.:wanderlustmedia+dot+org:.

(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)

stall out day…write out into th void..swimming in a sea of quotes-’if not now, when?’ rabbi hillel, ‘whatever

you can do or think you can do, begin it!
…for boldness has power, magic &(…?)in it’
* goethe
…ich kreise um gott, um den uralten turm
um ich kreise jahrtausendelang;
und ich weiss nicht: bin ich ein falke, ein sturm
oder ein grosser gesang
* r.m.rilke
*but* i’m taking a first step towards walking th walk, getting on a train most likely @ eight-thirty tomorrow

morning, saturday th 9th oktober, to canfranc estación in aragón where i will see about getting my pilgrim card

& @ th very least, hiking el camino aragonés for a week… i keep rehearsing postings as i eat, as i walk, as

i drift off to sleep but i become absorbd by basic mail mgmt & other office tasks in th context of a large room

w/ a dozen keyboards clicking away…i rpomise mself i’ll write down longhand drafts & just enter & edit in

here, ‘del dicho al hecho…’(from word to deed…another case of compulsively talking th talk @ mself only to

build a wall of resistance against walking th walk…hmmmm…) one line @ a time, one posting @ a time, one

day, one week, one meal, one street, one town, one world, one life @ a time…
(to be continued…)
my endless…davidj=(8{>

no morning pages: filld up my lined page school-type notebk & am…hesitating on th shift to th big bound

sketchbk…no sitting, no morning pages- lost my new two-month old timex bought @ k-mart on astor place in th

east(?)village…dove into th rough, dirty sea of th barceloneta beach @ th end of my run yesterday…’doing

lunch’ today w/ toni garcía-porta, co-author of th book source for my screenplay…our gentleman’s agreement on

th option for th film rights lapsd w/ th end of ‘98 & i’m wondering if we can move towards my starting to

assume my co-producer role & finally buying these rights… what else? it’s friday. david zambrano dances this

wkend, expect to go see himn tomorrow. marel hasn’t finishd editing her film short, she will not have a look @

my draft until november- when she will be teaching a workshop on screen writing. recommended i reread

truffaut’s book-length hitchcock interview for some gems…also, jean-claude carrière, who workd w/ buñuel, has

a good book on th craft…it took me hmm..an hour & a half of office chores, email replys, a peek @ some teen

webcake to finally get down to writing…got claudia, australian of chilean parentage, together w/ tiina,

finnish dancer & performance artist who just narrowly missd relocating to nyc on relationship woes…i may save

this & do a second part tomorrow before posting- sent my first poetic attempt in spanish off yesterday…mónica

serrano & father tom might be interested in it, too…i think twice when figuring out who speaks what out of my

friends & family, w/ having a german nephew who is more comfortable speaking french than english by now, though

th latter is his better written language (hey, hpjhD, when do we ever see each other?? newyear’s eve, y2k??)
(à suivre…) saturday th second of october. here’s a weird one: david zambrano here in barcelona hails from

ecuador, he’s not th david zambrano from venezuela i know! two imrovisational dance performers from different

countries in south america w/ th same name?? wild. i’ll go see him perform tonight. had three fruit yogurts

for a late bkfast around noon & th sugar threw me into a candida/hypoglecimic nap…so i had a double espresso

sweetened w/ anisette (more sugar!) & a croissant for ‘lunch’…gonna be four o´clock: run soon, early, meet up

w/ tiina by seven-thirty for a healthy, early din(?) @ la botiga comme-bio before going ‘uptown’ for th

show…i’ve got two or three drafts starting on a ’story thus far’ theme, as much to help me step back a bit,

refocus, organize my priorities as to fill in people i haven’t been sending every installment to on parts of th

story they may have missd. david sower in virginia may finally help me put up a basic webpage where i can

upload my writing to an archive so tht friends, family & total strangers may @ their own leisure, in their own

time, peruse my ongoing journal & as much of last year’s story as i transferred from my powerbook’s hardrive to

