zensolo’s e-mailed chronicles posted by morituri.

Archive for September, 1999


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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{>

Written by morituri

September 30th, 1999 at 10:34 pm

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hebdo.unterWegs-night train

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…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…

Written by morituri

September 26th, 1999 at 2:57 am

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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{>

Written by morituri

September 22nd, 1999 at 2:36 am

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hebdo:unterWegs- a propos de nice…

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…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{>

Written by morituri

September 19th, 1999 at 1:45 am

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hebdo.unterWegs:turning it over

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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{>

Written by morituri

September 17th, 1999 at 1:45 am

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loose anecdotes-

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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{>

Written by morituri

September 12th, 1999 at 5:33 am

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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{>

Written by morituri

September 9th, 1999 at 6:56 am

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September 3rd 1999 Pt. 2

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ohhhh boy. it’s been a week- & then some. realized last night i’d been

behaving as if i were joined to alex @ th hip. where do i begin?

finally hiked/ walkd into pfarrkirchen today- a roundabout way by

breitenbach & furcht (?) that made it about 15 or so kilometers- maybe


so just about ten miles…it’s alex’s turn to be under th weather- just


th weather clears & he gets ready to go back to hamburg w/ his new

girlfriend vanessa, who came down for a visit last thursday. we’ll board


inter-city together tomorrow, i change trains for weimar @ fulda…

maybe i shd do something like a chronology…

so i took th train from amsterdam to munich on tuesday. met christopher,

alex’s hometown bud & th ultimate party machine, running on coffee, beer,

cigarettes & a new infatuation every other day. in

th week & a half since i met him, i’ve only seen him eat once: last


when we got some pizzas to go from ‘il cavallino’, a kitschy-elegant

trattoria that seems to be th only restaurant among

th downtown pfarrkirchen strip of pastry shop-cafes…

i’d had half a bottle of macon for w/ a late lunch salad & cheese plate


th amsterdam train, & a tomato soup & some tortellini w/ th same canned

tomato soup for a sauce late in th evening, close to arriving in munich.

anyway, i caught th christopher bug- had a big hefe-weizen & a shot of

tequila @ a student-run bar known as ‘manhattan’, on top of th tallest


in th student residence compound, & got kind of chilld on th windy


looking over th town talking to amy from detroit…it was nearly four in


morning by th time we arranged our sleeping places & i woke up on eclipse

wednesday, august 11, w/ a bad sore throat…nursed it w/ an


breakfast of weisswurst, pretzel & sweet mustard, then alternatively

‘oohhh’d’ & ‘awwww’d’ along w/ th gathered crowd as clouds played w/ th

visibility of th event as totality approached…

Written by morituri

September 3rd, 1999 at 5:54 pm

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trouble w/ th yahoo mail server, it seems. a posting to hans-peter in antibes never made it- cdn’t save th

draft, cdn’t send it- i kept getting a ‘document is empty’ box…
ANYWAY-got sick again- though i’m really weirded out, i’ve just had this fatigue, malaise, achy joints, no sore

throat, no head cold- super-dry scorched earth burning pain in my sinuses, though…but then i started noticing

symptoms intensified after meals & i started wondering if i was having my recurrent problem w/ bad bacteria in

my gut-candida or any of those other non-pathogenic non-problems to western medicine… so i got some vicious

natural echinacea extract, & started eating garlic toast w/ every meal, putting garlic in my peppermint tea,

even…seems to be helping…feel better today…also searching out for pineapple juice…maybe

gentian…golden seal… yeah, back in bayern, driving in to th family farm from munich, frau schachtner,

alex’s mom, got me fresh sage & dried peppermint from her garden…still, being a total stranger, i didn’t want

to be too weird about food, so i had a diet of mostly pork, dumplings & cucumber salad for th ten days i

visited…i think i was mostly over th cold in couple of days, but th heavy food & strong coffee i brewed for

mself got me trying to do my running maybe a little too quick on th draw, & blowing buckets of snot to th wind

just about ’til th end of my stay…
guess i mucus’d out & i’m @ th other extreme end of things now… meanwhile, back in bayern…i felt well

enough those last few days to go out dancing w/ alex, his girlfriend, vanessa, who came down from hamburg for a

couple of days, wild&creizy guy christof, & surrogate family matriarch michaela- micha for short. boy, i

breathed more second-hand smoke in one night than i had in my previous year in puerto rico! -oh, i did make a

dancing fool of mself by mself a few days earlier in passau…they played that ummm- i’m not sure if it’s th

jacksons or just michael-y’know- ’shake yr body down to th ground’?
& BTW, we had a nice little ‘family’ meal of takeout pizza & i sprung for a great montepulciano, not abruzzese,

but from le marche…& was read my first ‘gummy bear’ oracle- i cdn’t help but think of christalía- it was her

particular kiddie candy addiction holdover & i don’t think i’d heard of gummy bears before or since them- well,

this one german nut has workd out a whole oracle where you pick five- one for each color- & th color pattern

tells you where you are & what’s happening- i-ching w/ candy, though even more in-th-moment, i don’t think you

can ask about any specific concern, though i may be wrong. well, it pretty frighteningly accurate about where i

am in my life, & my particular brand of caretaking codependence! i tell you, uncanny. so th upshot is, i’m

family now. we will see what obligations & privileges that might entail…i’d love to go back for another

visit. th waitress @ ‘il cavallino’, where we got th pizzas & wine, was a dark, almond-eyed italian beauty from

th region just north of calabia (or puglia? calabria, i think…) & i can’t seem to get her out of my mind.

maybe i was born to be an adult-child dirty old man… lovey-dovey/lovey-dovey all th time…dj=(8{>

Written by morituri

September 3rd, 1999 at 1:11 am

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