MEXICO I

Providence Athenaeum 1972 or so (from Alain Resnais' Providence)

Chapultepec: Famous groves of hoary cypresses
"And the dark came swirling down across his eyes"
(Strange dread before leaving.)




In airplane, standing in aisle, waiting for bathroom, I see a woman in a window seat (typing near-slip: a window in a woman seat) a middle-aged woman in a window seat is sitting with her eyes closed. She is holding a torn page from a magazine against her chest, so that the top edge of the paper reaches the base of her neck. The page is an advertisement from the American Airlines in-flight magazine, depicting a gold necklace— a large pendant hangs in the middle of the page, with lengths of gold chain extending to the two corners at the top of the page. Held against her chest in this manner, an idiot or an animal might think the woman actually owned such an extravagant object.




Earlier: A window seeded in the woman, a woman seated in the window seat next to me was reading the biography of Peter Jennings. Something about her appearance made me think that she, too, was a professional newscaster—maybe for a small local station. Covertly, acutely peering, I noticed one chapter titled "Going It Alone," presumedly about Peter Jennings' switch from news-team membership to solo-anchorship. (anchor ship)-- I wondered if the woman seated next to me had the strength to go it alone.





Two easy solutions:
1) Turn it up
2) Disinfectant

Ate a menu del dia at a capriciously chosen comidor in Doctores, "Restaurante de La Luz de las Artistes." After a mildly enjoyable meal under these artists' light I experienced mild postprandial panic (due to consumption of questionable sweetstuffs), and was set off at a brisk pace in search of a sanitizing glass of mezcal. It being Monday, not much was open, and after unexpectedly long search I purchased a small bottle of poor mezcal for 70 cents. Clandestinely I drank from this bottle in the park, listening to the music of the islands on my headphones. I actually refrained from turning it up, having indulged in one easy solution earlier in the hour.




Instead I boarded a microbus and was carried to the entrance of Chapultepec park. I found here mostly disappointment, no famous, hoary cypress groves, or, hoary cypresses I could admire only from afar, from the bottom of the hill, like a common peasant.
By a distant fountain, toga'd Mexican youths reenacted a Greek drama before a handheld video camera. Obviously I felt a certain camaraderie with this display of nostalgic longing.

RB: "provincial intellectuals, or, deeply self-suficient men"



Grafitti by giants, Centro

Walking to the Sevilla metro station this morning, feeling quite good due to the music of the islands, abundant sunshine, the fantasized adoring gaze of four American female college students ("que guapo eso"), and the state of having one's laundry being done by someone else at that very moment, I almost walked underneath a ladder propped against a wall glistening with a fresh coat of yellow paint. I felt that if drips of this yellow paint were to fall on my corduroy jacket, I would simply continue on my way, resigned to and perhaps pleased with these problematic drops, my sticky flourish.
(blue tlacoyos ... despite pretensions and shameless malleability... "un juego de poder" -- sagt man wirklich das? ... enjoyed the sexual energy of the room ... some of the only sexual creatures who truly value intellect ... good crew/ 3 brazilians, 2 argentinians making up for the obligatory australian ... teotihuacan easy warmth ... heavy sun ...  otherwise detestable activities made potable by ...)





Walked around UNAM like a visiting professor. Saw next to nothing.