girl thursday

 i don't have the go-to guy or gal.

andrea, asilia and gabi perhaps. i have one of each. it's october 2020 and on tuesday i have an appointment with the national tribunal of justice of costa rica to further the cause of my nationalization, a term lingering from treaties past bespoken in castillian spanish about who is a what where and from.

thursday october 22nd 2020

i kept my appointment, i took my best boo as witness to our 20s, 30s and 40 spent as friends, collegues, associates, anything but partners in this central american sovereign nation state between nicaragua and panama. 

concrete and covid have had a brilliant year. my best boo's gonna write an academic dissertation on why the new cube shaped extravaganza that houses legislators, built at the lowest point in the capital city is worth every colón in poured concrete.

i don't mind.

boo signed.

i'd spent a week since logging the entry "i don't have the go-to guy or gal" pining at how i feel about "nationalization". i just want the security of abundance, the reality of planet earth, not the scarcity that institution is built on, 

i'm a taurus, my worst fucking nightmare is dying in poverty. 

i still have not received my covid assistance check while the faces at my business, on my family, the religion that brought us to these lands, still act like i do not deserve money of any kind. they have their reasons. 

8:22 a.m.

becoming a tica national will not make me richer, better, smarter or kinder, it may make me happier.

on the first start andrea told a whopper, we've only known each other 5 years. gabi told the truth, ten years, but the case rests on more than 20 years of acquaintance. i've known neither that long. boo is the real deal. we met at the discoteque named dejavu.

and he genuinely likes the new cube building, the interior is lit from a central courtyard and it does not need airconditioning to keep cool.  

in the first visit with gabi and andrea i got a mister clerk on the other side of the window. masks and glasses. on the second visit i got the mizz, the clerk that hides all the chess pieces in her mouth. so, i thought quick and when i handed her my passport i asked her to please read aloud where my passport indicates that i was born. to say the word "honduras" outloud.

i then proceeded to object to conditions and terms placed by the UNDP on document validation in central america as they override each country's ability to collaborate directly as sovereign nations. all the clerks came out from the back offices. i loudly declared, i cannot attempt a certification of my birth certificate under laws enacted before 2011 if on the website i am obliged to detail a domiciliary address in honduras. i haven't lived there since i was four years old. i'd be lying, therefore that "certification" would in itself be a lie. 

i saw some very excited faces on the other side of the glass. the oldest guy came out and after breathing and listening and looking over the wealth of proof of birth that i possess, told me the case would be rejected but that would allow me to appeal directly to the magistrates.

it's the audience of my lifetime. on that day, jaleh ruhe as alexandra owens, what a feeling.