I haven’t driven in ten years, and now, in my new job, I am supposed to. Let me explain what I have to do: I work now in a cemetery, so I have to learn the map of the land, the markings of where people’s loved ones rest while the rest of us work, eat, sleep, make weird lunches, kiss our people, walk down the street and walk back, pick some bad wine that makes no sense for dinner. Like the time after work (there is an “after work” for me now, a concept I had forgotten about; after work was four am, when we left two bar stools out to finish off any remaining bottles of wine and then go to bed to sleep for a few hours) I went out for Italian gluten-free dinner and got a Savvy B with spaghetti and meatballs. How stupid have I been, in this short existence of mine, to wander with only my body and thoughts, then come home and sit in front of pens and papers to think about them. In my new life, I have to drive through the cemetery, leading processions of cars filled with grieving friends and family, and then we all stand in the dewy patches of grass as someone says a few words: “she liked mangos and her cats / she was quite the motherfucker / she gave up painting her nails years ago, and there was always some chicness in that.” I stand far away enough to give everyone their space, which I am very much used to.
I went down to the dell to look for salamanders and instead found inchworms, floating on their threads of silk and landing on my silk skirt, my bony knees, my sweaty hair. I did not know inchworms made threads of silk to hitch their neon green bodies for a ride. I didn’t know anything about anyone’s body that hasn’t been mine, one way or another. I have never stopped to think about toad breeding season, cancer drugs, public art installations, global women’s health initiatives, having children, Ladies’ clubs, not as much as the dead that line the surroundings around me, as I drive in loops around them, leading their families and hoping not to get lost.
All the friends who love me here now say: You are too hard on yourself. This is a new world. You are like a small baby in a new world, and one day you’ll learn how to walk and talk again, where the path named after the bluebirds is, and how to properly park the van. One day you won’t feel so tired after looking after chipmunks and people, people on the phone who will tell you how tired they are, how confused, and why wouldn’t they be? It must be like finally coming up for air, when we’ve all been safely underwater, away from the universal promise that we eventually will have to not only come up for air, but also watch as our bodies float on without us. You are like them, coming up for air in a new world, with better possibilities and a better wardrobe, and most importantly, some sense of peace and stability you’ve been navigating without, so let yourself feel it. Let this body be tired after a long day, a new kind of tired, then let it fill itself out with a new sense of purpose. New living is much like giving yourself back to the Earth.
I can’t believe how quickly this year is slipping away, like, here we are about to begin June! This means that soon, fotocopy will be a year and a half old, which feels insane. This project has been so helpful for me when I feel like I’m in a creative funk, much like these past two weeks. It’s become such an important part of my art practice and oftentimes, the only thing in my practice. I will never stop being thankful for the space I created and all of you who continue to join me here. Like always, thank you for reading.
Like this piece mentions, I started my new job! I’m an events coordinator at a cemetery, which woof, the reactions I sometimes get from people (never my friends, who are so amazing and supportive) are interesting. It’s an adjustment for sure, and I am learning a lot about my role every day, which has left me some days anxious and depleted. I hope that when I am fully settled, I’ll have space in my head to create again. I miss painting. Today, after having a cry about this, I decided to do Julia Cameron's The Artist’s Way again. This will be my second attempt — the first time was in 2019 — and I want to be more accountable to myself this time around.
Outside of work, I am reading The Years by Annie Ernaux very slowly. It’s my second Ernaux book this year, and it’s sometimes kind of a hard read to get into, but when it captures my attention, it does so exceedingly well. I admire Ernaux’s ability to use a generational memoir to center her life experiences in her beautiful and weird writing, the latter being possibly a result of my reading her translated works. Reading about her days as a school teacher, a wife, and a mother, as the world changes, made me feel less alone in my anxiety. She won the Nobel for a reason!
On one of my days off last week, I walked to Flour bakery for one of their brown butter cinnamon rolls, and I listened to Smerz’s new album, Big city life. I am fucking obsessed with these girls. My faves off the album are Roll the dice, Feisty, and A thousand lies. Then I came home to where I was cat-sitting and sat around trying to draw and write. I was semi-successful, it was a nice afternoon and right now, that feels like a big win in my heart :)
Con amor,
Gabo <3