.:wanderlustmedia+dot+org:.

…another jacksone browne song surfaced in my consciousness- first heard it sung by bonnie raitt- ‘opening

farewell’ i believe it’s calld- got some lines that go, ‘there’s a train/every day/going either way/there’s a

road you know/there’s a way to go…’ then marel malaret tells me jackson’s moved to barcelona!
…but we’re never gonna survive/unless/we go a little crazy-seal’s first hit was my theme song in ‘85, &

still… (a motion of return, an abundance recovered…) th moment i feel th stiff northerly blowing head-on

as i reach th barceloneta beach (that’s th barcelona, not th puerto rico, barceloneta) i know what i’ve bn

missing & avoiding, what i’ve bn craving & denying mself @ one & th same time: my inner mommmy as

overprotective as my flesh & blood one was, if not more so under certain emotional circumstances…th voice

that kept insisting every day, as i got back to my room from sitting in front of th computer screen or after a

big, late lunch, all thru th week- ‘it’s too late, it’s too dark, it’s too cold already, you should’ve bn ready

an hour- @ th very least, a half hour- ago…’
* but that’s precisely it! it’s soothingly late, it’s wonderfully windy, it’s magically dark along th

boardwalks leading away from th bustle of th ramblas, th port bars & shops…it’s bn six weeks & i hardly make

it past th villa olímpica & its next set of bars, cafés & clubs- including th last surviving planet hollywood

restaurant…in th world?!-before turning back. rebuilding time. thirty-two minutes. my knees are weak, even

after so short a run. but i’m happy happy happy. what a difference… i argue w/ mself, i argue both points of

view: there’s no such thing as a positive addiction- if i couldn’t run, i cd’ve sat zazen, strolled th ramblas

up & down a couple of hours, stretched & did an abs workout on th floor of my little room…there are always

options, there is always @ th very least one alternative to th compulsion… on th other hand, th only thing

that makes something like th routine of running into a compulsion is precisely th conditioned tangle of fear

that locks into a paralysing struggle w th opposing, desired, course of action… back on th ramblas, th

christmas decorations are going up-it’s coming on christmas/they’re cutting down trees they’re putting up

reindeer/singing songs of joy & peace i wish i had a river/i could skate away on…
thank you, joni…thank you all-
dabizzet.j=(8{>

(regresando a casa d mi primo miguel en alcobendas advierto la luna saliendo
entre brumas, distorsionada y deforme, entre fases- y recuerdo cómo hice mi
disciplina d escritura semanal en la playa d vega baja- hebdo.amStrand- sobre
el ‘pie forzado’ temático dl ciclo lunar y el sentido d eterno retorno,
fatalidad, plenitud insignificante q carga para mí- y entonces se murió
‘el tonto d rafael’ según el mismo se autodenominaba en uno d sus primeros
poemarios…lo envío como despedida a barcelona…)
abrazos a todos, dabizzet.j=(8{>

palmo a palmo
entre una noche y su amarga hermana menor
la luna se desinfla:

no ha podido elevar la carga d su plenitud un instante más-
por entregar su sombra al olvido d la sombra
vacía su redondez

por abandonar el horizonte d tierra
por despojar el vientre polvoriento dl levante
se hace lánguida y lenta

cómo encontrar un rumbo
entre curvas columnas negras?
sin un reflejo d cano tiempo trenzado
desde las altas ventanas rotas

la noche es el propio salto d la luna
demasiado amplio para la medida incierta d su fé

el mar es la gran puerta dl ensueño
umbral informe dl reposo más sensual y satisfecho
nos hacemos viejos sobre la ruta
rindiendo la pueril altura dl pedregal
amontonado sobre la meseta
nos hacemos viejos recorriendo el camino dl sol
hacia su origen o destino

