Tomorrow is my mom’s 50th. My twin & I go home to celebrate, and when we arrive, we are met by our little sister and a dead bird on its back on the kitchen counter. It’s a little sparrow still in perfect condition, perched as if it had instantaneously frozen and fallen off a tree branch.
My little sister said she found it in the cats' bed outside and didn’t know what to do with it. “Don’t you think it will upset Madre?” I ask. My sisters agree it will, but then we get distracted.
Our mom enters with a bag full of gifts from a day of teaching two-year-olds. She gasps when she sees the sparrow. We tell her it probably just had a heart attack, even though Em found it in the cats' bed.
Madre strokes the lifeless feathers, and Courtney jokes that Emily wants to dress it up and play with it. Em says, “No! I wanted to put it in a jar... with...”
Me: Formaldehyde?
Court: Resin?
My mom interjects, “Take it outside and bury it! Stop prolonging its...”
Me: Its what? (it’s already dead)
Court: Journey down the River Styx?
Madre: Bury it, Emily! You can’t dress it up and play with it.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
IMAGINARY SNOW DAY
Today I call my mom. She says, “Brrr, it’s cold,” and I tell her how I’ve changed outfits 3 times already to keep up with the impending and unbearable coldness. At that she says that it’s supposed to freeze tonight and flood tomorrow, followed by the frantic statement, “I’m going to HEB right now to buy toilet paper!”
At first I secretly laugh at her overdone sense of planning, but then I realize that we’re almost out of toilet paper in my house as well. “Wouldn’t want to be stranded at home all day without any,” she says. “Oh my god, she’s right,” I think.
My friend and I make an emergency trip to the grocery store, and soon I find myself buying the “essentials” a la Y2K. “In case I get snowed in tomorrow...” This thought precedes my purchase of chips and salsa, squash, ginger root (for tea), brownie mix, and enough chicken and sour cream to make a small feast of chicken paprikash.
I come home and tell my roommate, “Don’t worry about tomorrow-- I have whiskey. When we get snowed in, we can drink Irish coffees and eat brownies.” I know that I’m not leaving the house tomorrow, no matter what the weather. It’s set in my mind that the whole world will be covered in a sheet of ice-- plus, I already have all the supplies.
At first I secretly laugh at her overdone sense of planning, but then I realize that we’re almost out of toilet paper in my house as well. “Wouldn’t want to be stranded at home all day without any,” she says. “Oh my god, she’s right,” I think.
My friend and I make an emergency trip to the grocery store, and soon I find myself buying the “essentials” a la Y2K. “In case I get snowed in tomorrow...” This thought precedes my purchase of chips and salsa, squash, ginger root (for tea), brownie mix, and enough chicken and sour cream to make a small feast of chicken paprikash.
I come home and tell my roommate, “Don’t worry about tomorrow-- I have whiskey. When we get snowed in, we can drink Irish coffees and eat brownies.” I know that I’m not leaving the house tomorrow, no matter what the weather. It’s set in my mind that the whole world will be covered in a sheet of ice-- plus, I already have all the supplies.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
AUSTIN VS. GUAJIRA
So yesterday my dad and I are talking. I’m laughing about how my degree from UT and job experience in several fields can’t even get me hired at a coffee shop in Austin right now.
He says it’s a bad time in the job market, and it was the same way when he graduated. He emigrated from Colombia when he got accepted into UT and earned a degree in engineering, even though he barely spoke English at first.
He tells me that his only job offer upon graduation was from Exxon. That doesn’t sound so bad, but then he explains that they wanted to put him in a region of Colombia called Guajira. He had been there before and knew that it was the kind of place to get yourself killed.
He said that the people who live there walk around almost naked, wearing a sort of smock. They barely have any possessions and live in a hut if they’re lucky, but they all carry machine guns.
They block off whole regions, hired by guerillas to protect secret cocaine factories and airstrips for illegal shipments. My dad said that once, the Colombian government discovered an airfield in Gaujira that could land 747s. The only other airport in Colombia with that capacity was the El Dorado International in Bogota.
I feel a little better about things because at least I’m not dying... or I feel worse... because I’m rotting away in coffee shops rather than dodging bullets in the Colombian desert.
