I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


Comments Welcome!

Friday, April 8, 2022

Posada Concepcion Baja

 

April 8, 1979  (I was 34)

 

    Posada Concepcion Baja

¿Quién es número uno en la palapa?

Is this my drink or is it yours?

The Mexicans here are still unmanageable

They sell camarones for the most they can get

even if you row to their boats on the point

and even to the gringos permanente

who live here five months of the year

Those gringos hate the turistas who pay top dollar

Tecate tastes foreign they say

but Carta Blanca’s almost as good as Oly

The buzzards eat gutted fish at the end of the playa

They don’t share vey well

Who’s number one under the palapa?

Those my shrimp or yours we’re pickin’ clean?

I’m only here for awhile, and I’m eatin’ while I can

I pay what they ask then ride the bus

So call me copilote or zopilote I don’t care 

                           (copilote=copilot; zopilote=buzzard)

 

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