So this morning, pre-caffeine, post-spilling tea all over myself (as I got out of the car, which was parked on an angle, I placed my open mug of tea on the roof of the car where it promptly slipped off, onto me and then under the truck right behind me), I trudged to the post office. Tea on my white pants and everything. There are only two post offices in Austin that are open on Saturday and I had to mail off a grant, so I was going to do it despite being a walking disaster.

After taping my grant envelope shut - mind you, the address was INSIDE the envelope, thereby requiring that I untape it to retrieve the address - I went to my place in line. Standing behind me was a young woman to whom I turned and promptly asked if she'd like to write on me.

"Sure!"

Her enthusiasm made me enthusiastic, too. I suddenly felt myself waking up.

"A word, huh? Any word? Hmm. Let me think about this."

"Sure."

"Do people usually think awhile before writing a word?"

"Not always. It can really be anything. Anything at all."

"Okay." Her gaze took in the post office in an attempt to receive inspiration. She decided, "I'll write something nice." and wrote "unity" on my left arm.

We continued to wait in line, made small talk. And when all was over, we introduced ourselves twice to each other and waved goodbye about five times. It was great.

I then went outside, W. took my photo. Do not be confused by the word on my t-shirt "Mariposa" which means butterfly in Spanish. Today's word is really on my arm. Frankly, I think I look like one of those models from the Modell's catalogues. And no, that's not a pained expression on my face, it's a decaffeinated smile.

Ronny July 13, 2007

Today was a hot day in Austin. Apparently as hot as 100 degrees...I couldn't tell you if it was in the shade, cause I was under a hot metal roof all day.

I got the word "alligator" from Ronny. He was passing through and asked me what was on my neck (the word from last night). So I told him about the project and he wrote for me. He told me alligator is his favorite word.

At first I didn't know what she'd written. And then she said, "Can I tell you?" We were at a local Mexican restaurant. There was West African music blasting overhead and so we were shouting at each other. I said, "Okay."

"Cancer. I wrote cancer."

It was the first time someone wrote something on me where I was totally mortified. I'm terrified of cancer and all that it brings, and have people close to me who are living and battling cancer. Florinda did not know this about me, though.

"Grrl - why did you write cancer on me?"

"Because this nine-year-old boy in my class told me today that he has cancer. Leukemia. I didn't realize he had cancer until he told me. It's been on my mind all day."

And then, I thanked her. For humbling me with this word. For inviting me to share something that moved her so deeply. And for allowing all of us at that table to share the weight of our struggles.

Gezla - the name of Yvonne's dog. Which was cool, cause Wura and I had just been talking about dogs. About how we become attached to our pets.

This evening Jen and I were sitting under the amazing Crape Myrtles at Cafe Mundi. The flowers were bright pink, and the leaves formed a gorgeous canopy over our heads. I asked Jen to write a word on me and she wrote "summon". Ooh la la. That's a Crape Myrtle trunk in my hand. I've been repeating the name of the tree because I just learned it. Isn't that a great name? Summon the Crape Myrtle! Sounds like magic.

W. was talking me about the fact that every artist has a moment of deep vulnerability - where they just don't get what they want. I guess that's true. I might spend an entire day working on one poem or chapter and not get what I want out of the process. Or just have something be flawed in a small or not so small way.

Well, today, I was not feeling well and not feeling like asking anyone for a word. I was laid up, and the thought of having to interact with anyone just made me nauseous. So there you have it. I didn't get a word today. I did, however, lie on the floor after inking my dog's paw after which he ran it across my back in his meager resistance to participating in this project. That's him, in the photo. That's my hand reaching to clean his paw. That's me on the floor, where I lay for like 5 minutes following this photo. Trying to find a way up.

I know it looks like he scratched me, but in a way, isn't that the most authentic dog word there could be (besides a paw print)?

Camille DuPrang July 8, 2007

Today, Camille, Wura and I met up for a celebratory drink. It was the perfect occasion to ask Camille to write a word on me. She was psyched. I was, too. She asked if she could write it on my chest. I agreed. She wrote home, complete with heart. Now that's a nicely layered idiom.