aiguardent: a journey into human solitude...

Tuesday: I pushed the stroller around aimlessly for awhile. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contact list looking for someone other than Sarah to call. It had only been a few hours since she left and I thought I should be able to hold out longer than that. I called Davi and hung up when she didn’t answer. I put my phone back in my pocket, walked a block, pulled it out again, and called Sarah. It was one of those awkward conversations where you can’t really hear each other and it doesn’t really matter anyway because neither of you really have anything new to say ‘cause you just saw them and you’re mostly just missing them because you know it’s going to be a week before you see them again. We had hung up before I reached the end of the block. I pushed the stroller down Granville to the park by the lake. I unbuckled Keira and set her down to play. She had no interest in the play ground and instead insisted on climbing down the rocks to the beach. At first she was shy of the water—letting the waves hit her toes and then running back up to the dry sand. I would stand with the water lapping at my ankles, kicking sprinkles back at her. Eventually she waded out to me, and fell over, and loved it. Pretty soon she was squatting and hitting the water with her arms as hard as she could and shrieking every time she splashed herself and entertaining the cute old couple that had climbed down the rocks with their folding chairs and sun umbrella and were sitting pretending to read the newspaper.

Saturday: I woke up at 5am, hungry, because I had fallen asleep without eating dinner the night before. I pulled on a sweatshirt and poured a bowl of cereal and watched an episode of Queer as Folk. I liked the song that played during the credits, after Justin ties Brian’s bracelet back around his wrist and walks away, so I went online and bought it. And then bought some other songs and uploaded some songs and made a melancholy mix. I lay back down and sort of slept but mostly just kind of stared out the window and wallowed. I finished my book. Around 2pm I finally got out of bed and did the dishes and cooked some potatoes and eggs for potato salad and cleaned up the scraps of fabric coating the floors. I shoved all my dirty clothes and towels and sheets in my duffel bag and put on my work-out clothes and walked to the laundromat. After putting everything into wash I went for a 26-minute run. I ran out to the lake and then along the break wall, down to Hollywood beach, and around to the path and back. I tried to do intervals, picking a tree or pole to sprint to and then falling back into a jog, but mostly I felt weak, and worried about going to Milwaukee next week and not being ready. I changed my clothes to the dryer and ran to the gym. I felt weak there too. At one point though this guy caught my eye and told me I was really dedicated, which made me feel better. It's funny how compliments can make you feel good even when they come from random people that probably don't even really know what they are talking about. Like this dude doesn't know me or what I do or that dragging myself out of bed twice a week to do forty minutes of shoulder strengthening exercises isn't even close to dedication when you measure it up to all the gym workouts that Pam and Farrah have been doing in order to prepare for the world cup in a couple weeks. I jogged to the laundromat and picked up my clothes, went home and showered and got dressed. Then Rosie and Sandy picked me up and took me out to dinner at this Thai place in Lincoln Park. Then we went and got coffee at Bourgeois Pig and I heard their whole how they met (thirteen years ago!) story. Then we went to this play that I had gotten them tickets for at the Goodman. It was called Aiguardent and it was part of the Latino theatre festival. It was really weird. It was a one woman show and there was hardly any talking, just some mumbling in Spanish that you couldn't really hear. It started with her lighting a cigarette and for awhile the only light you could see was the flame of her match and then the lights slowly came up and she was sitting in a dining room chair (slumped a little bit like teenagers sit, or how you sit when you are tired or feel defeated) and there were wheels on the bottom of the chair. She started slowly moving and spinning, but she was only moving her feet and by her expression and posture it almost seemed as if the room was moving instead of her. Then she spins up to this dining room table that also has wheels and she starts moving with the table. It all felt very reminiscent of how I felt this morning as I stared out the window and willed myself out of bed, kind of depressed, but almost relishing in it. There was a wine jug on the table and she kept wanting to grab it, but then stopping herself. It seemed like it had to be about more than just controlling an addiction to wine though. It was like she kept trying to keep her thoughts off of the wine, but also enjoyed the game of resistance she was playing with herself. Eventually she begins to drink the wine and then she is pouring bottles and bottles of it down her throat and on the table and on the floor. Six big jugs of wine she pours out all over herself and onto the stage. After it's gone she looks out and hits the table with her arms, like Keira in the lake, and the water splashes everywhere, and you can see each little droplet in the stage lighting. Then she does it again and again and again. Then she is on the floor "swimming" through the wine and under the table and flicking the liquid out into the audience each time she kicks her feet.

Sunday: I’m sitting in the box office of the Goodman and a woman calls asking about the play going on tonight.

“Aiguardent?” I ask.

“Yeah that one. Can you tell me what it’s about?”

This is actually the first time someone has asked me this and I fumble. “Well, it’s a one-woman show, and uh… there’s a lot of dance…”

“Have you seen it?” she asks.

“Yeah. But it’s kind of hard to say what it’s actually about.”

“And you liked it?”

“Yeah. I did."