clean house take naps go to fair write Saturday Sunday Monday

ah sweet weekend if only I didn't have this daaarnnn coldflu or whatever it is hanging around in the back of my throat and now falling down into my lungs and bronchi ah suite wraptaur you know viri respiri yes?

well except for lingering illness it is delightful to have three days off we both take naps the woman and I and then I sit at my machine typing for hours slowly working through the backlog of ideas and changes for the next level especially rewrites now on tj.maptext (offline) and the new index pages here and here and here WATCH OUT THE LINKS ARE NOT ALL TESTED and it is soooo very easy to get carried away and lost in double-spellings and meanings like this next one sacred and scarred which my son showed me eighteen years ago playing nintendo and now I incorporate into my maptext around Tecate peak

I meanwhile think of whathisname from los ninos who said such flattering things about Mikey and me and what did we do

We treated him like some kind of bankolottery scam spammer heh that was a particularly bad day we received his mail our first holiday day off Memorial Day it was and we were feeling realllllly tired and worn out and then something just snapped and the way he said can we get together and talk we smelled fish leaping out of the water and instead of being polite we just blew the cannons down into the sea and wham

suppose there ain't no more fish in that net now! I really need to write him and apologize.

Also finished yesterday the translations for Luisa and the instituto,
showed one of the original in-Spanish texts to our neighbor Friday night as I was walking out to go to the little literary group meeting "en este ensayo la autora hace una critical revision of various theoretical notions of history: the pretense of truth, the poetic function of the historic novel"

and Gustavo threw back his head and laughed estos son mamadas, Daniel - these are absurd, ridiculous, and I said what you ain't a literature nerd?

Nerd? he asked, oh yes, no, I ain't no kind of nerd no soy ningun tipo de "nurdo" je je no, mamon, no, but excuse me no offense, okei? Okay.

It is well known that the poets of the Contemporaneos group had an interest in the work of sor Juana, but until now little attention has been paid delimiting that interest. In barroque poetry the possibility of understanding the universe is studied based on two pathways of cognitive apprehension debated by medieval academics, accepting in the end the impossibility of ever achieving true knowledge. Cuesta, in his poem Canto a un dios mineral, alluding

Proust in his first book wrote about wrote about Proust in his first book wrote about wrote about Proust in his first book wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote about wrote

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But that was all in my head, not on my tongue and except for Gonzalo asking me what I was up to and then showing him that babelon literature nerd text oh I love babylon literature nerds we make some of the mosssssst interesting poets Aye Rudolfo send me some more will you

So then I bade them all farewell - there were six out there on the usual Friday evening sidewalk talk and beer, this time two houses down in front of the neighbor's (he was one of them, too)

And I walked three blocks over to the boulevard, commanding the little street dog not to follow me, past the big ISSSTE store, past the huge boulder of concrete sitting in the middle of the next sidewalk, past the muffler repair shop with its welded muffler man, to the boulevard corner to catch a taxi down into the river zone.

I had gone home to shower and change clothes we got off work at five on Friday and so I caught the bus up onto Otay from Iris and that reminds me got to write more of the bus more of the trolley new transportation hub station now completing at San Ysidro internation - al gate oh there is always too much to write, to say, to do this page is my gate to you me I your

So I rode down into the valley of the river and across the bridge over the cement river channel and around the glorrietas to Ricardo's cafe between CECUT and the Mercado Hidalgo and there, gathered around the table were the two Villa sisters and Pepe and Luisa and Olimpia and Tere was already there and I sat down and mostly just listened and listened and listened and....

