In Vino Veritas

There are mornings when I say to myself:
"Self. Now may be the time to cool it a little with the Cheap Red Wine."
And I readily agree
and I feel righteous and saintly all day
till about four in the afternoon when I decide that it will be just as valid
to start the cool-out period
tomorrow.

What A Wonderful And Weird World

I am sitting here in Mexico
writing my post in English
remembering a time as a young person in Denmark
where I found a little book of Japanese haiku
translated to German.

This last post-- a short one to be sure--was one of the more difficult ones to write.
Like a Haiku poem with its only 17 syllables for the poet/writer to say all he needs to say, I tried to convey my feelings of aloneness in the gray area between dreams and reality in as few words as possible.
I hope I succeeded.

My Moment

There is a moment in the morning when my dreams fade and reality is still like an out of focus television screen.
At that moment I feel so deeply alone.
Eventually the screen clears and that moment of loneliness passes
till the next time.

Igor's decorating hints.

Following the advice of Igor ( see post March 23rd ) , I set out to find palms to soften the view of the monster mast, but being inherently frugal, and living in the jungle with easy access to palms from seedlings to full grown, massive plants, I decided to dig some myself.
Armed with my shovel I searched out likely subjects and started digging. And digging.
The blasted palms have root systems that defy regular digging out.
After many disasters, many buckets of sweat and even more blisters, the end result was one medium palm and two mini ones.
Mind you, these are the palms that grow like weeds in the jungle, right around my house.
I look at my pitiful result and think that maybe, just maybe, I have to admit defeat and get me to a nursery.
Good thing I decided against the chintz.

Chinese Laundry

Albin's son Mads is going to China.
Albin told me in an email, and what a wondrous experience it must be to spend four months in place like China.
And speaking of China made me remember the Chinese Laundry we used when we lived in New York.
It was located on 17th street, round the corner from the building on Park Avenue South that First Chamber Dance Company shared with the restaurant Max's Kansas City, a hang-out for Andy Warhol and his crowd.
In those days there were no coin operated laundries in the neighborhood, and we most certainly did not have laundry facilities in the basement.
The basement had an enormous monster of an oil heater providing heat to the whole building, which was shut off when Max's closed down in the early hours of the morning. And then turned on by me when I took the Schnauzers out for their morning pit stop.
But no other laundry opportunity than the Chinese on 17th.
It was run by a family, and only the youngest spoke any English a tall, which became a problem when I forgot to collect my laundry before an extended tour and, when I returned, realized that I did not have the ticket and I most certainly did not have the laundry, sheets and such like.
It was difficult to explain my problem, but with the help of a lot of gestures and an honest face and a copy of whatever mysterious sign they had labeled on my sheets with permanent ink, I got my laundry back.
I am glad I was young when I lived in New York.

My post [mast]

They left.
The last of the imported workers from Mexico City, the second group, packed their car and left today, this afternoon.
The cell post is all mine now.
And such a post.
It is way bigger and way more intrusive than I was let to believe.
But there it is, looming over my house in the woods.
In the movie Young Frankenstein, Igor exclaims when Hr. Frankenstein despairs over the state of the castle when he first sees it
Oh I don't know. A few potted plants and some chintz.......
Maybe this is the way to approach it.
A few potted plants and some bright paint and ...voila.
It couldn't be worse than the Pepto Bismol color of my post office