my yahoo & excite accounts… basta for now!
* what is this thing called…? davidj=(8{>

soy afortunado: el mundo apiña evidencias
ante el herrumboso portón d mi jardín abandonado
(la fortuna es, imagen trillada d por más,
una improbable rosa carnal
protegida por gruesas espinas)

tengo la fortuna d mi deriva & mi soledad-
d un tiempo sin medida q se agota d golpe
sobre un territorio sin rutas-
tengo la fortuna inservible d mi madre muerta
& un corazon partío al nacer…
tengo la fortuna d no alcanzar con mi abrazo
nada ni nadie- mi libertad a flor d piel como la lepra

soy afortunado & aprendo a agradecerlo
desde mi escepticismo sobre la balanza-
preguntarle a mi infancia d secreta niña impura
en contemplación dl horizonte…

amor, amor…davidj=(8{>

…falling asleep in my chair- finally made it into th mediterranean sea @ about two in th morning…still

couldn’t get to sleep when i got back, puttering around my half-packd travel bags…couple of nights ago, th

possibility seemd to arise w/ deceptive solidity of sharing car rental expenses w/ three guys- two scots, one

englishman- on holiday from studies @ edinburgh university. an intense young pool-playing frenchman name of

denys- th youngest, nice-born sibling in a family that moved south from outside of paris-whetted my appetite

for th hills, speaking of a canyon area in red clay slopes to th northeast, insisting it harbored more natural

beauty than th gorges du verdon, including th only nestings of white-collared european eagles in th area…he

was supposd to meet us last night w/ some fresh-pickd jenepy (juniper?) from his day hike, but no sign of

him…andrew, kris & kenny fly back to edinburgh on thursday & andrew’s th only one who’s brought his license &

has had it long enough to qualify as my o-pilot on a rental, seemingly…so we’ve just talkd, strolld out to th

beach w/ svenja- indiana-raisd german girl who has promisd to help me translate a classified to place on th

bauhaus-universitaet online bulletin board, offering some financial incentives to a student who might think it

worth his while to make an eco-retrofitting of th old house in la guardia his diploma project…th water was

uncannily warm. felt as warm as puerto rico. maybe my inner heat helped. svenja is a sparklingly mysterious,

no-nonsense tomboy & of course i feel like a total, drooling fool around her. i hope i get some sleep on this

train. if i can’t seem to find a place to stay in barcelona, i’m considering continuing on to galicia monday

night. or i could try chus torrens in huesca, or paco simon in zaragoza…
& yr friends, baby/they treat you like a guest/don’t you want somebody to…
davidj=(8{>

it’s th midweek, when i prefer to travel & i had to drag myself to take advantage of an
offer from th french trains & didn’t make it out to antibes until after four thirty. so
much for a day @ th beach. my throat is bothering me again. gotta buy some echinacea.
don’t know if i’ll make it out to quinson & th relais notre dame run(i think, still) by
a wonderful french-german couple…also thought of vising some wine producers who
started th switch to organic (or ‘biologique’ as they call it here) ten years ago, &
welcome guests to stay over & get a feel for th viticulture involved…keep meaning to
call them, but five o’clock goes by & i hesitate on trying them @ night…so this
particular internet cafe seems to be @ least run by a young, red maned englishwoman…
i keep feeling th urge to make an attempt @ starting to walk el camino, w/ th voice of
reasonable fear (fearful reason?) bringing attention to my health problems, lack of
hiking experience…i think th inner turmoil is making me sicker but have no sense of
how to get beyond th impasse…acceptance, acceptance, acceptance…
as it stands, tonight is my last night @ hotel athena in nice, but i have reservations
for nothing or nowhere else…le jardi in barcelona seemd to have some available rooms
fortomorrow & friday nights- sept. th 23 & 24- but was bookd for th next two nights,
spotty availability of rooms over th week…have no sense of my options…not easy,
keeping it in th moment- i seem to live one day @ a time in all th wrong ways, looking
ahead in anxiety, paralysed & not quite doing th footwork…what’ll i do/what’ll i do?
all you need is…d=(8{>

