.:wanderlustmedia+dot+org:.

(some background:)

…when i was growing up, there used to be a grazing pasture under a

coconut grove where urbanización san demetrio- a suburban-type housing

development- now sits….

there was a small steep rise, hardly tall enough to merit being called a

hill, & behind it, hidden from th road & th shore, a small lagoon lay

nestled among marshes- one of th few natural bodies of fresh water in

puerto rico:

apart from a lagoon in guánica i only recently noticed in a road map &

about which i’d like

to find out more, to my knowledge, there’s only laguna tortuguero in manatí

(th neighboring

town to th west of here) & laguna cartagena between lajas & cabo rojo in th

southwest corner

of th island. (guánica is just east of lajas, actually.) laguna cartagena

was completely drained

as ‘insalubrious’ in th late ’40’s, its rich silt bed plowed into farmland

w/ dramatic consequences: th lagoon was an important nesting ground for

migratory birds & as a consequence of massive habitat destruction, bird

populations have been decimated, their migratory patterns severely

disrupted. recently, i have heard there is a movement afoot to try to undo

th damage

by refilling th lagoon…

in vega baja, th marshes- known as ‘pollales’ (poyales?) here- survive

behind th housing project, but th little hill was flattened right into th

lagoon…

i’m just now beginning to realize that @ some time, th cibuco river estuary

& mangrove forest were most likely joined by these marshes (-& channels?

natural drainage ditches?) to laguna tortuguero in one big wetlands

system…low-lying wetlands alternate w/ dunes of very fine white sand

throughout th area: sand gets carted away by th truckload for construction,

wetlands

are drained…laguna tortuguero, for example, has a drainage ditch which

empties by th well-known surf break @ los tubos beach. (also th site for th

notorious ‘mar & sol’ rock music festival back in ‘72.) i grew up thinking

this was a natural feature, but sometime ago found

out it was dug out by th army corps of engineers: there used to be an army

base right next to

th lagoon, camp tortuguero, & i imagine they might have built mostly on

landfill …

…i remember once walking from vega baja to th beach, deciding to go ‘off

road’-

(christalía had just gotten on th plane back to nyc after a difficult week-

i was desperately holding on to a dying, if not already dead, relationship)

i imagine i’d borrowed somebody’s car & had returned it, because i rode a

‘público’

out from san juan & started to walk, mostly out of impatience w/ waiting

for a local

‘pisicorre’ plying th route from th town to th beach…maybe a relative or

two

zoomed by w/out seeing me, fueling my feelings of abandonment & self-pity.

on th straightway between th curve after th caribe china factory & barrio

los naranjos- on th edge of th main creek or channel i believe drains th

wetlands

towards th cibuco river- a fairly wide dirt road opened to my left. i

thought,

why not cut across? (a suivre…)

Monday th 15, 02.1999 (01h56)

I must’ve taken th wrong road- again.

(I took a lot of wrong roads today- missd th de diego expressway exit onto

route 10, th new controversial ‘highway’ south from arecibo to utuado…

turnd back around & paid an extra 35 cents toll to get on it instead of

possibly

going on to camuy along th coast & driving down to lares by th eastern side

of

lake guajataca…

then i took 111 to lares instead of staying on route 10 to adjuntas because

it

seemd straighter & faster- wrong again! recurrent stretches of road

narrowed to

one flimsily guarded, winding lane by unrepaired land&mudslides…)

357 out of maricao- my destination, for th final day of th coffee harvest

festival, ‘el acabe dl café’- goes into 105, th panoramic route, & it’s

a solid half hour of roller coaster hairpin turns- to roll into mayagüez

soon

after midnight only to do a little unintended night tour as i momentarily

lost

my way across town to get onto highway 2…

pepe bermúdez, you must be one hell of a driver if you do this route in

just

under two hours! maybe th thing is to head south on 119 to san germán…?