He says it’s a bad time in the job market, and it was the same way when he graduated. He emigrated from Colombia when he got accepted into UT and earned a degree in engineering, even though he barely spoke English at first.
He tells me that his only job offer upon graduation was from Exxon. That doesn’t sound so bad, but then he explains that they wanted to put him in a region of Colombia called Guajira. He had been there before and knew that it was the kind of place to get yourself killed.
He said that the people who live there walk around almost naked, wearing a sort of smock. They barely have any possessions and live in a hut if they’re lucky, but they all carry machine guns.
They block off whole regions, hired by guerillas to protect secret cocaine factories and airstrips for illegal shipments. My dad said that once, the Colombian government discovered an airfield in Gaujira that could land 747s. The only other airport in Colombia with that capacity was the El Dorado International in Bogota.
I feel a little better about things because at least I’m not dying... or I feel worse... because I’m rotting away in coffee shops rather than dodging bullets in the Colombian desert.
Monday, January 19, 2009
THE FRENCH TOAST CHANNEL
It was hard enough to get dinner after 9pm in Prague, so we spent most our nights watching TV in our hotel room. There was one channel that blew our minds; I still think about it and wonder. It was a cartoon that must’ve aired 24 hours because it was always on. The background was plain, and a brown square that we came to call “the French toast” wandered around mumbling and sometimes singing.
There were no other characters-- just an occasional low, rumbling voice that would talk to the French toast. Sometimes the voice would chant the same word over and over. The French toast seemed terrified whenever this voice spoke.
Maybe the French toast was having a bad trip. He walked around in a trance and sometimes got scared and huddled in the corner of the screen, shaking. Now and then a prop would enter the screen, like a conveyor belt full of evenly spaced teacups. The toast would wonder what these things were and then he might go back to pacing or stare through the screen in silence.
Some friends who were backpacking through Europe visited us in Budapest, and we asked them if they’d seen the French toast channel yet. They scoffed at the idea of a channel dedicated to a piece of toast that barely spoke and never really did anything.
We would say, “Where are you going? Prague? Watch for the French toast channel!” Our last stop before we flew back to the US was Frankfurt, and after watching Predator badly dubbed over with German, we flipped the channel and found ourselves face to face with the French toast. We called our friends and said, “We’ve found the toast channel! It’s here, in Frankfurt!” They laugh and say, “Yeah right, French toast channel... We’ll have to see it to believe it.”
There were no other characters-- just an occasional low, rumbling voice that would talk to the French toast. Sometimes the voice would chant the same word over and over. The French toast seemed terrified whenever this voice spoke.
Maybe the French toast was having a bad trip. He walked around in a trance and sometimes got scared and huddled in the corner of the screen, shaking. Now and then a prop would enter the screen, like a conveyor belt full of evenly spaced teacups. The toast would wonder what these things were and then he might go back to pacing or stare through the screen in silence.
Some friends who were backpacking through Europe visited us in Budapest, and we asked them if they’d seen the French toast channel yet. They scoffed at the idea of a channel dedicated to a piece of toast that barely spoke and never really did anything.
We would say, “Where are you going? Prague? Watch for the French toast channel!” Our last stop before we flew back to the US was Frankfurt, and after watching Predator badly dubbed over with German, we flipped the channel and found ourselves face to face with the French toast. We called our friends and said, “We’ve found the toast channel! It’s here, in Frankfurt!” They laugh and say, “Yeah right, French toast channel... We’ll have to see it to believe it.”
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A MEAL IN PRAGUE
When my family went to Hungary to visit my father’s homeland, we stopped for a few days in nearby cities. One of the most memorable places was Prague. My first meal was an entire duck and my little sister had an entire fish-- eyes and all. Tourists passing by did double takes at our plates, and at the end of the meal, the pile of bones I had cleaned made me feel like the queen of carnage.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
STRANGE SIGHTINGS: EXOTIC BIRDS
Next begin the sightings of exotic birds.