(pero nuestra infancia, rafael, sobrevive
como tierna momia q mira inmóvil, sujeta
entre las mugrosas vendas dl tiempo
a través d nuestros ardientes, heridos ojos)

jackson browne keeps ‘running on empty’ ’round my head…
outside my window, neighbor’s canary boids trill & gurgle…
every once in a while, seagulls seem to find their way inland to join their
own cries in…
feeling run-down, low-energy- pushing mself eating a little heavy, game
stews, mushroom crèpes, alcohol…time to lighten up & go to th veggie
place…
also, i haven’t run in nearly six weeks & i miss it- today i’m passing lunch
up hoping i’ll be psyched & running by five-thirty & th twilight hour i love
so much…(to be continued…)
thursday th eleventh…better, but still low on motivation- finally spoke to
fernando anso & he agreed to make a small print of th picture i want for my
webpage & mail it directly to david s. in virginia…he also promisd to try
to get a hold of his friend luis in th next couple of days to see if scanning
th big, original print is still an option…(luis’ partner, josé ángel, told
me they haven’t yet once used their scanner!)
i’d love to stay in barcelona. i’d love to just be somewhere where i could
cook my veggies, my lentils & squash & bitter greens. i’d love to have th
strength to continue walking th camino. i’d love to gather whoever cares to
find their way to wherever i could host a banquet, every week or two…
i will/find a city/find myself a city to live in…
first we take manhattan/then/we take berlin…
you can’t hurry love/no/you just have to wait…
dabizzet.j=(8{>

i’m gonna find mself a girl/who can show me what laughter means

&we’ll fill in th missing colors/in each other’s paint-by-number

dreams…

give me/a kiss to build a dream on/&my imagination/will make that moment

live…

back in barcino, in a tiny room like th one before, but @ hostal condal,

i

have central heating & a fridge to put my yogurt & pineapple juice

in…had

a

couple of low days roundabout halllowe’en- wanted to party but was

exhausted

from th train trip- even w/ th extra hour from going off daylight savings

time!- also…letting go of th tension of th week in miguel’s

household…gloria is a somewhat loud, somewhat shrill madrileña, on th

edge

(or over it!) of feeling overwhelmed all th time- working on her doctoral

thesis, teaching a couple of classes, raising two kids…miguel must have

had

some scare, gloria was watching what he ate, issuing warnings about

cholesterol- he’s also stoppd smoking, three years ago he chaind ducados

day

& night…i half wish i’d found th occasion to bring it up, comment,

offer positive reinforcement…

there were a few lovely days of mediterranean indian summer over th long

all-saints’ day weekend…sun is peeking back out after a rainy morning

that

kept me under th covers until nearly noon, rubbing my shoulders for

warmth…

& i’m on my way to deutschland! i *need* to run, get my blood flowing out

to

my fingers & toes…feels like my lack of exercise lets my juices gather

&

pool around my belly & groin…internet access is certainly most

expensive

here- even buying a block of time, it’s 800 pesetas an hour, compared to

500

in pamplona, 600 in madrid…blah blah…

found a coffee shop selling & brewing some beans from yauco- got th

roasters’

office number- familia marcilla has bn in th business for generations,

let’s

see if they’re amenable to sharing how th chnnels for importing ‘uva

verde’

into th european community work! i’ve got two possible outlets for

gourmet

caribbean coffee in pamplona: el café d emiliano, who buys from a small

roaster in san sebastián, & maybe fernando anso’s future cafe-bar…

hmmm, am i going into th coffee business like, for real??

stay tuned!

love, dabizzet.j=(8{>

i’m gonna find mself a girl/who can show me what laughter means &we’ll fill in th missing colors/in each

other’s paint-by-number dreams…
give me/a kiss to build a dream on/&my imagination/will make that moment live…
back in barcino, in a tiny room like th one before, but @ hostal condal, i have central heating & a fridge to

put my yogurt & pineapple juice in…had a couple of low days roundabout halllowe’en- wanted to party but was

exhausted from th train trip- even w/ th extra hour from going off daylight savings time!- also…letting go of

th tension of th week in miguel’s household…gloria is a somewhat loud, somewhat shrill madrileña, on th edge