Mmmmm they are so damn intelligent and the TV was on so loud it was hard to understand and once I thought they were talking about whatisname the racetrack owner animal lover accused of murder who is running for Mayor here but no they were talking about the Mayor of Mexico City or was it Stalin or Cardenas or Frida Kahlo in her coffin in the palace of Bellas Artes draped under a big Red flag

And one of the few things I said was imagine if he wins the election he can move his animals from the racetrack to the palacio municipal and the gardens outside between the palaces of the city and the state and there can be lions and tigers and bears in amongst the trees and sidewalks and they looked at me weird and I guess that was when they were talking about Frida Kalho with the monkeys in her self portrait, Not not whatisface fulano de gangster who paid to have his name and campaign symbol painted up on the mountain overlooking half the city

Speaking of which according to a newspaper I read last week an army of young men with brooms went up and swept and swept and swept and broke into much sweat and sweat and sweat under the burning heat in the hot afternoon sun and now the gigantic campaign message HUNK up on the Cerro Colorado is all bluuurrrrrrrredddd around the edges ah Mexico the man with his millions of gambling money and God knows what else kind of money everyone whispers money laundering and etc. but he could afford to have his own private army go up two months ago with hundreds of bags full of white lime and now I don't know who is trying to sweep it all away some government contractor I guess working under order of the courts to remove the election propaganda oh Mexico you are learning the wonders of democracy and the true struggle for power and the army of muchachos with brooms sweeping a mountaintop under the blazing sun could it really be true well yes or no but I read it in the newspapers last week so you know it has to be true

And besides, the message is looking verrrrryyyy blurred around the edges where week before last it was crystal clear and I ain't going that blind not yet no

Sigh. To think that some day I might even legally emigrate here and be able to stain my thumb with ink on voting day yes. Ramon hates that; he goes to vote with a wet-nap hidden in his palm and shlup wipes the ink off even before it has a chance to set - "Damn fools think they can brand me with their tatoos..." he growled at the last election Sunday a year or two ago for mid-sexennial congressional or whatever it was... I remember a beautiful woman running for something congress or legislature and her poster up everywhere and the storekeeper around the corner joking diputado de putado je je je it loses it in translation believe me but roughly means deputy of the prostituted.

The last time I saw Ray Blair he asked me if I was voting here yet heh.

The literature group Friday night was talking also about open secrets and how they still have the tendency to speak in whispers in public, hold your voice down don't talk about that but everyone knows it but no one says it AND I suddenly had an intense deja vu right back into the avocado orchards on Mount Helix thirty two years ago before Washingtown when I saw the cliche phrase, or rather heard it whispered in the wind through all those trees OF WHAT EACH OF US KNOWS AND NO ONE TELLS and here it is again in the Tijuana cafe night lift your fingers to your lips and make that charming gesture beautiful senora Villa de Navarro and then

one of the others began telling the story of how remember how everyone used to carry around a card signed by your congressional deputy and

once how my auntie cooked a big dish of food and made us go with her on the bus imagine that on the bus with a huge cassarolle of food to give to the deputy congressman like some kind of prehispanic offering to Moctezuma oh my God have mercy on us all but REALLY can you believe it?

And I thought oh my beloved Mexico are you really such a tribute state, such a tribute empire ruled over by tecnocrats from Tenochtitlan?

everywhere I go I see echoes of the ancient America, this millennial world, this ancient civilization so very different from/THAN Europe but sharing the same biological neccessities weee allllll sharrrrrreeeee yessssss

For example when I go to do my laundry on Monday night, tonight, before going back to work tomorrow I will note again how curiously the tangled complex of that minimal at Lopez Portillo and Boulevard Industrial resembles some kind of Mesoamerican complex of buildings, with all its passageways and stairway steps and cement pillars and

But I am confusing human biological architecture, dictated by the reality of our bodies, with architectural history. I am confusing, yes.

Too bad.

Still, one day I shall make a video, God willing and the creek don't rise, of just a camera wandering through that minimal. There is also a gambling salon there, or as they call them here, a "sports book" -- part and parcel of the empire of Caliente and the man who is running for municipal president. Ramon is more than a little in love with him. His friends are astounded. But the devil you know is better than

The men who murdered his nephew.

At least

Saturday we just slept in and then lay around the house, mostly, took naps. I went out for a walk after cooking breakfast around eleven a.m. Then another nap, and we went next door in the evening to carry back a table Tere's friends offered her. It sits in our kitchen now, holding the little two-burner stove I bought several weeks ago to tide us over until we buy a real range with oven, at which point the table will go into my office to support this computer where I am typing this file right now imagining you somewhere else reading yes.