…is an anthology film, w/ short story segments directed by different directors. i
haven’t seen it, i know raul ruiz directed one of th segments. i walkd into a
restaurant last night, attracted by th front, th ambience, tho a little afraid it might
be something of a tourist trap, being across a side street- rue de suisse- from nice’s
own church of notre dame. there*were*an awful lot of english speaking people there,
including a tableful of young japanese women, but la patronne was friendly, her help
was good-looking, if a bit slow, & th food was good- i also came in rather close
toclosing time, so i felt i might be taking pot luck- on th contrary, it workd to my
advantage, plat du jour for two was a ‘gigolette’ of lamb, & there was a portion for me
left, so i went w/ it…wish i’d gone w/ th potage de legumes for entree instead of th
fish soup, but anyway…th flan was great,i’d bn craving some for th last week or two-
it was big enough to make nearly a whole other meal, & i was very sorry to find they
weren’t open for lunch today, as i half-believed it wd be- not until october rolls in,
said th note on th door…cut to th chase: they had a ‘golden book’- a scrap book w/
notes from well-wishers over th nine years they’ve bn in business, from opening, thru
what seemd like a change of locale…& among these was raul ruiz’s signature & a
newspaper clipping featuring ummm whatsername, who had th leading role in ruiz’s
segement in ‘a propos de nice’- now is that some kind of good omen or what? a nice end
to en excruciating day- i blew my connecting train in milan by five minutes, & instead
of finding a cafe & treating myself to breakfast (there was no meal car on this train!)
i rushd to catch a regional train to genoa…guess what, no meal car, no coffee…so in
genoa i had a double espresso & a grappa de anice- like catalan dry anis- & what th
lady next to me calld a brioche- but looked to me like a croissant! …i spend th rest
of th afternoon on this milk train making absolutely all th stops along th ligurian
coast to ventimiglia & another, french mlik train making all th stops along th cote
d’azur cursing myself for not having something more substantial to eat- no meal cars on
either of these trains either…i think i’ll be here until @ least tuesday morning…if
i had gone to paris i could’ve joined th techno parade- jack lang’s french love parade
clone…maybe next year…? alex? alexza? paris, september 2k??
you better find/somebody to…d=(8{>

praise & gratitude & acknowledgement of elegguá, who opens & closes all doors, all paths…aché…my compulsive

control mechanisms kick in on th face of little blessings…oh, ye of little faith…why am i going to nice? to

meet up w/ nephews hans-peter & klaus-heiner? but it feels uncertain, dubious- i’m antsy restless bewildered @

th difficulties obstacles indifference regarding my projects- th screenplay, th house in galicia…i want to

rush to barcelona, to la guardia, talk to th people i know @ SGAE- th spanish copyright society/authors &

composer’s association…but i don’t even know if luis más is still @ his desk in madrid…it’s been four long

years since ‘95…i gotta met w/ toni & roberto & see about renewing my option on th adaptation rights to their

novel- i already have a screenplay based on it-can i get some help in finally buying th rights? do i just need

to get to france to start walking @ least a part of th route to santiago?
‘life is a journey to be made on foot’- who was bruce chatwin quoting in th text i read?
…so i finally yield & have two espressos just now, five o’clock in th afternoon…i’m
really holding on to this avenue vehicle medium technology to feel connected, & after
nearly a month here, getting half-used to th particular co-dependent interaction w/ my
brother & his wife, german character & idiosyncracies & diet, getting back on th road,
not going directly to le relais notre dame up in th hills of provence, @ least a place
i know- i’m not sure if madame & her retired air-traffic controller from munich are
still actively running th place, haven’t gotten to talk to them on th phone, so i’ve
resisted on committing to reservations…between a rock & a soft place?? i have no idea
what nice is like, how easy it will be to find a reasonably priced hotel room for th
night tomorrow, saturday around two- three in th afternoon…i have no idea when i may
be able to sit down & write th next installment of this…fake it until i make
it…face th fear…again & again…feel silly silly silly…i got to see ‘buena vista
social club’ as a special gift…started crying th minute i sat down & th music
started…how do i find my way back to music?? is that yet another task for me? or th
one true north of a task underneath th distractions, projects, wanderings?
yesterday was a very long day w/ peter & astrid, from dornburg to naumburg to bad
koesen to bad sulza thru th only thuringian vineyards w/in th saale-unstrut
designation, missd th turntable dj mix performance @ th opening…& i gotta go. gotta
reserve my couchette to try to sleep on this train tonight. thank you all for tuning
in. see you when i see you. is this…? davidj=(8{>