(or over it!) of feeling overwhelmed all th time- working on her doctoral thesis, teaching a couple of classes,

raising two kids…miguel must have had some scare, gloria was watching what he ate, issuing warnings about

cholesterol- he’s also stoppd smoking, three years ago he chaind ducados day & night…i half wish i’d found th

occasion to bring it up, comment, congratulate him… there were a few lovely days of mediterranean indian

summer over th long all-saints’ day weekend…sun is peeking back out after a rainy morning that kept me under

th covers until nearly noon,rubbing my shoulders for warmth…
& i’m on my way to deutschland! i *need* to run, get my blood flowing out to
my fingers & toes…feels like my lack of exercise lets my juices gather &
pool around my belly & groin…internet access is certainly most expensive
here- even buying a block of time, it’s 800 pesetas an hour, compared to 500
in pamplona, 600 in madrid…blah blah…
found a coffee shop selling & brewing some beans from yauco- got th roasters’
office number- familia marcilla has bn in th business for generations, let’s
see if they’re amenable to sharing how th chnnels for importing ‘uva verde’
into th european community work! i’ve got two possible outlets for gourmet
caribbean coffee in pamplona: el café d emiliano, who buys from a small
roaster in san sebastián, & maybe fernando anso’s future cafe-bar…
hmmm, am i going into th coffee business like, for real??
stay tuned!
love, dabizzet.j=(8{>

…i keep asking mself… found a fancy restaurant specializing in undomesticated animal meat(tho these days,

it seems they mostly raise formerly wild animals, too- rather than actually hunt them. is this better or worse,

i ask myself?)
* name of ‘café viena’. it had some fancy pastries including sacher torte, too, but no linzer torte…well,

couldn’t find it in salzburg, what was i to expect…seems as if outside of linz, th mythical dessert is to be

found only in a couple places in nyc… spent th last two days struggling w/ archaically slow, bottlenecked

servers @ universidad complutense- have bn commuting into town via la universidad every morning w/ my cousin

miguel sobrino blanco from th madrid bedroom community suburb of alcobendas. he’s something of a semiotician,

teaching communication theory & seeking to develop methodology for more correctly reading & analysing

advertising practices scarcely recognised as such- such as point-of-sale product blurbs, store window

displays…also, th burgeoning internet, of course… so i’m back to watching th clock as i write, after

looking over my ‘camino d santiago’ route guide last night in an attempt to check my memory for detail & start

organising some kind of narrative about those most intnse six days… this is th beginning of th road back. it

was a difficult decision, fueled by possibly untrue hearsay, but i’ve ended up not going to galicia, not

visiting la guardia, not checking on th old family house @ all…th rumor was that my uncles may have already

found a buyer & th house is gone, gone, gone…it felt difficult to show up in town after that, uncomfortable

to look for a place to stay & go over th same ol’ plans & illusions i’ve bn talking up for th last four, five

years in response from th same ol’ questions on th part of relatives & acquaintances of every stripe…i’m

especially sorry not to have a chance to see & talk to josé fandiño, who runs th only gym in th village & has

bn unstintingly generous in welcoming me to its facilities whenever i’ve bn in town…or w/ leo álvarez sousa,

who has gone from trekking, oasis to oasis, in his land rover down to senegal or east into algeria, to

travelling as a caritas volunteer to kosovo & is now in th process of producing a cd-rom w/ some o his

photographs & other documents to help w/ fund-raising efforts…or w/ my cousin dr. kiko sobrino, who three

years ago told me he had taken a risk w/ some of his savings to help produce a friend’s film…! i’ll have to

make do w/ a couple of phone calls from now, & hope my plans for next year work out…as it is, i’m on th way

back to barcelona, to paris or pisa on th way to weimar, to wolfenbuttel &/or hamburg on th way to amsterdam, &

nyc on th way to puerto rico…it sure is th long way home form where i’m trying to catch my breath right

