i've not gone to the annual holiday festivity at my family home in the mountains this year. i stand to write this blog explaining why. i went to the first celebration a couple days ago. it was at night, late for me, it served finger foods that in the dark went mixed to fork to mouth, it was not great. the music was lovely and the guests had good cheer, a song, a dance, a memory shared, across times of same annual holiday festivity in bygone times.
it was too much of a trudge today, the five kilometers between my home and my family home, up and down two mountains, over two creeks, past all our neighbors family homes in the north to south artery of the town called villa or ciudad colón.
villa for those who have been here since before the prospero fernandez, since before the private freeway west to the pacific and it's tolls and it's malls and it's casinos and it's hotels and it's huge billboards selling expensive shit. villa for a third of the population from before the condominiums and the university for peace and the cultural center and the amphitheater and the chirote and che pizza. villa for those over 40.
at our last intimate family annual holiday festivity, mother's day in august, we went as a group of three siblings, three grandchildren, a new sidepiece and her two children to one of the new malls in lindora for brunch. ciudad for the brothers with colones. villa for the sister with none.
i pissed of the baby of the brothers by sharing a plate with celebrated mother and the older by explaining to niece why haiti is poor. my covid abiding facemask never left the top of my head.
i don't go to today's festivity not because i'm in facebook jail, not because the 90 day restriction on my account keeps getting added 90 days, but it's been a while since i wrote.
today's annual festivity is the third day of ayyamiha, the four days out of time on the bahaí calendar, a teaching forbidden to share in the palestinian land of is-not-real where the great prophet of heaven descent abrahamic of the urals, the pashtun, the europe that is neither east nor west, the asia of the everest, the africa that lies dormant under saharan winds, deep in the mines of the pigments, over generations of elephant, lion,and gazelle, the glory of god brings day to day, today, in the time outside.
tomorrow is the older's birthday, he shares it with our stepmother. she lives in the middle of nowhere de ninguna parte, with our dad who's turning 80 this year. i'm manifesting a fantastic automobile and driver to hop from oldest capital hotel to oldest capital hotel from here to there. august 11.
our mother realized it would not be a good idea that i go with said older brother as driver as stepmother still calls me names. i've manifest an alabama native, male, to cannonball said route with me. we're not antivaxxed, we're just healthy. i also manifest another alabama native last year, who has a car, but it's painted bright red, and feels a bit flashy for this seedy undertaking.
when i say seedy, i mean guerrilla planting en route between old capital hotels spanning two continents; i mean seeding the waters of dry river banks, i mean seeding the ancient knowledge that all plants have a purpose for us to honor, i mean sowing the threads of long negotiation that money, bank notes, actually, literally does grow on trees. the meaning and effortlessness of metro transit systems. old hotel money is already made from cane.
with the strength of someone who just killed a feeding mosquito on their arm, i don't think it such a great undertaking that i shouldn't write about, plans always change among gemini. i don't have a checker board, i have a dead tree in the middle of my kitchen that's growing a baby lemon at the roots.
for ayyamiha this year i'd like 6k$ for a bag of seed, a business upgrade and some solidarity.
