avad: (Default)
weird things happening attached to getting back in touch with Margie C from childhood.
responding to Facebook message...reminiscing about drawing exercises and my grandmother Mita's house...saying how I dream there often and wish i could return for a day to everything as it was...with everyone alive...and how I have been compiling memories on a special page on Cloudpad...and about to link...going through the notes again...about the floors of the house..and the playroom with door to the garden...and how mita used to try to teach me not to be afraid of spiders...and would tell me they were good luck and if we saw one (usually a jumping spider is what I remember), she would secretly drop a dime or similar so I would find it.and say ' See??? GOod luck!!"...and so right then on my laptop there appears a jumping spider...crawling up the side. um. in 'real life' mind you. wha?

so I get the glass and postcard to relocate it outside...all the while thinking of mita...and I put it out front and it just sits there looking up at me.(!) and I'm like, Mita? And it looks at me and brushes its face/mouth...??
I'm freaked a little..go inside to tell Brent who is napping. The day has turned grey and dreamlike.

I go back to finish writing and send the message to Margie asking if she has any photos/other memories with a link to the cloudpad, and I decide to work on the cloudpad memorypalace of Mita's house some more...remembering other things....like the tv show song i can hear in my head...something like Viva Alegre!LalalalaLalalalaLalalalaLa.....and so I try googling it and come up with it on youtube and myspace...it's called Villa Alegre.and I can listen to it and look at pics. I don't remember any visuals but the song is so clear. And I put a link to the photo I have of Mita and papa in the kitchen...and I think of the other photos that I will have to scan.
mita & papa in the kitchen

and then the strange squeaking mysterybird/animal thing we've been hearing every once in a while starts up...sounding again like it is just outside the window. Brent comes over trying to see if we can see it outside...but we can't and it doesn't sound so loud out the front door as we expected...so where then is it coming from?? the attic?? so we go to check the attic...cannot really see anything...but as we leave it I ask for the box of my journals...because I had wanted to find my pink notebook where I list my 10%s...and he gives me a box.
Back in the kitchen I start looking through this box and it is the 'wrong box', instead of the journals and notebook I find a little wooden box inside with old jewelry in it. my magic blue necklace and other bead necklaces... one of them that I remember wearing so often but can't remember where I got it....well, now I realize that the strange seed that is on it is a rudashka seed (!?) I never knew what it was. hmmmm (see recent journal entry w/package from india)
then a box of photographs...I go to put the photo that is lying precariously on top away (of 5x5inch pieces on a wall) and split the photos like a deck of cards...and what opens is the picture of me at Ortiz's piragua stand...back at Mita's house(!)... I take the box and sit down to look through a bunch of other photos that are in that set of that place and old photos of mita, papa and mom too.
...........
!!!!!!!!!
Brent agrees something strange seems to be going on.
Mita? are you here? trying to tell me something?
I am remembering the time that I daydreamed so clearly that I felt I went to Mita's house...and that this was there waiting in a parallel reality. still . and that when I 'returned', THIS was the reality that seems strange and unbelievable...because I was still a little girl in my mind...
I love you Mita.
xoxo
avad: (Default)
grandmothers perfume 11/26/2002
what is the scent of Nostalgia? Of memory tinged with longing and wonder?
these days I think it is my grandmother's perfume. A scent I can no longer imagine....though I can picture the bottle perfectly,(which I liked to hold as a child) can nearly feel the coolness of the glass, rub the facets of the shape. I can see the color of the perfume, feel the weight distribution change as the liquid sloshed back and forth in its container in my warm little girl hand. In my mind I can feel the slight resistance of the cap to turning, then its click of unsticking and agreeable undoing.In my mind I see the perfectly designed threaded unscrewing of metal and glass.. and then it is open, the scent particles floating out like unseen fairies to tickle my nose and beckon me closer...for one good real sniff.

But I cannot smell it. A few neurons in my brain whisper conspiratorally with eachother, offering the vaguest shadow memory teases of sweet and musk....but others boo them down from doubtful corners of my mind.."Nah, that's not IT, not it really..there's more to it."

And there I am lost in a daydream trying to smell my grandmother's perfume. Up on mental tiptoe, straining for that which is on the top, top shelf today...and coming up short.

Since I live in this strange age of the future I consult the internet, my own court wizard. Internet, I say, find me my grandmother's perfume. press search.

A stream of link-paths emerge and I browse their brief descriptions. I click and shoot down the rabbithole. Suddenly I am within some modern discount perfume shop staring at an item with the name of my grandmother's perfume. But it is a 'modernized' plastic topped spray cologne bottle so hideous to my eyes that I'm sure I would not be able to smell memory there. How could those mystical fairies live in such a bottle? I don't think so. I check a few more paths...and all lead to such 'updated' bottles.

Internet, I cry, this is not IT!!! Bring me my grandmother's perfume!

My wizard knows what to do. In silence he takes my hand and brings me to a room. The name on the door is one I am familiar with, a room I have avoided because it seemed such a time and energy drainer, preying on the consumerist addictions of the masses. I shudder. But I understand.

This is the Lost and Found. A very magical place. A very dangerous place. Enter at your own risk. Here you will find your grandmother's perfume.

I walk into ebay.

I type in my grandmother's perfume. press search.

In an instant I am staring at the exact bottle from my memory. It is a strange moment. A magical moment. A dangerous moment.

With this new power in my hands I browse my memory for other objects that have vaporized in time. And I search for them. And I find them. I want them back. I want it all back! I can recreate my grandmother's bathroom in its entirety! I can recreate my childhood bedroom! I can line my shelves with all my childhood toys! I can summon all objects lost back to me!! I can recreate the past, build tributes, altars, museum like buildings! I can touch and feel and smell what before I could only try to remember!! My grandmother's coin purse. The stuffed mechanical toy poodle in the photo my dad took so long ago!

And then I stop.

There is something not right about this. I feel suspended, hovering, weightless. The hands on all clocks have become cartoonlike. Clock? I want to see my grandmother's cuckoo clock, not the modern cheap plastic 'functional' one I picked up at Wal-Mart.

But wait. WAIT. there are whispers.

What is this longing? What is wrong? Why does this feel so WRONG?

I try to tune into the whispers like a radio.

February 2017

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