-even doing 70- 75 from th moment I hit th expreso in hatillo, I only got

back

to vega baja about twenty to two…

some nice, moody fog patches off laguna tortuguero made me wish I’d gotten

off

th expreso sooner- saved fifty cents toll- & taken th little road around th

west,

manatí side of th lagoon- I love fog…(to be continued…)

Wednesday th 10, 02.1999 (23h12) mittwoch, midweek, miércoles/mercredi/mercoleddi? -mercury day? woden/wotan’s

day?)
Thursday-donnerstag: thunderday (jueves: jove’s day…) vendredi- jour de venus? freitag- freeday? sonnabend-

sunday’s eve- rainy days & mondays… time. time, time/see what’s become of me/ while i lookd around/for my

possibilities…
(& th sky/is a hazy shade of winter) -is my life over before it’s begun? i hear th crunch of approaching

wheels on th dirt road- nothing, nobody… no messages, no reply/no reply… what was it th white rabbit kept

saying? ‘i’m late!’? ‘i’m running late!’? time is short, pudgy, bald…tiene q ser la luna- it must be th

moon: selene is hidden tonight & hecate rampant spits dark madness over th land… closest to winter we come

in these latitudes is th february new moon, wild winds swirling as th cold fronts push south all th way from

hudson’s bay… rumors th mercury went down to somewhere below forty degrees in maricao last week…

EXT.: SHIP SURROUNDED BY ICE FLOES -TWILIGHT two men- BARON VON FRANKENSTEIN & SHIP’S CAPTAIN-

gesture angrily, argumentatively, on deck while th whistling wind brings th mingled sound of a distant, but

fast approaching voice, singing tunelessly, off:
(TH MONSTER)
i found my way to winter
where my heart could make a home
my black blood will fuel th fire
my white flame will dance alone

sown up out of magic meat-
i am free! i sing & stroke!
how long am i yet to live?
i dream children out of smoke

reach yr skygod, mother earth
while i, yr only burning bush
rootless roll across yr face-
play my curse out, aimless push

…loof, d=(8{>

(-& empty arms…

go’bless th deutsche sprache, in which ‘th moon’

is masculine:der mond- el luna? -el luno??

-& th sun is gendered femenine: die sonne, la sol!

lovely reversal of th conventional gender associations-

@ least for latin-derived, romance languages…)

(Wednesday th 17, 12.1997)

I can’t think or run away-

th road is louder than th radio

-this off-road time machine of mine

won’t hide th grey in th rearview-

th road is louder than th radio

(only christmas cards I get

are from brokerage house moneymen…

I’m nothing but a client- how much for

th little white lie of yr love?)

I can’t hide so I can’t stay-

there’s a full moon all over th world

-tv hosts in finland & france

beam us their gameshow reminders-

there’s a full moon all over th world

-shining brightly again on super bowl sunday, 1999-

& casting th clearest, sharpest moonshadows i ever remember

noticing…how bright was it? i went to take a leak

out in th yard & th stream of piss cast a shadow- *that*s how bright!

…earlier, as i began my run on th road to cibuco, i had an

unexpectedly clear view of th moon before it rose into th grey

line of clouds gathering just above th horizon-

a peachy-coral ball as big as th sun climbing out of th ocean…

…woke up on ground hog day (virgen d la candelaria bonfires in puerto

rico…)

to a giant swell jumping over th seawall, spraying up to th new second

story

windows…& th phone out…

a week has gone by already- th half moon boat floats up @ midnight-

need to plug into a phone line somewhere to post this- san juan- caparra?

luv, d=(8{>

(ayianito: peddona te inunde tanto el hardraiv- mi last dialogue con paco boyer incluye joyitas para inspiración lit&creativa, ideas re.:pretensiones culturales d/para mi diario d peregrino…d=(8{>)
Frank Boyer, INTERNET: fboyer@netstep.net
Date: Die, 05. Jan 1999 11:33:23 PM

Messex written by Foyer
“fra minehole project of my dissert a ton, tying to come a way of doing it that doesn’t make me sick unto death.
* yikes! get thee th healing balm of gilead & lead me on a pilgrimage there… drifts deter generic placement starting to reflect on mi nancy those reflections seem to me to be gin to coal to form.
* funny, you had a comment (criticism?) a while back about dates & tying my musings to th specific- to th strictly anecdotic- & i bristld @ first, but learnd from it- it’s a tightrope (th tightrope of all art???) because i tend to use th anecdote to ground a tendency to fly into discursive abstraction that clots up there

