IT IS 4PM. It find myself at Thornes, the amount of populace, particularly lesbians is overwhelming. Today I woke up in excellent spirits. I went with Michal for a stroll in the
dear streets of Northamton. I bought a long playing. Mingus, "Immortal Sessions 1959". I
saw Julia who said hi, Gelpi the alcoholic Smith College professor whom I evaded, and Maura, to whom was given an unfriendly gesture.
I feel weird, perhaps for the fasting. The populace continues moving restless. A strange looking dude has sat in the opposite chair. Has told me that he wants to watch a Martin Luther King,
movie, but I was not being shown. I take a look at the flyer, is on the 14. As I told him, decides to return the flyer where he founded it. I better go all these crowding asphyxiates me.
I took M to work. Went home and listened to some records. Today I received some: Wagner,
Strauss, and Dvorak. I sent some letters to Gary Dibble, Luisa and Carmen Z. I have felt weird again. Today while observing some photographs from Carmen R, Karen Moreno, Luisa and Martha Jean Deveber I felt some intense guilt feeling.
Guilty because things did not work out as they may have, as in those moments of frustration I would have preferred them to develop. I forget that shit happens and I can not change what has become a remote distant past. Today at work I noticed the new schedule. Now I will have to sleep by myself. This will create some difficulties. M fills my mornings of contentness and offers me some tea or coffee or breakfast. This new journal is a pain in the ass. The pages are too wide. On the radio some jazz without head or feet. I am going to read.
Next day. I was difficult to fall asleep. After returning from work I was awaken by the noise
of the little bastards upstairs. I encounter the Polish folks, Marge and Stanley. He smokes
italian cigarettes that stunk the whole house. His wife with dirty hair and greasy. When I think of their child, Jim it makes me uneasy. A guy 6' 5", carrying 350 pounds of weight.
Great difficulty to sleep at work, one never knows what to expect from these piggies. AT
4:30 AM, I placed the sheet and pillow in the porch and later at six, when getting ready to
go back home the first was by the car and the other in the driveway. The wind had blown them.
The telephone woke me up. An interview, which has made the day more promising. M
was unable to sleep last night and is feeling cranky. I dreamt that I had some carnal exchanges with a cousin and memories of a good friend from my days in Germany returned.
Some carnal exchange with arrivals last night.
The red conga drum is almost ready. I see what I can do to fix the blue one. I think I will buy some bond to fix the edges today.
3PM. Went shopping with M. I got the bond in my last attempt to save the blue one. The smell, color, mix, everything brought great memories from childhood. My father an autorepairman, was into his thing while I was watching close by.
This was years after the tin epoch. Then this soft metal bars were used to repair dents in auto
bodies. The gasoline bronze torche was lit, making a
sound that for a child, was pretty much like listening to a dragon exhaling flames.
The invention of bond, reduced the time required for repairs but contrary to tin, it cracked and was affected by corrosion after some time and weather exposure. Tin craftsmen into auto repairs where real artists. Their work was everlasting . To become a master, you had to practice for many years. The last time I watched my dad, working such technique was during the sixties. Shortly before he had two heart strokes. I was 15.
While I write this listening to Cesarea Evora, from Cape Verde, I wonder what is the the point of life. Living for what? To impregnate women, have families, following rules, doing what is expected from our parents? Society?
BACK TO THE STUDIO
Its one twenty am. It rains as in the tropics. ( All those years exiled I missed that sound so dearly! Not the people, not at all, just the topography, geography, the environment. Half
a life in USA..) I tried to open the storm window to get a better sound of the rain drops, without luck. However paying some attention it sounds better. Today I took M to work.
Later did some weight lifting. Between one routine and other I sanded the border of the blue
drum. It is almost perfect.
I will check to see if I can buy a leather head to mount it or fix the broken rim.
Time to go..until next. We are in the eighties or so..Northampton MA, capital of the lesbian
scene in the north east coast of USA.