later saturday

me at my grandparents grave and uncle george´s memorial.


we finally went to the show at the ancient theater. it turned out to be a play, and that meant that we would appreciate it a little less since we didnt understand the dialogue. i tried to just appreciate the visuals, such as the costumes, that were very elaborate. i tried to follow what i could, but after about 30 minutes, it got to be a bit too weird for me to figure out, so i stopped trying. it was almost like watching ‘un chien andalou’ with a bunch of surrealists who were in on it. it started with a couple of guys feeding shit to a monster, then one of them quitting because they didnt like being around shit all day. by the end someone got married. in between was a lot of fantastic stuff, that almost reminded me of the wizard of oz. the character of hermes was wearing a bright silver sequined suit. there were a lot of scarecrows jumping around and dancing. all the actors were men, following ancient tradition. i dont know what else to say.

before we went to the theater, my aunt took us to see where my grandparents are buried. we walked through a lot of the cemetery, all of which looked the same, except for the pictures that some people put in. before my aunt showed me the stone marker, i recognized it because it had, in addition to a photo of my grandparents, a photo of my late uncle george (after whom i was named). i saw his picture before the other, and it hit me a bit harder than i expected. i didnt really know him (nor did i know my grandparents very well), but i remember my dad saying that he was his favorite brother; it was george that my dad followed to america, and helped him get his berrings. like i said, i didnt know either of them too well, but emotions nonetheless overtook me. my grandparents died old, 90 and 95 years old; my uncle died when he was 51, rather young. the beauty of his photo struck me, and it does as i look at it again.