Tere's friends two houses beyond next door were all smiling when we stopped by to pick up the table - a sweet pair of ladies they - the three of them came west together ten years ago from Nuevo Laredo and lived together for many years until I came along to steal her away from them heh but that is definitely making a long story short and yes that's who she went drinking with the other night when she came back and bitched at me about smoking and I just went into my office and shut the door and decided the honeymoon was over. I was wrong, as it turns out, but maybe that's only because I ain't smoking around her any more heh.

I did go out for a walk on Saturday, all along the boulevard de Bellas Artes, looking into the little shops and stores and offices clustered around the heart of Nueva Tijuana before I finally climbed up into one of the computer cafes and tinkered a bit with my index pages in development for the next level

The traffic was howling and everyone was out shopping and

once again I saw what a unique and wonderful neighborhood Otay is this nueva Tijuana with its central corner with the weird twin-T concrete sculpture where all the busses and taxis rub shoulders and the half-abandoned produce market surrounded by traditional little stores built in ugly old cement oh my God it is so very very Mexican and yet so very very frontier I am not sure how to classify it or categorize it except it feels a thousand percent more real than revolution avenue yes no there are none of the luxury shops or screaming terrace nightclubs here

just hundreds of real people doing their real thing

only three or four blocks walk from our little house upstairs

That is one thing that is the same: I still have to climb up the stairs to get to our house where I sit typing and writing

yes

So much to do so much to write so much to read. Three day weekends are rare and I am delighted to have another one right now. Happy Birthday U.S.A.!

Sunday we went to the fair again, although I was a little wary of heading off on any expedition while I have this cold or whatever it is but we got the free tickets last week and I promised Tere we would go to see the fireworks and there we are.

We wandered all over looking at miracle knives and car mop squeegees and she tolerated my fascination with the torture machines on the ride & game midway fun zone lifting folding separating whirling around and around back and forth and upside down eeeeeee aaaaaaaaaaaaa YYYYYYYYYYAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

we went out beyond the farm zone to watch the fireworks and they literally were shooting off right next door and exploding straight up over our heads and the flaming ashes were raining down around us and the children ran around grasping as bits of burnt cardboard and laughing where is the fire where was the fire did you see that it almost set us on fire I got ashes in my eye Mommy

Bet they don't do that next year....

The traffic control was ridiculously asinine and non existent we had to wait two hours in the parking lot I AM NOT KIDDING I heard some guy growling at the attendant I'M GONNA WRITE MY CONGRESSMAN heh eh yeah right buddy go ahead write but I bet you don't even know who the 22nd Agricultural District is or why they just don't give a damn about cars crowding into the crowded parking lot they give away free tickets to get you here and now who cares how long it takes to get out yeah spend all your money and then Just TRY to go Home HEH HA ha hahahahahahah shut up Dani you arrogant SOB

I saw David's picture in the paper and am certain he was the one I met in Juarez who said he would like to hear or read some of my poetry and I never followed up I am thinking I should write him now and send a couple chapbooks but of course the man is toooo busy he would never have time but still I want him to know how flattered I was and am that he would say he wanted to read so this is for you Mr. Stwrt:

Oh man I just loveeeeeeee the manipulation of text into blocks and columns and lines and

the placement of empty spaces between

these infamous

l a c u n a e

border lagoon

eh?

eh

And then there came today, the Monday I do NOT have to work and Tere goes off to her office after I made us French toast for breakfast and we had another bit of a fight over whether I was too sick or not to cook and she kept trying to let me sleep I am not sure which is more aggravating my arrogance at thinking I always know best or her simple straightforward domination of the house under the rule of woman oh my God I am such a solitary loner it is very hard for me to surrender but

then she kisses me and tells me how much she

and then she went away and I have the whole day alone no work to rush off too it is an American holiday over there across the line and so I can just sit around the house and write and write and rewrite and rewrite and tinker with tjmaptext some more without erasing the A NAME = href jump-to markers which/that delimit and delineate the various links from all over my known and very small universe of pages

no apo strophe re member

okei bai         okay bye