slow blog, no blog

Waverly Fitzgerald is hot for her new blog, but this one is about dead. Go to her blog with a new flower every day and breath inspiration. God bless.

http://livinginseason.blogspot.com/

Lizard Life

Hot here, 98 degrees. Lizard Life. Slow. Slow walk, slow talk, slow think, no think.

Horse in a pasture, just standing there. Or cows, cow-eyed, big, beautiful empty brown cow eyes. That was this morning, and I bought home-grown tomatoes at the farmstand -- fabulous juicy taste.

I took photos of the old refinery out by the Wilson County line, rusty pipes and cracking towers, weeds, broken gates. Lazarus Energy (real name) bought the old refinery and plans to fire it up -- news story. I wrote it.

Now I'm at the coffee shop in San Antonio, on the black couch, It's quiet here. Ceiling fan. Two damsels on their black couches with their laptops.

I can't tell that story

I just deleted a post I wrote about a friend of mine -- an old man who lives in the Veteran's Home near here -- I visit him now and then, but he's not fully competent, which means I can't tell his story even though I know he would like it if I did. I would have to ask his son. Since the story involves a conflict between the old man and his son, this could be dicey -- but I will ask. If the son says no, then I can't tell the story.

My ex-wife

My ex-wife was really mad at me for writing something about her two months ago. She called me up and cursed at me. I didn't hear from her for several weeks, but then she called again, very nicely, and said don't write anything about her anymore.

I have two responses to that. One, is that I can hardly tell my story without her being in it, and two -- the thing I wrote about her is by far the single thing that would most embarrass her -- so the worst is over. What I wrote about was the one secret of hers that I still kept, and I felt like I didn't need to keep it anymore. Nothing else I know about her is a secret, so I think it's okay.

However, a pseudonym might be a good thing at this point. The best one is the "African Woman," or else "Betty" or "Elizabeth."

I miss her a lot. People, including myself, thought I was crazy to marry her. She ruined my life, cost me all my money -- but she was so incredibly beautiful, so very, very beautiful, I just couldn't help it -- she could talk me into anything.

I love you

Words uttered at the Museum of Fine Art in Boston in October, 1990, sitting with her on a bench, facing a very large painting by Renoir, of a European woman swirling in a Japanese kimono -- I think that was the painting. It would be nice to be in love again -- which doesn't happen that often, as Aurielle reminds me.

Okay, then how about a fling?

this cafe

I keep coming to this cafe, at the corner of Beauregard and South Alamo. It's a little bit precious, but there is the one seat by the front window and under the ceiling fan -- that's my seat. Except she -- the sweet young thing -- is occupying it, so tonight I have the second best seat. Speaking of sweet young things, Holly left the newspaper today, going someplace else -- pretty darn near the most beautiful woman in Texas, nice too, fun. I'm glad she left -- she was frustrated and bored.

Last night I talked with Joe Lopez, the artist who operates La Gallista gallery. Joe calls himself "el puro gallo" -- number one rooster, cock of the walk. Maybe he was a tough guy long back. not now. I took his photo for the newspaper, and photos of his paintings -- and photos of a painting by Celestine Hinojosa, who I spoke to on the phone. I loved talking to her -- she is very beautiful. Her painting was called "nicho de la cruz azul." This is an Hispanic gallery. Maybe I can meet Celestina, such a nice name. Joe is my friend now. He has told me a lot of things about his life, his family, and where he grew up. His gallery is ten blocks from here, on South Flores Street -- in a different neighborbood.

This neighborhood -- a little too precious, fey, yuppie, hip -- but not expensive, nothing in San Antonio is expensive, and it was easy to park, and the soft evening breeze and light music, sweet gardens, slow walkers, fragrance.

Joe's neighborhood is five block past the edge of gentrification, in the vast all- Mexican south side of San Antonio. Vato Loco!

at the ball game

Humongous jets flying over -- dark gray jets, giantic -- taking off from Kelly Air Force Base, near the ball bark. Quiet skies, cool breezes, 4,773 fans, Missions are losing 1-3 to the Tulsa Drillers, which will bring their season record to 20-31 -- and a firm grip on last place.

These are the San Antonio Missions. Fernando Valenzuela played here in 1980. Brooks Robinson played here in the 1950s. Joe Morgan too.

It's a nice park. I like this seat in the press box, looking over my laptop on to home plate.

It rained today. My brother called me from California. He's trying to teach summer school this year, but I told him I hope he gets the summer off. I pointed out all the wonderful things he could do all summer long, since he is now living at my sister's house only ten minutes walk to the beach in Venice. That would be sweet -- a summer on the beach. Although being here all summer at the ball game a couple of times each week -- that's pretty good.

More rain

It rained twice this week. The rain today was sweet and gentle. It lasted for hours. This is so much better. I have been tending the roses in the courthouse square and they have begun to bloom.

I'm in San Antonio, back at this cafe where I can write this blog. I'm going to the baseball game in five minutes.

Scientists discovered news species of animals in an undergound cave in Israel which had been sealed off from any moisture or nutrients coming from above the ground -- sealed off for millions of years..... The scientists found a black, warm cave universe -- Whatever creatures live there -- maybe we should tell them about religion and technology and war -- sort of a share thing.