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Calendars: All : September : August

Tijuana Gringo

Friday, 22 September 2000

Nina Moreno gave me permission yesterday to use her computer during the hours when her administrator, Adriana, is in the gallery. This will help me save money, since I can do my re-writing (from hand-written drafts) and prepare these diary entries as html files. I DO ALL MY CODING MYSELF (To Hire Me For Your Page(s): write me at thomas@masinternet.zzn.com). Then, when I go to the computer cafe to upload (Nina has no internet connection, alas), I will only be spending the 40 pesos an hour on neccesary email and file transfer tasks.

People are starting to ask me if Maria and I are... well, you know. Sometimes I say no, not yet; sometimes I say no not yet. It's all in the pause for the comma, you know. No? Not yet? Let me put it this way: I won't worry about pesos per hour here, oh no! We go out to dinner and sit for hours, talking and talking over salad, and then coffee after....

Oldies rock on the laundramat luncheonette radio. Doors' Light my fire. But is it the long version? No. I finish my breakfast of scrambled eggs, salad, and tortillas. Love eating here. Good food, with coffee, for only 25 pesos. Except by the time you get here it may be thirty. Such is life and inflation, eh?

Go move the clothes from washer to dryer. Come back and write some more. You don't know this, but this is really yesterday. Today I am rewriting at the computer.

No more writing? Have another cup of instant coffee and chat with Brian in the lavamatica loncheria. He's very apologetic that they didn't have beans yes-today to accompany my breakfast.


Afternoon: I'm typing on Nina's computer. This time for real it is today. But not when you read this. Well, then, too, but now, more. Ah, time. I've done the beginning in August, formatted a calendar, and now skip ahead to today. But I'm gonna quit. After two hours I'm a little burned.

Nina comes into the back room where her computer is. Watches me type away. "Ah, you really can write, eh?"

I laugh, "But yes!" ("Pero si!")

Her administrator pops in, nodding, "Not like so many others who say they are writers, or that they want to be writers, but... they don't write."

"Ah," I say, shaking my head, "You know what they are, then? (Saben que son ellos entonces?) Conceptual writers, eh?" We laugh. Dear reader: Art is not always easy. And even if I do write and write, I swear to you, (te lo juro) that I know a lot of my work is, well, garbage (basura). The trick is to No Tire Basura -- Don't Throw Trash -- only post something I have some regard for... and this means you are NOT seeing All.

It's time to go. As I save & close files, then shut down the machine, Nina and Adriana remind me: "You are coming back tonight for our student exhibition?"

"Of course."

But even as I leave I know I'll get there late, since I want to cook an early dinner and then take a nap. What I don't know is how very, very late it will be when I wake up, and then....

Oh yes, it will be late, and then later, and then latest of all....


After midnight with the art students:

.

en la ballena
bailando

cantina

in the whale
@ 03:33 a.m.

con/with

los artistas
dancing

toman cerveza

tequila

y cigarros

de cual


time
la hora

of what
ofrece
offers

.

la barra
sala de
room of
the bar

ya
sillas
chairs
now

profesa
y mesas
and tables
shows

.

la cantina dice

welcome
drink

bienvenidos,

toma

.

Todavia está

joven

la madrugada.

The after-

midnight

is still young.

.

03:53 that

increible

hora

unbelievable

hour

.

not yet four

when they

shuffle to

their seats

seven beers

14 tequilas

and 20 dances

later


the norteño


still rolls

todavia rueda

el norteño

que llegan las quatro horas
that four o'clock arrives

y todos sentados

piensen de dormir
and everyone sits

thinking of sleep.


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Copyright 2000 Danchar Thomas
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