the natural birth partner

My partner is 40 weeks pregnant. The baby inside of her is as big as a pumpkin. She is due any day now. I feel like I forgot everything I learned in birthing class and I'm still not through reading, The Birth Partner, A Complete Guide to Childbirth for Dads, Doulas and All Other Labor Companions.
Anxiety is what to expect when you're expecting. The trick, I think, is not to think too much over such an act of nature, because birthing is an animal instinct. I learned this from Dr. Michel Odent in the documentary film, "The Business of Being Born," where he refers to birth as, "an animal affair." It was the most meaningful piece of information I learned on my path as a birth partner. "The birthing process is a harmony of love, and flow of love hormones between mother and baby not to be disturbed or intervened with unless absolutely necessary..." I can respect that.
I used the drawing for Jennifer's baby shower invitation.

february

People lose gloves, inevitably.
They drop out of pocket-books and pockets.
Between apartments and farmer's markets.
Season after season.
They're left stranded.
Abandoned.
Mishandled.
Ignored in corners on stairs.
In drab backs of cabs,
While tipping on fares.
At the theater.
Near parking meters.
Flattened.
Trampled.
Over man-holes in SoHo.
As you know.
Lost.
Divorced.
Independent, relatively speaking.

woodstock

About two weeks ago I started Haruki Murakami's new book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, A Memoir. I finished the book and a series of bird drawings last weekend in Woodstock. Inspired, I went for jogs, hikes and swims. Jennifer and I did some bird watching in the yard. I ran in the narrow shoulder off Rt. 28 where cars sped by infrequently. My eye followed lawns and trees to the mountain range. The hot sun followed too. Breezes ruffled leaves as I drew in the evening. Crickets were comforting companions. At night we made a fire. In the morning we drank tea. Remnants of my dreams came to mind the next day. I remembered how an old art instructor used to teach contour drawing by simulating with a pencil, the act of an ant crawling ever-so-slowly around the subject. I was on automatic pilot after a few miles. Once I reached a desirable distance, I slowed down to a walk. I stretched my legs and listened to my heart beating. I walked into the middle of the road and lined up my heart's center over the two yellow lines and continued walking. I pictured the road's inexhaustible reach. A heard a vehicle approaching but was unsure from which direction. I walked back to the shoulder. Two cars sped by me simultaneously going in each direction. I crossed the street and made my way back to the house.

proust-à-porter

The magnificent and lamentable family of the nervous is the salt of the earth. It's they and no one else who founded religions and created masterpieces." The above quote, from Proust, rested on a wall in the atelier of the late fashion couturier, Yves Saint Laurent, who died in his apartment last week in Paris at the age of 71. After reading several obituaries on his death, I learned, (mainly from the extensive Women's Wear Daily story, " Au Revoir, Yves, that he was a nervous wreck and riddled with anxiety. Dubbed a maverick and revolutionary, he is known for questioning the institution of dress, sexuality and beauty, and bringing Parisian beatnik style to couture runways. He was a voracious reader, stated the WWD column, and cherished his artistic influences, such as Christian Berard, Jean Cocteau, Louis Jouvet, and above all, Marcel Proust, calling them his "aesthetic phantoms." He said he never wanted to finish reading "Remembrance of Things Past" because he couldn't bear to part with it.
At Chateau Gabriel, a 19th-century castle in Normandy that he owned jointly with his partner, Pierre Bergé, all the guest rooms were named after Proustian characters.
Sadly, his nervous condition worsened with time, and Saint Laurent became reliant on drugs, especially when it came to presenting a season with a new collection. At the announcement of his retirement in 2002, Mr. Saint Laurent said, “I have known fear and the terrors of solitude. I have known those fair-weather friends we call tranquilizers and drugs. I have known the prison of depression and the confinement of hospital. But one day, I was able to come through all of that, dazzled yet sober.”

autopsy in rainbows

I sent a text to April when I heard the news. "Heath Ledger Found Dead in His NY Apt!" 4:46:21pm, 01/22/2008. Suddenly it was everywhere. Found naked in his bedroom by his housekeeper and masseuse. Pills strewn about. The making of a suicide in headlines. April and I had discussed In Rainbows. The new album by the band Radiohead who offered their latest CD for download at a pay-what-you-want price online, (www.inrainbows.com). No longer available, I picked up a copy in store. I was intrigued. April had called it beautiful. She knew Heath too. They attended the Marc Jacobs fashion show together last fall. A year ago this date I watched Broke Back Mountain on DVD on a cold evening in an uptown sublet. I waited so long to see it. Amazing love story meets awkward real life. She got goosebumps when she got the text she later said. I thought about him as if she did for a minute. White noise. My cat snoring. In Rainbows sitting in the carousel played out. Toxicology report to be announced. "It's about the fucking panic of realizing you're going to die...," stated Thom Yorke, (Radiohead's lead singer), speaking of their new album in an interview with The Observer Music Monthly."...and that at any time soon I could possibly have a heart attack when I next go for a run." I am aware of the chances too. Up and down the path along the West Side Highway, between Battery Park and Fort Tryon. My favorite track on the record is Reckoner. On it, Yorke sings; "You can't take it with yer/Dancing for your pleasure/You are not to blame for/Bittersweet distractor/Dare not speak it's name/Dedicated to all human beings/Because we seperate like ripples on a blank shore/In rainbows/Because we seperate like ripples on a blank shore/Reckoner/Take me with yer/Dedicated to all human beings/...
The album's artwork is equally sensual, designed by Stanley Donwood.