feel that the homeless in shelters should be helped to get out of being homeless and not be charged rent if they are working and making minimum wage. it is wrong to take the very little money that they have available. Why not have them save as much of their salaries as they can so they can rent an apt. and be self sufficient again? Or train them to get really well paying jobs?

Nadia's Birthday

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 19:23:01 +0200

Today would have been Nadia’s 85th birthday. It seems incredible that 10 years ago today she came to my apt. in Vicente Lopez and we had a little get together to celebrate. She told me I was the only person who remembered her birthday. Nadia was not my relative; we were not related in any way, but to this day I feel a bond that goes beyond my normal feelings for an alone and totally unprotected elderly woman. It’s as if we were/had been related in another more important way. I have tried to explain it to myself many times, but I can’t. She was more than my friend and neighbor, a lot more than that and I don’t think that it had much to do with the fact that Nadia and I spent the last 4 months and one week of her life almost living together

December 7th

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 20:07:51 +0100

December 7th, 2008: He was a successful immigrant in 2 countries, he went through things that would make your hair stand on end. He was my father and today would have been his birthday.

Writers Self Help

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 19:58:56 +0200

Wednesday, October 8, 2008: How can self help be selfish when we as writers have to do everything we can to promote ourselves? We have no one else to do it for us. And if we want to get readers, we have to get out our drum and beat it. Eugenia

Heavy Nightmare

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 22:20:09 +0200

Tuesday, June 17, 2008: I will leave on the 20th, but I don't know how. That part totally escapes me. All I know is that I must leave. I have to take my little cat, my belongings and take off. Scary. I can't wait for it to happen.

Nadia Remembered

noreply@blogspirit.com (Eugenia) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 18:50:26 +0200

Tuesday, June 10, 2008: It was a Thursday. Very early in the morning. You tried everything to survive, just like had done it your entire life, but the fire was too great. You thought of everything to draw attention to yourself and your dogs. I know they barked for help, and I know you must have yelled.