Months ago, I was home for a visit standing in the kitchen with my parents when my mom yells, “there’s a stork in our yard!” We crane our necks looking out the window and see nothing. A minute later, something blue/gray in the backyard catches my eye. We bust out the back door and stand still, face to face with a blue heron. The bird is almost as tall as any of us, and after a few moments of eye contact, it flies away. I can almost feel the repercussion of its massive wings flapping away with its bamboo legs in tow.
Then the incidents start happening more frequently.
I try to sleep one morning and all I can hear is banging outside. I think it’s construction, but when I look out the window, I see nothing. About 30 minutes later I realize that the sound is very near. I unlock and unbolt the door in my bedroom connecting to a breezeway to find an exotic bird not two feet away, staring me down. It is about a foot tall with a black ring around its neck. Its wings are yellow, and its head is neon orange. It had been banging back and forth between the screen walls for over an hour. We look at each other in silence for a minute, and then it flies away through the screen door that has been open all along.
Soon after, my twin and I are walking home from class. As we pass a big frat house, I point out a large flock of brown birds in the trees. Just then two vibrant orange-ish red birds pop out. They're tiny things, solid colored with beady black eyes. They fly up on a tree branch and peer down at us as we pass.
A couple weeks later I’m walking in Zilker Park. I’m about to cross Lamar when I see three neon green parakeets playing among a flock of crows. My friend laughs and asks how it is that I always sight those kinds of things.
Then I go to San Antonio for Christmas. My mom is driving somewhere with me and I start to tell her about how among some crows I saw... She turns to me and says, “I saw some parrots too.”
Months ago, I was home for a visit standing in the kitchen with my parents when my mom yells, “there’s a stork in our yard!” We crane our necks looking out the window and see nothing. A minute later, something blue/gray in the backyard catches my eye. We bust out the back door and stand still, face to face with a blue heron. The bird is almost as tall as any of us, and after a few moments of eye contact, it flies away. I can almost feel the repercussion of its massive wings flapping away with its bamboo legs in tow.
Then the incidents start happening more frequently.
I try to sleep one morning and all I can hear is banging outside. I think it’s construction, but when I look out the window, I see nothing. About 30 minutes later I realize that the sound is very near. I unlock and unbolt the door in my bedroom connecting to a breezeway to find an exotic bird not two feet away, staring me down. It is about a foot tall with a black ring around its neck. Its wings are yellow, and its head is neon orange. It had been banging back and forth between the screen walls for over an hour. We look at each other in silence for a minute, and then it flies away through the screen door that has been open all along.
Soon after, my twin and I are walking home from class. As we pass a big frat house, I point out a large flock of brown birds in the trees. Just then two vibrant orange-ish red birds pop out. They're tiny things, solid colored with beady black eyes. They fly up on a tree branch and peer down at us as we pass.
A couple weeks later I’m walking in Zilker Park. I’m about to cross Lamar when I see three neon green parakeets playing among a flock of crows. My friend laughs and asks how it is that I always sight those kinds of things.
Then I go to San Antonio for Christmas. My mom is driving somewhere with me and I start to tell her about how among some crows I saw... She turns to me and says, “I saw some parrots too.”
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
CHRISTMAS: PART 2
We go to the movies and eat obscene amounts of popcorn-- the most constant tradition in my family.
My mom gives me a glittery thong.
Then we decide we also need to rent a movie. After much searching for the right one, my dad storms out of the video rental store because they asked him to pay late fees. (the usual).
My sis offers to do the dinner dishes, then hits her leg on the table and pretends to be injured to avoid the task.
Hanson Christmas is playing, and it’s sadly the only Christmas music I think I can bear. My little sister claims that she looks just like Zac Hanson, and simultaneously as my mom insists, “it’s not true,” I shriek, “it’s true!”
We sisters decide that we will dress up as Hanson next Halloween, and my mom informs us that she had the same idea in the heyday of Hanson and admits that my sister is a deadringer.
My mom gives me a glittery thong.
Then we decide we also need to rent a movie. After much searching for the right one, my dad storms out of the video rental store because they asked him to pay late fees. (the usual).
My sis offers to do the dinner dishes, then hits her leg on the table and pretends to be injured to avoid the task.
Hanson Christmas is playing, and it’s sadly the only Christmas music I think I can bear. My little sister claims that she looks just like Zac Hanson, and simultaneously as my mom insists, “it’s not true,” I shriek, “it’s true!”
