jacuzzi requiem

“Due to cold weather, hurricanes, and short supplies, natural gas costs in California are increasing as much as 40% this winter.” This is what our PG&E (Pacific Gas and Electric Company) bill says. It’s true – at least we can personally testify that the part about cold weather and the increasing prices is very very true. The bill doesn’t really mention anything about energy and geo-politics, unlike the president in his last state of the union (“America is addicted to oil”, which we can also testify as very true if car-use is anything to go by.)

Anyway, our ecological reflexes (shaped in europe, they turn out to be very different from ecological reflexes here, where many people make a point of going to the organic supermarket, but then use the car to do so) made us decide to turn off the jacuzzi in the garden, cause surely to keep the water temperature so high must cost a fortune in terms of energy. First maría waited for me to arrive so i could try it out, then we said let’s wait till the end of january so we can clearly see the difference between the january and the february bill (and then you never know, it might turn out to be reasonable…), then came february with a little outburst of spring and all of a sudden we used the jacuzzi a lot more, and now it’s march and i’m leaving the house, and the jacuzzi is still there. Ah, goodbye jacuzzi, very fond memories of you remain. And of the beautiful relaxed (who would have guessed, but yes…) afternoon maría and me spend there, until we were fish, before my moving out.

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ps – these are pictures from earlier warmer days, what maría is doing there would be very dangerous now…

where i was from

didion3.JPG Before i left, my father gave me Joan Didion’s book on her homeland California. I began reading it on the plane to San Francisco now more than a month ago, continued some of it on the Greyhound bus to San Francisco two weeks ago, and finished it last week here in Santa Cruz. I’ve been reading it in an attempt to understand more of the soul of this place, and there seems to be a very similar impulse in Didion’s writing. Her starting point is the story of her ancestors moving west – a family history which parallels that of the United States. Going west, the belief in starting all over again.

“Two hundred years of clearings in Virginia and Kentucky and Tennessee and then the break, the void into which they gave their rosewood chests, their silver brushes, the cutting clear which was to have redeemed them all.” This was the crossing story as origin myth, the official history as I had learned it.

Didion revisits these pioneer myths and their American mystique – her writing moves slowly making their dark sides palpable, dissecting underlying notions of “clean cuts”, freedom, individualism and greed. More from book her later on, for now this thought about the break, the cut, and its promise of a new world:

From what exactely was “the break” or “the void” or “the cutting clean” to have redeemed them? From their Scotch-Irish genes? From the idealization that had alchemized the luckless of Wales and Scotland and Ireland into classless western yeomen? From the confusions that led both Jack London and The Valley of the New Moon‘s Saxon Brown to claim the special rights they believed due to them as “old American stock”? Or were they to have been redeemed from the break itself, the “cutting clean”, “the void”?

california sun maid

IMGP2642.JPG The other day, during one of our supermarket adventures (i guess i’ll have to write more about supermarkets one of these days), i came across this very familiar face. One of these childhood memories of images, forms and colors that you haven’t seen or remembered for the longest time (almost sure i never saw these boxes of raisins again after we moved back to belgium from the states almost… 28 years ago…). And all of a sudden there she was.

A la recherche du temps perdu…

santa cruz (dis)connection…

california calling:
nature is really something else here,
the impressive ocean, the cliffs, the redwood trees,
tripping over animals all over the place.
but… american suburbia (where our house is)
is not the kind of place for me.
i need to start writing more about it
to make some kind sense of the disconnection,
so i wanted to ask nicolas: please please please
could you set up a blog space for me…
what its name should be, has become very clear:
somebody else’s paradise.
more stories will follow soon.