now…
love to all,
dabizzet.j=(8{>

es vergonzoso: por qué me cuesta tanto llevar una columna semanal en castellano
paralela a la q llevo más d un año logrando redactar con sorprendente
regularidad y disciplina utilizando ‘el difícil’ shakespeariano?
al grano: mi semana d recuperación en pamplona-iruña se ha convertido en una
gran jornada gastronómica: no bien acabo d enviar mi último resumen d los
hechos- el martes- q el chef-propietario iñaxio me saluda mientras degusto unas
crèpes d marisco en el restaurant-asador q lleva su nombre. encontramos mucho
tema, me confiesa q ese día cumple cincuenta&ocho;, y brindamos con una copa d
cava.
anoche he invitado a fernando anso, a quien conocí el día d cierre d su
café-galería joakín, en puente la reina-garés, a q me acompañara a cenar. le
había confesado a iñaxio q soy un ex-vegetariano y q, quién sabe por qué
reducto atávico d culpabilidad, la caza en su estación es la carne q más
disfruto: pues promete- y cumple espectacularmente- regalarme el paladar con un
ciervo q lleva par d días limpiando y adobando…una velada memorable q
merecería detallar en otra ocasión. hoy regreso a comer, a probar una ‘alubiada
con todos los sacramentos’ q prepara todos los jueves en esta segunda parte dl
otoño. lo difícil para mí van a ser los ’sacramentos’, q incluyen morcilla y
longaniza…
lo q veo repetirse claramente es mi manera d encontrar ‘hogares’ culinarios en
mi vagabundeo o peregrinar. siempre parece haber algo d codependencia en las
relaciones q establezco, las amistades q se traban: repito y rehago núcleos
cuasi-familiares con gente q se entrega a manos llenas y afronta grandes
dificultades al tratar d establecer una vida y espacio privados al margen d su
trabajo, q generalmente incluye pero no logra enteramente abarcar todas sus
grandes pasiones- grandes bebedores, glotonoes exquisitos, fumadores excesivos
d todas las estirpe… personalidades compulsivas, tan generosas como
potencialmente autodestructivas…
bueno, pues me place q cada día me relaciono mejor con esta gente en el plano
común q logramos establecer: aprendiendo a establecer y respetar mis propios
límites, expresándolos claramente…sin ansiedades, manipulaciones ni
recriminaciones- tanto para con los q me rodean como conmigo mismo: ésto para
mí es lograr un poco d balance, recuperación y cordura en esta paradójica,
mágica, insólita vida q he acabado por forjarme- no tan conscientemente como
tal vez me gustaría pretender, pero con cada vez más claridad y sentido d
autoresponsabilidad…abrazzous a todos,
d.sette=(8{>

es vergonzoso: por qué me cuesta tanto llevar una columna semanal en castellano
paralela a la q llevo más d un año logrando redactar con sorprendente
regularidad y disciplina utilizando ‘el difícil’ shakespeariano?
al grano: mi semana d recuperación en pamplona-iruña se ha convertido en una
gran jornada gastronómica: no bien acabo d enviar mi último resumen d los
hechos- el martes- q el chef-propietario iñaxio me saluda mientras degusto unas
crèpes d marisco en el restaurant-asador q lleva su nombre. encontramos mucho
tema, me confiesa q ese día cumple cincuenta&ocho, y brindamos con una copa d
cava.
anoche he invitado a fernando anso, a quien conocí el día d cierre d su
café-galería joakín, en puente la reina-garés, a q me acompañara a cenar. le
había confesado a iñaxio q soy un ex-vegetariano y q, quién sabe por qué
reducto atávico d culpabilidad, la caza en su estación es la carne q más
disfruto: pues promete- y cumple espectacularmente- regalarme el paladar con un
ciervo q lleva par d días limpiando y adobando…una velada memorable q
merecería detallar en otra ocasión. hoy regreso a comer, a probar una ‘alubiada
con todos los sacramentos’ q prepara todos los jueves en esta segunda parte dl
otoño. lo difícil para mí van a ser los ’sacramentos’, q incluyen morcilla y
longaniza…
lo q veo repetirse claramente es mi manera d encontrar ‘hogares’ culinarios en
mi vagabundeo o peregrinar. siempre parece haber algo d codependencia en las
relaciones q establezco, las amistades q se traban: repito y rehago núcleos
cuasi-familiares con gente q se entrega a manos llenas y afronta grandes
dificultades al tratar d establecer una vida y espacio privados al margen d su
trabajo, q generalmente incluye pero no logra enteramente abarcar todas sus
grandes pasiones- grandes bebedores, glotonoes exquisitos, fumadores excesivos
d todas las estirpe… personalidades compulsivas, tan generosas como
potencialmente autodestructivas…
bueno, pues me place q cada día me relaciono mejor con esta gente en el plano
común q logramos establecer: aprendiendo a establecer y respetar mis propios
límites, expresándolos claramente…sin ansiedades, manipulaciones ni
recriminaciones- tanto para con los q me rodean como conmigo mismo: ésto para
mí es lograr un poco d balance, recuperación y cordura en esta paradójica,
mágica, insólita vida q he acabado por forjarme- no tan conscientemente como
tal vez me gustaría pretender, pero con cada vez más claridad y sentido d
autoresponsabilidad…abrazzous a todos,
d.sette=(8{>