loose anecdotes-

walking to pfarrkirchen that day three weeks ago or so for my first german

installment,

i remember noticing th particular rumble of an approaching motorcycle:

after th

higher-pitchd, close sputtering of th abundant rice burners on th bayern

backroads (&

front & side roads, too) this low, clear-cylinder roar made me think of th

expression-

‘like a well-tuned fart’ or something like that & i turned to see my first

german

harley rider. a second one rode along past me down some weimar street

yesterday. that

sound is unmistakable…

riding w/ alex on those backroads, those first rainy nights in

niederbayern, i couldn’t

help but notice th sadly abundant number of small furry animals bloodily

splattered

over th pavement- ‘what’s w/ all th roadkill, alex?’ i asked, to his

befuddlement. i

proceeded to expostulate (don’t ask me why) on th possible metaphorical

uses of th

term- like, i guess, feeling like something of a failure in th conventional

terms of

modern social success & wondering if i’m roadkill on th highway of late

20th century-

ummm- life?

am i living my life a little too virtually & pretending this somehow

semantically

slides into living it virtuously??

i acted on my respect for th dead- walking to pfarrkirchen- & nudged one

poor little

hedgehog, dead & bloated nearly perfectly into a ball- too small for

soccer, too big

for- what have you…a small miracle th poor thing wasn’t flattened into a

bloody

tattoo on th pavement, as most of th animals that get run over in these

parts seem to

be- nudged him (her?) off th road, anyway. wasn’t carrying th tools to

attempt a decent

burial…

excuse th topic, seems to agree w/ me & linger on…

(next day, friday th 10th…) i knew there were other topics to discusss-

seems

thursday night is oldies night all over germany! as i walkd ‘home’ last

night to peter

& astrid’s, music came out of one restaurant bar i’ve bn meaning to check

out- ‘hang on

sloopy’!…& back in bayern, my big night out w/ alex & vanessa & christof

& michaela

was to a disco calld platinum & these kids who cd be my sons or daughters

(as teresa wd

hiss @ me whenever my head wd turn to follow some pretty young thing w/ my

gaze) were

singing along to th weiiiirdest stuff- th trini lópez version of ‘if i had

a hammer’??-

‘hit th road, jack’ by ray charles…’son of a preacher man’ by dusty

springfield, ‘th

lion sleeps tonight’ by–?

& so on…

true, true…davidj=(8{>

dear dear alexza,

from th charged distance our mirroring fears

have negotiated in muffled, dodging skirmishes

i cherish th memory of yr sly smirk & guarded eyes

framed by th ragged curtain of yr unruly lion’s mane

in th heart of th maze of my intermittent wanderings

i hunger & thirst for news of yr own journeys-

w/ every widemouthed lungful of breath i take & give back

i want to cheer yr every embattled stride on

i will earn th right to wholly grieve & finally release

my losses by th praiseful display of glowing shadowplay tracks

yr veiled enduring pain has left across my snowy heart

th deepest well is dark & dangerous: we risk a fall

when our fascinated gaze seeks out th bottom in fear

but parched skin & throat keep th blind balance of their thirst

& th pure soothing waters th crushing mineral belly sources

are th sweetest we will ever taste

love, davidj=(8{>