in th ether & often comes crashing down like so much pretentious flying pig shit… anyway, glad you enjoy my process…hope you find a way to leaven/lighten yr own…
As Kerouac once wrote, “What you feel will find its own form.”
* oh, yes, ‘ti jean! thanx for that quote!
Have you read Bruce Chatwin.
* yup, some- got an anthology of shorter articles here…
You know that Cain was a wanderer. Take a look at Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage and Cain, both by good ol’ boy Byron.”
* know what i started (re)reading (never finishd it th 1st time)? weber’s ‘protestant ethic & th spirit of capitalism’: have vague ideas about trying to focus my online travel diary (if -) on/as a journey tracing luther- reform- central europe towards th west- middle ages- catholicism &c &c… meanwhile looking @ th first effects of th monetary unification of europe… true imperialism of centralising capital…blahblah… good ol’(bad)boy byron wd be a luvly change of pace…i’ll have to shop for it…
————— End rig in a Mess ————
loof, d=(8{>

(ayianito: peddona te inunde tanto el hardraiv- mi last dialogue con paco boyer incluye joyitas para inspiración lit&creativa;, ideas re.:pretensiones culturales d/para mi diario d peregrino…d=(8{>)
Frank Boyer, INTERNET: fboyer@netstep.net
Date: Die, 05. Jan 1999 11:33:23 PM

Messex written by Foyer
“fra minehole project of my dissert a ton, tying to come a way of doing it that doesn’t make me sick unto death.
* yikes! get thee th healing balm of gilead & lead me on a pilgrimage there… drifts deter generic placement starting to reflect on mi nancy those reflections seem to me to be gin to coal to form.
* funny, you had a comment (criticism?) a while back about dates & tying my musings to th specific- to th strictly anecdotic- & i bristld @ first, but learnd from it- it’s a tightrope (th tightrope of all art???) because i tend to use th anecdote to ground a tendency to fly into discursive abstraction that clots up there

in th ether & often comes crashing down like so much pretentious flying pig shit… anyway, glad you enjoy my process…hope you find a way to leaven/lighten yr own…
As Kerouac once wrote, “What you feel will find its own form.”
* oh, yes, ‘ti jean! thanx for that quote!
Have you read Bruce Chatwin.
* yup, some- got an anthology of shorter articles here…
You know that Cain was a wanderer. Take a look at Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage and Cain, both by good ol’ boy Byron.”
* know what i started (re)reading (never finishd it th 1st time)? weber’s ‘protestant ethic & th spirit of capitalism’: have vague ideas about trying to focus my online travel diary (if -) on/as a journey tracing luther- reform- central europe towards th west- middle ages- catholicism &c; &c…; meanwhile looking @ th first effects of th monetary unification of europe… true imperialism of centralising capital…blahblah… good ol’(bad)boy byron wd be a luvly change of pace…i’ll have to shop for it…
————— End rig in a Mess ————
loof, d=(8{>

(-& empty arms… go’bless th deutsche sprache, in which ‘th moon’ is masculine:der mond- el luna? -el luno??
* & th sun is gendered femenine: die sonne, la sol! lovely reversal of th conventional gender associations- @ least for latin-derived, romance languages…)

(Wednesday th 17, 12.1997)
I can’t think or run away-
th road is louder than th radio
* this off-road time machine of mine won’t hide th grey in th rearview-th road is louder than th radio

(only christmas cards I get
are from brokerage house moneymen…
I’m nothing but a client- how much for
th little white lie of yr love?)

I can’t hide so I can’t stay-
there’s a full moon all over th world
* tv hosts in finland & france beam us their gameshow reminders- there’s a full moon all over th world
* shining brightly again on super bowl sunday, 1999- & casting th clearest, sharpest moonshadows i ever remember noticing…how bright was it? i went to take a leak out in th yard & th stream of piss cast a shadow- *that*s how bright! …earlier, as i began my run on th road to cibuco, i had an unexpectedly clear view of th moon before it rose into th grey line of clouds gathering just above th horizon- a peachy-coral ball as big as th sun climbing out of th ocean…

…woke up on ground hog day (virgen d la candelaria bonfires in puerto rico…) to a giant swell jumping over th seawall, spraying up to th new second story windows…& th phone out…
a week has gone by already- th half moon boat floats up @ midnight- need to plug into a phone line somewhere to post this- san juan- caparra?
luv, d=(8{>