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July 2001
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Tijuana Gringo | |
Daniel's Journal | by Daniel Charles Thomas |
5 November 2001. Monday. |
A long line of thunderstorms moved across the city last night from southeast to northwest. Lightning began flickering five, six miles away when I first saw it. Came close and closer over the course of half and hour and an hour, until finally blasting within half a mile, upon the hills beyond the edge of downtown Tijuana. Rain poured down and the dogs begged shelter within my room. I let them in.
Tere and I had met earlier, to eat and walk. It wasn't raining. The arch on Revolución has been topped off, and stands eerily quiet, surrounded by a ghost town. Sunday night, usually a quieter night for the craziest street in the world, but now more than ever. The street has been shut down to traffic for months now while the great arch, fifteen stories tall, has been slowly raised piece by piece by cranes and little men crawling overhead welding, welding, welding....
Tere went home around ten last night, just in time to miss the worst of the storms, I hope. They came later. Eleven. Twelve.
I dreamt this morning that two children stand beside me while I write. I was sitting down on grass. The children were very young -- two and three, or four, not much more, and they loved and protected me. Mmmm. Reminds me of when my son was that young, such devotion. I wonder what parts of my psyche they represent? Perhaps because at dinner Tere told me she still has periods and the old reproductive charm and bewitching desire is kicking into gear, even now. Especially now that I love her more and more and....
Late. Early afternoon. I return from a walk in the park. Wrote a little poem while I walked.
birds perch on power linesMorning Exercize
downtown arch peeks over roofsdog in park sniffs wet
grass from last night rainmuchachos on way to school pass
police eating breakfastbrown uniforms all in a row .
Later. Five P.M. Darkening. Autumn.The workers here have been working outside for weeks and weeks now. Painting and fixing up the outside of the building, remodeling several apartments. Today they are scraping the metal railings all around the balcony terraces that face down onto the parking lot. They'll be painting them soon. I must remember then not to touch the stairway rails as I go up and down the stairs from Rudi's restaurant up to the apartments.
Sometimes I get very tired of writing so sloppy. You can't see it of course, by the time it gets to you, here, it's all typed up and nice. But take my word for it. I write fast and scribbly. Good thing I'm not a drinker or druguser or no one could read anything -- certainly not me either.
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