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Maria Espinosa's Blog

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Aug.09.2010
THE VENDOR   A dark-skinned Indian, all afternoon she treads back and forth along the beach, the leather strap digging into her shoulder, the satchel heavy and weighing down her steps.  The hot sun burns into her.  Her pink dress is faded with many washings. The satchel is actually a wooden peg...
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Aug.07.2010
The heat kills.  enough heat and humidity in just a short walk to be totally wiped out. The idyllic house by the ocean had its problems:  hundreds of beachgoers appeared in July, and they loomed up close to the huge glass windows which serve as walls.  Garbage overflowed the one big bin near the...
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Jul.13.2010
mexican summer
July 13, 2010 I've been a month now on the coast, a tiny village called Cuastecomate (never mind its website which boasts a mythical golf club).  I am so close to the ocean that the waves lap the steps of this house at high tide. We are at the mouth of a long, narrow bay with steep hills on either...
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May.22.2010
LEAVING   It is Saturday evening, and in three weeks I fly to Mexico.  The Pacific Coast. A dream job house sitting for a French Canadian friend for the summer in a tiny village that’s not even on the map.  And then in the Fall I hope to stay on, finish the next book and the next..the next ..in a...
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May.22.2010
LEAVING   It is Saturday evening, and in three weeks I fly to Mexico.  The Pacific Coast. A dream job house sitting for a French Canadian friend for the summer in a tiny village that’s not even on the map.  Then in the Fall I hope to stay on, finish the next book and the next..the next ..in a place...
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Feb.04.2010
Blogging has been difficult for me -- it began as part of promoting my last book, presented as a necessary kind of work in today's writing world.  I am not relaxed or comfortable with it at all, and yet drawn to the ease with which it can be done.   Half joking, I said to Ivory Madison at Redroom...
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Dec.24.2009
Growing  up in suburban Long Island, I generally hated Christmas  with its cold, miserable weather, artificial indoor heat, its frantic buying and giving and of presents, and the gluttonous meals. Some years ago, I went off to the California desert to spend time alone in a place called The Galaxy...
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Dec.22.2009
  With appreciation to Tamo Noonan, my original website creator.  I was terrified – whatever one posts on the Web can be viewed forever all over the planet, and God knows, perhaps beyond. As an office temp, I had stared hopelessly at the keyboard back in the Eighties before Windows became operable...
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Dec.04.2009
“La senora tambien...” –  words in rapid Spanish come from the two women sitting behind me on BART  I strain to understand, but can only make out a little of what they are talking about. How difficult it would be to live in Mexico, I think. And how difficult for immigrants who come here speaking a...
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Sep.01.2009
MY BROTHER'S COOL JAZZ www.leecronbach.com   When my brother, Lee Cronbach, was a teenager he played the piano in a way that haunted me because his improvisations seemed to echo something in my own spirit.  He played with a driving rhythm, fusing elements of jazz and Middle Eastern music....
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Aug.23.2009
RADIO INTERVIEWS   Over the past few months I’ve had phone interviews with radio show hosts based in different parts of the country such as Louisiana, Tennessee, Washington, DC, Colorado, and Los Angeles. All this has been in the course of publicizing DYING UNFINISHED, a tangled, edgy novel...
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Aug.19.2009
The Real Taboo
THE REAL TABOO   Today I talked to a book group. I talked about the complexity of human character, the mutability of emotion.  One formidable woman in her eighties asked if I had ever fallen in love. What is love? I mused.  She announced that she indeed knew what was to fall in love. Did you...
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Mar.12.2009
Things arise here almost as by design. The surf is rough outside the hotel, and on the third day I walk barefoot in the soft sand to the calmer west end of the beach. It’s still crowded with holiday visitors. Teenage boys are surfing with skim boards, and there are a lot of them. Heedless, I walk...
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Mar.11.2009
              I arrive at night after a long bus ride south from Puerto Vallarta. It’s dark, with glaring lights around the dingy bus station in the center of town. I take a taxi to the hotel, hoping that there really will be a room. Although I’d made reservations over the phone, it had been a...
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Feb.14.2009
  I am going through an enormous shift- private to public. Too many unfinished works, which I lacked the courage to complete and submit. Example: I worked for months on reflections about an upcoming high school reunion. It was so painful to look at -- and then when I went, a kind of healing...
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