I DREAMT THAT I WAS HAPPY

LAST NIGHT, while asleep, what is written on the tittle took place. Had it had been otherwise it would have been, 'while dreaming awake'. This guy was
serving a drink putting ten times the amount of sugar/salt in it. As I told
him, (in the dream), of his measuring stupidity, he inquired: " Are you not
afraid of waking up to find that you are no longer happy"?

Well, not really. It is better to feel some sort of happiness for one minute, even when asleep, than waking up, opening my eyes and leaving the house. Cracked, uneven, dirty, noisy, streets, sidewalks,
graffiti smeared abandoned buildings, bums, junkies and so on and so forth. Mutilated trees, architecture barriers, cars parked on the sidewalks, garbage, traffic
jams, cars parked in every imaginable space. This is a nightmare. Puerto Ruido. Why did I come back to this?

But all is not lost. Yesterday, Eliezer, a pal from Savarona, from twenty years ago, or is it thirty, sent an email, a year after I gave him
my address, to have a couple. This guy is a mechanic, often smelling of
grease, was an adequate basketball player, some insight, great sense of
humor and a strange raspy voice. Dark as the night with a great smile.
One of the few, perhaps two people from the past who has made the effort
to reconnect.

It is still disconcerting the lazyness of most people to keep some friendship, distant or not. Even with emails. I have this other friend,
a guy looking pretty much as James Stewart with glasses, similar demeanor in those movies he was a lawyer..

Martin Anderson, I will call him. A civil court interpreter in Manhattan
where I used to work in the same capacity. His wife is of the oriental persuasion, China to be exact. She works in the textile industry and recently, both made a trip to the mainland and Hong Kong, that gambling, and financial meca.

I noticed that Martin in his messages only mentioned anecdotes about interpreters
he disliked or could not tolerate. Ingrid Caronia, a fat, Mr. Peanuts,
or the Michelin guy/gal, kind of morbid obese shape, who was caught in the elevator video camaras of the Civil Court in Manhattan, with the purse of another employee or theft. Instead of firing this so so interpreter, thanks to the union and all that bureaucratic crap, the thief is still working with no firing in sight. In the CIVIL COURT, believe it or not.

The other pain in the ass, with the looks of a Pakistani or Freddy Fender,
the late Tex-Mex bilingual ranchero style singer; is Pedro whatever I forgot his last name. Of early Puertorican heritage, he speaks Spanish pretty well and English as his mother tongue. The problem with this Pedro, is that never understood the CODE of ETHICS of the interpreter.

You are not a social worker, one is not supossed to advocate for the populace in court for not paying the rent, living in apartments without
the lease, or destroying, making partitions in the rented property, or if there are repairs to be made. These
are the main issues interpreters deal day to day; besides customer services regarding court orders and filing necessary documents to
avoid monetary judgements and eviction notices.

Landlord lawyers, judges, court lawyers had a dislike for him because of his constant advocacy, complicating the whole process for everyone always asuming the tennant was the victim.
Where was I? O got it...Martin Anderson.

I got to visit Martin Anderson on his nice Staten Island residence. Had more than a couple of fine beers and single malts, listened to some LP's on
his stereo, had some exquisite Chinese gastronomy at home and innumerable conversations at work, after work and so on.

When I returned to Puerto Rico, the communication lasted for some time.
It made sense since it was not a one track, meaningless sending of NAJIT communications or silly jokes as in a chain letter sent from one to another. We wrote about plants, horticulture, music, politics and other issues.

What is my beef? After I started writing the siamese blog to this one and
got a little confidence, not of my writing, but of the subject matter, I sent
the link about ten times. Without any response or mention of it. Until one day I got really irate at the indifference and inquired with the required bluntness of the situation...

The response of Martin, the so much appreciated friend? OH, I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE! Believe it or not.. That was the response
of a great person, excellent translator of the COMMUNIST persuassion, a fanatic book worm, reading ten books a week,
translator of some book, perhaps the first, about some CUBAN-CHINESE
Commander in the Angolan War during the fight for independence.

I read the book and gave my opinion...But Martin that old chap, never
had the chance, to read one of this humble blogs and offer some feedback.
Good or Bad. It that too much to ask?

Since apparently, over two thousand six hundred people have check
them out, it does not matter. Screw you Martin. Hugs and kisses for
the old times when you could relate and write besides chain letters, lame jokes and emails from NAJIT.