We sisters decide that we will dress up as Hanson next Halloween, and my mom informs us that she had the same idea in the heyday of Hanson and admits that my sister is a deadringer.
CHRISTMAS: PART 1
My dad’s side of the family is the type that loves Olive Garden, and although we’ve had many dinners with them at the Italian version of Chilis, my parents make us try a different place this year.
Out of nowhere, my grandma says I look like Loreli, a siren who caused ships to wreck into rocks when they were about to cross the German border. My dad informs me that she wants to sing, and she serenades me with a song in German, presumably related to Loreli.
The younger family members come back to our house to play the New York Times caption game and drink wine. My cousin’s spouse insists that my grandma was drunk, and when we mention that she was drinking tea, he says, “Well, she felt my butt on the way out.”
Later my grandma forwards me the Lorelei song with a preface in Hungarian even though I don’t speak the language.
Out of nowhere, my grandma says I look like Loreli, a siren who caused ships to wreck into rocks when they were about to cross the German border. My dad informs me that she wants to sing, and she serenades me with a song in German, presumably related to Loreli.
The younger family members come back to our house to play the New York Times caption game and drink wine. My cousin’s spouse insists that my grandma was drunk, and when we mention that she was drinking tea, he says, “Well, she felt my butt on the way out.”
Later my grandma forwards me the Lorelei song with a preface in Hungarian even though I don’t speak the language.
Monday, January 12, 2009
STRANGE SIGHTINGS: PRAYING MANTISES
I'm at a bar after the Ratatat show in Austin, and I feel something fall into my hair. I grab at my braided pigtails to pull out what I presume to be a leaf, and stare at the strange object in my hand until my eyes come to focus on its thin, bony arms wrapping around my finger. I drop it on the ground in horror and realize that it’s a huge praying mantis.
Next, I come home to find a praying mantis staring at me on the side of my house. He is leaning back, very regal, wrist bend, claw dangling, judgmental in his gaze. I mention to the friend with me the strangeness of seeing two praying mantises, and he says it’s no big deal.
I’m at a party before Girl Talk, and as I grab an unopened pack of hotdogs, I see a little green speck-- a baby praying mantis-- crawling on the wrapper. He crawls on my arm for a while and spends more time with me than anyone else there.
My friend shows up to my house to help me work on a shotlist for my new film and bears a plastic praying mantis figurine that he said he found in the street in front of my house.
Finally, some friends and I stroll along the few blocks of concentrated Christmas lights in Hyde Park. In the front yard of the last house there is a massive metallic praying mantis, one story tall. His limbs are angular, and his eyes are glowing bulbs. I wait for the king of all mantises to tell me something, but he just gawks at me, so I just walk away, unsure of my role in the mantis community.
Next, I come home to find a praying mantis staring at me on the side of my house. He is leaning back, very regal, wrist bend, claw dangling, judgmental in his gaze. I mention to the friend with me the strangeness of seeing two praying mantises, and he says it’s no big deal.
I’m at a party before Girl Talk, and as I grab an unopened pack of hotdogs, I see a little green speck-- a baby praying mantis-- crawling on the wrapper. He crawls on my arm for a while and spends more time with me than anyone else there.
My friend shows up to my house to help me work on a shotlist for my new film and bears a plastic praying mantis figurine that he said he found in the street in front of my house.
Finally, some friends and I stroll along the few blocks of concentrated Christmas lights in Hyde Park. In the front yard of the last house there is a massive metallic praying mantis, one story tall. His limbs are angular, and his eyes are glowing bulbs. I wait for the king of all mantises to tell me something, but he just gawks at me, so I just walk away, unsure of my role in the mantis community.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
THE BEGINNING
We took the name for this blog from the biography of June and Jennifer Gibbons. Speech impediments and petty crimes aside, we have always created strange stories, starting as kids playing with dolls to the films and photos we compose today.
This blog is a sort of journal for these thoughts and a venue for the uncanny connection that is shared by twins.
This blog is a sort of journal for these thoughts and a venue for the uncanny connection that is shared by twins.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)