Overlaps

It's a big city, but a small world. Lots of overlaps and synchronicities this week.



I figure I know about 50 of the 2.7 million people here in Buenos Aires, so it was a surprise to run into Diego and Jesus on the street three corners from home. But then, I've read that statistically speaking, it's extremely probable that some extremely improbable things will happen—you just can't predict which ones. So I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that even within my very tiny circle, some of the separations turn out to be much fewer than six degrees. It turns out I'm in trouble with one of my regular blog readers, of whom I estimate there are five. Remember my crush on Alejandra, the actress? Well, it turns out that she's an ex-girlfriend of the ex-husband of my good friend Victoria. Oh dear. (Hi, Victoria. Love ya lots!)

(My actresses post seems to have caused friction in various circles near and far. My sister subtly suggested--well, said-- that she didn't care to hear (or read) anything at all about me having crushes on exotic foreign actresses. Meanwhile back here in the Southern Hemisphere, Alejandra's husband apparently wanted some reassuring that this yanqui plays for the other team...)

Surprising coincidences aren't restricted to the physical world--they can happen in the brain, too. At that Oliverio Girondo symposium I went to on Monday, they did some poetry reading. I could follow enough to get some of the imagery, but let's face it, it's hard to keep paying attention to poetry even when you speak the language. So after a poem or two, my mind was wandering. But I get points for the fact that it was staying on topic. I was working on a concrete poem I have in mind that is much more fun to think about than it would be to read. It's nothing more than a list of Spanish words I like. Of course, refunfuñar makes the cut. So do desafortunadamente, mamotreto, paracaídas, nunca, ronronear, latido, chupapijas, tragaluz, esmalte, and pulular. (Only one of those is dirty, though I suspect that if you don't know Spanish, several of them sound a bit saucy.) But at this moment, I was reconsidering the position of felpudo. And just as I was thinking "Now that's a great word, it should be up at the top of the list, maybe even the title" I tune back into the poetry reading and what do I hear? The reader actually says felpudo! I'm not making this up. And it's not like it has some common, general meaning that would occasion its use in lots of poetry—like, say, because, sunset, or feeling. It means doormat!

And in a less impressive but more personally-satisfying synchronicity, I met Gabo Ferro! It was at an appealing event called Confesionario (Confessional), in which two guests and one musician are casually interviewed about their private lives. I love the idea, although the confessor, Cecilia Szperling, wasn't nearly as probing as I'd have liked. She was quite content sticking with amusing anecdotes, as opposed to actually digging for private sins and public embarrassments, which is what the concept really begs for. Anyway, Gabo chatted and sang a half dozen songs or so. It was in a tiny venue, about 70 seats, so it was easy to just go up and chat with him after. I've been thinking lately about how much I want to hear him sing in New York, specifically at Joe's Pub, which would be the ideal place for him. So I say Hi, love your work, want you to sing in NY, and the first thing he says is that's he's been trying to get into Joe's Pub! OK, it's not crazy amazing, but he kissed me twice (greeting and parting), which is much more important.

Needless to say, at the Carlos Fuentes reading I attended last night, I neither spoke with the reader afterwards nor received two kisses from him. Some wildly improbable events are just that and nothing more.