Maggie Scratch is Going to Libro Azul Ibiza

Sophia Brucklacher

sophia and libro azul

I haven’t met Sophia yet, but I will soon. Anyway, I can tell you, she’s a hard worker, she loves dogs and deep sea diving and a photographer named Gato. She runs a shop full of books and I’m honored to say, she’s invited Maggie and me to participate.

We’ll be there in February to celebrate!

sophia and gato and dogs

Thank you Sophia and Gato and gang!

Gato

 

maggie in libro azul

And thanks to Helen Gosch for this pic of the book

at

Libro Azul

a few years ago

in such an honored spot!

Maggie Scratch in Barcelona Today In Love With Total Decadence

La Marquise Decadente

 Miriam.jpg

In case you can’t guess, this is a bakery. In case you can’t get to Barcelona, I’ll just have to give you a taste of what you’re missing. First of all, there’s Miriam/Milagros who works miracles with her cakes. Beetroot, carrot, key-lime, Brazilian, Russian, of course choco, her cinnamon buns she calls rolls, Red Velvet, tea, coffee, cookies, candy, colorful, generous, gracious, homemade, a touch of class everywhere you look.

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You can sit and dream and actually eat what you dream! Have breakfast, have a snack, feel blessed, especially if Miriam is there. Just meet her! Talk to her! Listen to her voice! She’s a pearl of a girl, as sweet as a baker can be. I pass by her shop almost every day, I still can’t believe she moved into my hood. I bought the carrot cake and cinnamon bun for my friend Gabriela. We had fun! We had a party! We brainstormed! We laughed! Miriam’s cakes—they do that!

cakes.jpg

 

And she makes a special something for a salty gal, like me!

It’s the Goat Cheese Pie!

I love it.

And…the best thing is —

it loves me!

Goat Cheese Pie

 

 

 

Maggie Scratch in Barcelona Tonight On Her Favorite Bench

Casa Fuster

Casa Fuster.jpgTry to imagine my bench. It’s directly in front of this building. I had just finished a very juicy dubbing for bottled water that was being aired in Mexico. I had to have a fluid voice and let the water flow through me.

I LOVE WATER.

The dubbing studio was down the street from my favorite bench. It’s a stone bench, smooth and rounded, fluid, almost watery. I have met friends at this bench.I have smoked cigarettes at this bench. I have written emails. Talked on the phone. Done nothing. Looked at the fountain. At the building. At the trees. I bought an Orbea bicycle at a shop on the corner. But the thing I do most on this bench is write things down. Take a few notes. Try to catch TIME. To pin it down. To trap it. To make it stand still. To eat up the seconds with words. To capture the beauty I see all around me. To hold the night. The secret in my palm. The wonder. The moment. Like water. Let it flow through me.

Maggie Scratch in Barcelona With John Howlett

John Howlett

and

Grandson Cicc

John and Cicc.jpg

John. Nonno. Grandfather. Dad. Writer. Scriptwriter. Novelist. Historian. Biographer. Playwright. Guide. Guru. He gave me the time, he looked me in the eye, he wrote a line in my notebook, he assured me and reassured me, he understood, he called it, he nailed it, he heard it, he heard me, he answered me, he pinned it down, he turned it around, he made me laugh, he gave me the word, he knows, he knew, he told it like it is, he’s done it, he’s undone it, he’s redoing it now, it never ends, it ends, it begins and it spins, we tell it, retell it, try to sell it?, let go.

Aye, there’s the rub!

Let go?

Finish?

Push the button?

Done?

Today, for the first time, I realize, the main character in my story, The Blue Shepherd — His name is John! Could it be…unconsciously…? Who knows why or where or how creation began, the story revealed, our heroes, our friends, our loved ones, the feared ones, a mystery without end. Thank you John Howlett! You and only you gave this gift to me… the seven words I need to finish this script, plucked from the mouth of … Leonardo Da Vinci !

“Dimmi se mai fu fatta alcuna cosa…”

“Tell me if anything ever was completed…”

 

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Thank you to daughter, Isabel for the pics!

Maggie Scratch in Barcelona Tonight Making Friends

Sometimes you meet incredible people. I’ve been to L’ Astrolabi Gràcia a few times but I never met Jordi Cantavella until the other night. Not only does he have a million stories — he’s written a million stories! And, gaging by his energy, his wit and his love of art and   living it — he’ll write a million more! How he does it, I don’t know. He juggles people and stories and booze and gigs as if he were shaking  martinis with a half a dozen arms.

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Jordi Cantavella

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El Justì

And where did he find these musicians?  A singer-guitar player  and a magic violin. Was it vintage? Folk? Cantautor? Yes, all of the above. It was more of that singer-songwriter stuff that I love.

The next surprise was a photographer named Rich. Just got back from a six month gig in India. Now Rich was one of those people  Jordi  juggled before the crowd came in. He juggled the three of us, Rich and Montse and me, and in fifteen minutes we connected — we were a threesome of old friends!  You can see by his photo what kind of person he is. Kind is the first word that comes to my mind. But not only that—he photographed my book and started tweeting Maggie Scratch ! It was Rich who imitated Jack Nicholson’s Easy Rider tick, which not everyone can do, it’s a rapid fire elbow movement with the words, “Nick nick!”

