liscious’s posterous

I don’t know what I have done to deserve Robert but this friend of only a few years has become a traveling companion extraordinaire.  Faithful and devoted and fun I get the sense that Robert and I will always find the time to take a trip together for the rest of our lives.  It’s like that.  ‘My gay husband’ I call him.  He has described us as an old married couple who don’t have sex but still enjoy each other’s company.  I would add that we have men in common.  In his fifties, imposingly stylish, he gets as much ‘play’ as I do on the flirting front.  Yesterday in the ‘campo’ in front of our flat in Venice a gorgeous guy walked past Robert as he took his café correcto (coffee and strong alcohol) at the local bar.  The man stopped and quite openly looked at Robert, then continued to walk and stopped again to turn and look at Robert, then at the top of the bridge in front of the Arsenale the man turned once again and this time removed his sunglasses and nodded approvingly.  Robert just smiled.  “Don’t you want to call him over?”  I ask.  “It is not that kind of vacation honey.”  He says.
God love Robert.
It has taken a few days to get into the swing of just doing nothing but being here.  And this is Venice.  There is nothing more on the face of the earth that you want to do but just be here.  This is the most beautiful city I have ever been to.  Bar none. 

I take a special pride in being able to orient myself anytime anywhere.  A special gift that all these years of traveling has given me.  Robert will say many times that I will have a wonderful sense of direction- especially for a woman- he says!  (even the open minded have their little ticks.. )  This city however will take my directional self-confidence and grind it into a pulp.  I got lost, every single time, even with a map, even asking directions.

The little canals and bridges that link together the various sizes of squares (campos) and walkways/streets (calle) form an intricate and almost impenetrable maze.  Charming view after charming view after charming view on parade and you think – I must come back to this square… certainly I can find it again – and you just don’t.  Well, not at first.  Venice unravels itself slowly, carefully, to those who take the time to find it.  I can imagine this as the birthplace of some kind of naughtiness.  Some indefinable new trick the Europeans spoke about only in hushed tones in proper society but then scurried back to their castles to try out with their mistresses.

Today I joined Robert on the square at the café.  He is always up very early.  His finished double espresso and shot glass of something or other and the crumbs of the sugary and doughy chocolate croissant are all that is left of his breakfast.  We have spent day after day eating and drinking.  Four squares a day.  Wine with lunch and dinner and alcohol between those…. He glances up from his reading glasses- gorgeous hand made Italian numbers he splurged on the day before-  “morning honey… chocolate croissant for breakfast?”.  “oh nooooo….  “ I frown and rub my belly.  “… too heavy….”  I stretch and get up to go inside and order what I want.  I come back out and sit and when the waiter comes to serve me a café latte and a big ham sandwich Robert almost falls off his chair laughing.

My father once said that one of the reasons he married my mother is because she knew how to eat.  I think Robert likes this about me too.


The lull that this portion of the trip has gotten me into is even more spectacular given the stress that came before it and will undoubtedly follow.  I realize only now how much I do, all the time, every day.  And as much as I am vowing now to take time to live more simply and at a slower rhythm I know that once I get back to things I wont.  The occasional quick check back into the internet and quick glances at emails – ( HOW many???!!!) demonstrate that nicely.  I come back from a fifteen minute pop into the city’s only internet point (it takes about forty five minutes to find the damn place and it is hotter than hell in there).  The few emails I managed to address have me so uptight that Robert has forbidden any more of that nonsense while I am on vacation with him.

This is a time for reflection.  Surely.  That must be what is happening to me.  I go between long listless thoughts that sift past me to deluges of ideas I barely have the time to jot down.  Where I came from, where I am going, how to get there… 
There are a few choice ideas about what to do with FOF.  Real gems.  And there is the feature script.  This sifting through process is so important; it is so rare to get distance like this.  I savor it.  Ben sends me ideas… I read them, I let them sit.  Like I am doing at the museums.  Just let it be, let it happen.  And I have clarity- I think- I see the  “but why?” ….  I see the focal point without squinting.  And like that amazing painting of the house in the dark by Magritte in the Betty Guggenheim museum in Venice- I have a strong, very visceral and indefinable reaction to it all.  Definitions are for those who need to get un-lost.  I don’t need to.  Not yet.  Not yet…