-but i ain’t gonna see my baby tonight. got no baby to see. so on th

seventh

day, i rested. pushd it a little too far, too fast- what else is new?

nearly 160 kilometers in that week- from canfranc near somport & th

aragonese

border w/ france to puente la reina-garés in navarra, where el camino

aragonés

joins el camino francés…th nail on my big left toe is on its way off-

tiene

los días contados, even if i’m not doing th counting, my left knee is still

achy after four days inactivity- some sweling, not sure if it’s tendinitis

(tendOnitis?) or bruisd cartilage…i’m not into th heavy macho thing, i

need

to train a little better for whatever follow-up i expect to do…

it’s a grey day in pamplona as i write this & i’m paying for th hemingway

aura-

i actually have th room next door to th one he always took- in th hotel la

perla because i arrived in town after midnight sunday & th hostales had all

lockd their doors. i walkd into café-bar joakín in puente la reina

expecting to

have an early lunch- before two in th aftenoon, in spain- & check th photo

show

on th walls before taking th afternoon bus into th capital- iruña, in

basque-

only to find myself invited to th closing supper that evening by th

owner-chef,

who also had some even nicer black & white prints hung in th rear dining

room-

& these were his own. after a long afternoon of drinking & dice-throwing, i

helpd fernando make a big dish of cous-cous we all dug into w/ spoons…th

man

is working to open his new business here in town sometime before th

christmas

season & i haven’t managed to see him since he droppd me off @ th corner of

la

plaza dl castillo where th hotel is snugly nestled…tonight will be my

third

night, i was hoping to do another week of walking, into la rioja or th

first

towns in castilla but i’m not sure i can handle th cold wave that’s coming

in

my resource-depleted state…there’s another spanner in th works: i’ve

gotten

word that th house in la guardia may have bn already sold, so i have no

place

of my own to go to…gotta call my pariente carlitos alonso & find out

what’s

going on…th news, as may be expected, contributes to making me feel

increasingly adrift, homeless- there is no place on earth where i do not

live

as if in exile, including puerto rico…(à suivre…)

love, love/ i have hung our cave w/ roses…

davidj=(8{>

* but i ain’t gonna see my baby tonight. got no baby to see. so on th seventh day, i rested. pushd it a little

too far, too fast- what else is new? nearly 160 kilometers in that week- from canfranc near somport & th

aragonese border w/ france to puente la reina-garés in navarra, where el camino aragonés joins el camino

francés…th nail on my big left toe is on its way off- tiene los días contados, even if i’m not doing th

counting, my left knee is still achy after four days inactivity- some sweling, not sure if it’s tendinitis

(tendOnitis?) or bruisd cartilage…i’m not into th heavy macho thing, i need to train a little better for

whatever follow-up i expect to do… it’s a grey day in pamplona as i write this & i’m paying for th hemingway

aura-i actually have th room next door to th one he always took- in th hotel la perla because i arrived in town

after midnight sunday & th hostales had all lockd their doors. i walkd into café-bar joakín in puente la reina

expecting to have an early lunch- before two n th aftenoon, in spain- & check th photo show on th walls before

taking th afternoon bus into th capital- iruña, in basque-only to find myself invited to th closing supper that

evening by th owner-chef, who also had some even nicer black & white prints hung in th rear dining room-& these

were his own. after a long afternoon of drinking & dice-throwing, i helpd fernando make a big dish of cous-cous

we all dug into w/ spoons…th man is working to open his new business here in town sometime before th

christmas season & i haven’t managed to see him since he droppd me off @ th corner of la plaza dl castillo

where th hotel is snugly nestled…tonight will be my third night, i was hoping to do another week of walking,

into la rioja or th first towns in castilla but i’m not sure i can handle th cold wave that’s coming in my

resource-depleted state…there’s another spanner in th works: i’ve gotten word that th house in la guardia may

have bn already sold, so i have no place of my own to go to…gotta call my parinte carlitos alonso & find out

what’s going on…th news, as may be expected, contributes to making me feel increasingly adrift, homeless-

there is no place on earth where i do not live as if in exile, including puerto rico…(à suivre…) love,

love/ i have hung our cave w/ roses… davidj=(8{>