Turrialba

Jeans

Fierce Invalids and mountain music. Red wine and Kraft dinner. Writing and cigarettes. Shoes. Many things come in pairs; some complement each other, some distract from the other, and some should be comfortable.

España España

Rainy grey Sunday afternoon. Spanish guitar, I’ve raised the bar on gourmet Kraft dinner. Spain over Germany 1-0 to take the Euro. The neighbourhood is quietly listening in through the deluge. My roof leaks in several places. The mind moves slowly, lazily through into evening. Lovely, Lonely, Lazy, and me. Breakfast with Rebe. Plants need watering; seems an odd concept in the rain. House looks good, clean. A few things yet to do. Not so much in the mood. Think I might find a movie. Maybe. A good book would be better. That's all.

gnocchi nights

Mmmmmmhm not so bad for a late night snacking session. I have beginners luck...

the neglegent gardener

more here

Leftovers from Il Pomadoro, red wine, and Alejandro Sanz

Monday night, after an uneventful day at work, I ease into a relaxing evening of writing and music with some good wine and leftover pizza. I’m not sure how far I can run with this; writing isn’t one of those things that ever comes easy. The wine doesn’t hurt though, and this bottle needs a little help along.

A friend lent me a disc of Alejandro Sanz, which is currently turned up reasonably high enough to rouse the neighbourhood. Were getting a little funky here as we ease into the second half of the disc... oooof, there it is, this track just hurts to listen to. I’m going to take a minute, be right back.

I’m just about set on this new roommate. Jakob moves out at the end of the month. My first impressions after sifting through too many emails and strange interviews are that this new one might work out well. At the very least it should be interesting. The guy is the online editor for www.ticotimes.net and as a reluctant news junky, we may find some common ground. On top of that he is too old to party the way he seems to which means he must forgive my own relentless denial/embracing of early 30’s life/rock stardom.

The music is moving me, the wine is making my eyes heavy, and my mind is wandering towards the “Cunning Man”, that Robertson Davies novel I found at 7th Street Books in excellent rabbit eared condition. Reading it makes me yearn for summertime in T.O, afternoons on the islands, wasting away on the Black Bull patio, or margaritas upstairs at... Margaritas. I had the death of a crush on the waitress, the daughter I think, back before my latinaphilia became a recognized addiction. I wonder really where it came from.

Toronto, emerging culture, the role of the mind in health, and the shaping of an individual are the themes I can jump to right off in the novel, not that I know much of themes and the like. It is however riveting, and a great return from a long respite from a good read. That is all, good night.

the road

More photos here from saturday night

misty mountain top

What is it about those evenings, when darkness wraps the world like a blanket, the cold seems to fade away, and a wave of contentment seems to wash over the world? I have always associated this feeling with Christmas holidays, soft snow, trees wreathed in light, and family or friends. How is it then that on occasion, these evenings manifest on rain soaked July nights in the tropics?

I was invited to join some friends for lunch at their house up in the mountains above Granadilla. A curtain of rain and mist had long obliterated the volcanic peaks and jungle tapestries up above, bringing nights fall without even ever acknowledging the passing of the day. The rain fell soft and unrelenting, yet standing out back overlooking the smudged lights of the city, that cocoon of comfort enveloped my being. Of course, recognizing it, and with associations of Christmas drifting through my consciousness, my question surfaced, and remained, even as I enjoyed the moment of ease.

I am in no way about to attempt to answer my self imposed question here and now. Rather, I simply hope to gather in the ingredients, so to speak, and bear witness to a moment of gladness.