Rich Bowen.jpg

Rich Bowen

Montse Prats

Montse.jpgTalking to Montse was a breath of fresh air, what a smile — she’s beautiful ! She’s smart! She’s soulful and real! She has many stories and I hope to read them some day. Hello Montse! Hello friend! What a treasure we all found in Astrolabi that day!

The Author of Maggie Scratch in Yesteryear With Her Mother’s Voice

my mother.jpg

Fortunately, early this morning, I was with Xavier, a psychiatrist, on the way to the pool.  I told him my mother spoke to me in my dream. I heard her voice. Clear as day. It was her! My mother! She said, “Hi Sue.” That’s what she called me, sometimes, especially when she called me on the phone. There was static around her voice in my dream, she was breaking up, like a long distance call from yesteryear, but I heard her so clearly, so real, so alive, speaking to me in my sleep. I told Xavier, I’ve been dreaming a lot since the chiropractor cracked my emotions and popped them to the top. All kinds of dreams and nightmares too, Maggie Scratch style. Tarantino, assassins, horrible dreams,  people betray me and then disappear. And the Buddhist meditation I practice every day — I can’t find the light! It’s gone! Or…was it ever there? The dark side surfacing, my unconscious, my subconscious… everywhere!  Xavier said he knows a person, Hans Wilhelm who talks about  communicating with loved ones passed. Perhaps my mother came back to soothe me, to say, look, here’s the light, don’t worry, I’m with you still. Protecting, comforting, giving the light. Life changing to death, is it really, as Hans Wilhelm says, like walking into another room?  The spirit lives on? My mother’s voice?  I’m here still, I’m with you, I’m light, I’m love, I’m the voice that never dies. Always by your side?

Maggie Scratch in Barcelona Tonight With The Magic

Café D’Automne

16.Ducreux-Martín-Auditori-Barcelona

Claire Ducreux

I call this Café D’Automne a ballet. Is it? Why not. It’s movement and dance and music and magic. It’s Art. It’s Artists. It’s artists at work. It’s inspired, it’s inspiring, it’s a father and daughter  tap dancing, it’s whistling, it’s singing, it’s a tree. A park bench on wheels and umbrellas that fly, it’s thunder and rain and a stage floor full of musicians and my favorite thing — dry autumn leaves! It’s fall, it’s a bar, it’s a cafe, it’s love! It’s a feel good treat. It’s Claire in her body that you really shouldn’t miss. Is she a bird? Oh! That’s Mayte’s voice! What? You’ve never heard her sing?  A soul bewitched, that voice, it’s an other-worldly string. For a moment, for several moments, Claire hardly moves, but she flies — she flaps wings! She graces this earth with hardly a sound, she twirls, toes on the ground, arms full of Mayte’s sound. Come see for yourself this stage full of charm, of all kinds of strings and many more things — only three nights, what? And then, the show, the magic, the Flamenco and all the songs…gone?

Mayte.jpg

Mayte Martín

The Author of Maggie Scratch in Barcelona Today With Evelyn

Evelyn

Evelyn Lopez

This is a person I met by chance. How could it be possible that such good fortune would come my way? I mean, you can see she is a beauty, but the truth is, that’s besides the point. The point, of course, is the question: What kind of person is she? I really didn’t have a chance to ask myself that. It was a flash, our meeting. She was waiting for me at a table outside at the Velodromo in her dark sunglasses, looking like a queen. It was great, both of us in our glasses, grinning ear to ear! It was an immediate YES! It was magic. We connected and that was that. Slowly, I am discovering : Evelyn believes in me. She believes in my story, she believes in the screenplay. I was once told that’s all it takes is one person to believe in you.  I’ve been working on this project for over twenty years. Many people have come and gone. The original producer died. There has never been another one like him, so devoted, so convinced, so determined to bring The Blue Shepherd to life, until now.

Eve car wash.jpgThank you Evelyn

Eve air.jpg

The Author of Maggie Scratch in Yesteryear With Her Daughter

Sadie Can Guerchu

This is Can Guerchu where I wrote Maggie Scratch. In fact, I wrote a great deal of it lying on that very same sofa where my daughter is having her bottle. In front of that sofa was the big glass door where I had a view of Benimussa and the neighboring hills. The jacket on the table was called Chista. “Chista! Chista!” my daughter would squeal, and it meant, “Let’s go out!”  We roamed the hills of Benimussa in a fairytale come true. I held a little hand, a darling child, by my side. I named her “Niña del bosque” as we climbed through the forest.  Who knew! Who could imagine! She would grow up! She’s a grown woman now in her Norwegian Woods. Look at the fireplace hanging on the left. Everyone came to Can Guerchu to sit there and rest. It was our hearth, the heart of our home. It lit our life, our souls and our bones! This was a time when the world was all right. When there was a balance, so it seemed, between wrong and right. I never took this fairytale for granted. It was always a gift. It was always a treasure, fresh air, sweet water, almond blossoms and oranges, that sense of being free. There are so many stories in those golden yesteryears. Friends, lovers, land and sea, my daughter’s eyes beaming still, my daughter’s eyes seeing me.