inspiration: (yes yes yes)

prince/mulberry streets, nyc

jan 25, 2012

dc 2011: VAMOS

these ladies posed for me at roland garros--cute, no?

i don't know their names or exactly where they're from.

but i think i know what they'll be tuned in to tomorrow, round about 8am est...

@roland garros, may 28, 2011

© anita aguilar

***

compulsory, fun preview here

love: T-time

@the back porch

sept 21, 2011

us open 2011: it must be...

it’s been a year of thrilling tennis so far (with inspired writing, always as the accompaniment). but there has been been one sort of disappointing thread for me, and other nadal fans, throughout the season. an irksome (now 0-6) record against djokovic in finals.

before yesterday’s early evening match, a few friends extended me notes of support (loved that) and a few asked me if i was nervous. was i ever! i know some deeply devoted fans who wouldn’t have watched it live, to avoid witnessing and experiencing a potential disappointment. my line on monday had been, i have to believe. if he believes, I have to. which maybe sounds a little corny to say out loud. but if I didn’t believe he could win, well then what would be the point of watching?

and watching nadal fight—and then get pushed back—and fight again—and then get pushed back, that wasn’t easy. i was cursing, jumping, pacing around my apartment. by the middle of the third set, i’d given myself a headache. by the end of the third, my voice was hoarse. i’d hoped i’d be gargling champagne (or at least, white wine) in celebration. after the loss, i drank, but without the same gusto. i wondered for a moment if it was all worth it, to be so crazy about a sport.

but I wouldn’t have given up those hours—witnessing that inconceivable toughness, physical and mental, from both players. i would have hated to miss all those exhilarating moments, even if in the end they added up to a “loss” for my favorite player.

one of the reasons I love sports, especially tennis, is at the best or most dramatic of times, it's like "life" (i'll leave it to the real writers to plumb that more eloquently) and with the best athletes, you're reminded how you want to conduct yourself in it. (one of my favorite quick rafa-isms after last night's match: accept the challenge, and work.)

and in some funny way, this particular rivalry is to me, is a bit like love and relationships--the way i (like to, try to) do them, anyway... believing always (though occasionally hearing the doubts of others, and sometimes getting set back on my heels). knowing, as nice as the other guy is, he has the power to crush. understanding that maybe i don’t have the right "strategy," or don’t know what one should be. but i’m there, always “with great illusion,” and enjoying the moments that are brilliant and beautiful and fun. never really sure of the outcome--i can't know or control the other guy, only me and what i do--but knowing that I’ve helped make those good moments happen before... well...again, believing always in just being there and trying my best at that moment…

we will see what's gonna happen, no?

(VAMOS)

when work isn't work

it's so nice to be paid to take photos AND have your lovely lady friends swing by for a hello and some photo ops...

rachel and t...

aug 10, 2011

pretty city: love, this afternoon

madison square park, 6:44pm

© anita aguilar

inspiration: tonight you belong to me

read a good poem: "gentle as silence"

day's end. lourdes.
Originally uploaded by ata08

"Need" from The Collected Poems of Babette Deutsch
by Babette Deutsch

What do we need for love—a midnight fire
Flinging itself by fistfuls up the chimney
In soft bright snatches? Do we need the snow,
Gentle as silence, covering the scars
Of weeks of hunger, years of shabby having?
Summer or winter? A heaven of stars? A room?
The smiling mouth, the sadness of desire
Are everywhere the same. If lovers go
Along an unknown road, they find no less
What is familiar. Let them stay at home,
And all will still be strange. This they know
Who with each heartbeat fight the fear of change.

this is the first poem by babette deutsch that i've read. found it, somewhat randomly, tonight. i was immediately drawn in.

did a little googling, and uncovered a few tidbits. i am officially fascinated:

she's a new yorker...attended barnard (like me!)...and she, along with her husband, avrahm yarmolinsky, translated pushkin's eugene onegin, one of the finest, most treasured gifts i've received, from a great love of mine...

i love the reviews of her work (not "genius," but poems show feeling and integrity...ah, genius is overrated!)...

and i rather love this remark of hers: "the poet ... like the lover ... is a person unable to reconcile what he knows with what he feels. his peculiarity is that he is under a certain compulsion to do so."

untitled (bike memory)

© 2007 matias aguilar. all rights reserved.

"untitled" from isle of man series, part 7.

matias has posted some great new photos from his isle of man series. i couldn't decide which one to "feature" here, but i particularly love the mood and light in this shot. and i have a thing for motorcycles.

not that i have ever driven one myself.

but a dear, former boyfriend of mine developed a singular passion for motorcycles shortly after we started dating. he purchased a used suzuki gs850, a modest, but very cool bike. i had never been near a bike, let alone on one, and it didn't hold much appeal ("scary!"). but when this particular opportunity came along--to be escorted around town by this sweet, sweet guy, at the point when he was falling in love with the idea of being on the road, on a bike--i started to imagine what that kind of freedom might mean. i couldn't resist. he was fearless, and my "fear" fell away pretty quickly. which is not to say I didn't hold on pretty damn tight...

there maybe no better way to see new york city. as the passenger, you can literally sit back and enjoy a wonderful, unobstructed view of the sky and the cityscape. and you hear nothing but the constant, gentle whir of the engine, the wind against your helmet.

more than a few times, late at night, we rode across the brooklyn bridge. manhattan shining bright behind us, brooklyn twinkling ahead, everything truly aglow under the full moon light. as if we were watching an amazing silent film. or, creating one.

unforgettable.