Maspalomas February 2, 2011 8:34 a.m. GMT
I have yet to venture outside where the sun shines bright and the palms bend under the blustery winds.
Christopher Rice’s first novel, A Density of Souls, was read which kept me awake to the wee hours. This fact speaks volumes. Rice’s novel was a story of secrets. It is well-told. I recommend it.
Yesterday, René and I went, in the late morning, and had coffee at Henry and Wilber’s bungalow. Wilber regaled us with his British humor.
At night, we went to the Faro2 with Henry and Wilber and had dinner. We then sat at the Villas Blancas Bistro and had a coffee. Again, Wilber charmed us with his tales of life and lust.
Gracious, the wind outside is worthy of being a storm. I do hope I can sit in the sun and read and scribble. Will a blanket be required?
Oh, yesterday, René and I went on a quick jaunt to the Maspalomas Botanical Garden. What that garden could use is a bit of humor and more benches. By humor, I mean surprises — either a very striking specimen or a sculptured element at various corners where its paths wind. This would evoke wide grins, or, emit sounds of approval from the wanderers who happen to discover this little oasis. Benches, too, would help those of us who like to sit and gaze at flora.
Now, I shall go sit in the sun, sip tea, and watch the windless blue sky and bending palms here on Earth.
Maspalomas February 3, 2011 8:40 a.m. GMT
When René and I hiked in the dunes yesterday, it was as if we were in a desert. A desert by an ocean. A desert with shrubs. In other words, we may have been on sand dunes, we were not in a desert. Imagination can place one anywhere one wishes.
The “desert” we were in was inhabited by naked men. That was reality — not imagined. René and I were about the only ones with our clothes on. And, we didn’t feel weird. These days, it would take I don’t know what for us to feel “weird”. We are what we are — us. A simple duo.
René got up early this morning. The two of us sat by the pool and had a cup of tea. It was a pleasure for me to have company in the morning.
Last night, I began to read aloud Clayton Littlewood’s Dirty White Boy - Tales of Soho to René (who else?). Dirty White Boy is the name of his, Clayton’s designer clothing shop in London’s Soho. I read the first sixteen pages which was August 2006. Clayton complained about Black gangs stealing items from his store. However, he didn’t infer that the name of his store, Dirty White Boy, may have been the impetus for these gangs’ “attacks”. As I said, I have only read sixteen pages.
Most of today’s sky has no clouds. Why is it that the few clouds in the sky cover the sun? This peekaboo with sunlight is chilling. Warm, whether there is sun or not, but, chilling. Being chilled is better than cold.
Maspalomas February 4, 2011 7:28 a.m. GMT
Carol Channing is going to celebrate her ninetieth birthday this month. Ninety. Carol Channing. Wow! I guess eating all that health food paid off for Carol. I recall her taking a thermos of this-and-that to a State Dinner at the LBJ White House and the publicity she received for her audacity. Well, she is still around to get publicity. How grand is that?
Publicity is a strange beast and that is the only “publicity” I shall give Public Relations.
I am in my corner chair, poolside, at Villas Blancas. John and Cesar [caretakers] are chatting, whispering, in front of me. Whispering is something we all do here in the morning. The residents must not awaken until they wake up naturally. Sleep must not be denied.
I am chomping at the bit to finish JWG’s Miniscule Past. I am working on the Introduction and final page/poem. As I have said, in the past, introductions and final thoughts are difficult. I believe I will be pleased with my results.
Thoughts, themselves, seem to be difficult for me. I am too relaxed here on Gran Canaria. I read. I fill my head with new imagery. I can be catatonic staring at the Palms on the ridge.
The first sentence of the above paragraph is wrong. Totally wrong. My thoughts are strong. Making the choice of what to put on paper is what I deliberate. Am I being my usual silly self? Yes! I am laughing as I gaze at the reflections in this pool. Water. Always water. Where would I be without water?