Need to call Maria. Promised I'd call her. I've been resisting her desire to see me every day, but... the pleasant thing is then I miss her. Yes, I miss her when I don't see her. Decided last week I should tell her we should only see each other every other day. I'm very fond of her but am afraid of another relationship like I had with the ex, la furiosa, Lynne.
The Tenientes of Tijuana are leaving for a trip down to San Quintin today. Their bus is parked downstairs in Agustin's parking lot. He rents them one of his upstairs apartments for a rehearsal studio. They are the official police department band -- but not horns and drums, they play guitars and keyboard and specialize in singing... like seven men's voices, and sometimes one or two women.
Went to buy water at 4th and H yesterday and saw a for rent sign. Asked to see the place. After the way Agustin's been yelling at me it's tempting me to leave. But this was an old, dark, bent little house whose rent went up fifty dollars between the front gate sign and the woman who saw who I was (whom I was?) gringo, and quoted me a suddenly higher price. Good heavens doesn't she think I read the sign out front? A tiny place with tiny rooms and neighbor's walls up against its walls, barely room to squeeze out the back door, like being stuck four in the back seat of a sardine taxi. Two fifty plus I'd have to pay for gas and electricity and water. Come on!
Forget that. I'll stay with Agustin and let him yell at me.
A friend of his confides in me: es que el es celoso. It's just that he's jealous, Miguel. He treats everyone like that, no? Yes; that's why I don't mind it TOO much. (Liar.) Yes, especially when he's been drinking, no? Yes, and I think that's why people hate him and he doesn't like that. Oh, no, Miguel, he's not angry because people hate him, he's angry because people don't love him... there's a difference, no?
I am stunned to silence by the little revelation and it's subtle truth of difference. Truth sets me free to write it here. Shortly I will go to the park to read in the trees on a bench, and maybe to the library.
I learned day-before-yesterday that I sold a story to the Reader in San Diego. That will keep me eating for a few more weeks. If only every day could bring me such fortune.