November 30th, 2007 (Hotel Ingleterra)

I keep thinking I oughta balance the stuff over here that picks me up with the other deal. But I don´t really feel like it. I nearly always have to stop and check to see that the dogs and cats sleeping in the gutters aren´t dead. And 10% of the time they ARE dead. The idea that vets are gainfully employed here is still one of the great mysteries of my life.

This´ll have to be brief and I don´t think it´s worth much. But last night I was dog tired and walked a long ways to get home---and I kept wondering what it is about this culture, that every person you have a THING with when you make eye contact, looks BACK. It stings. Not as bad as the goodbyes you´ve had to make here and there with certain people or relationships---but it counts. There was one time about 6 years ago I spotted a girl a block down the street in Madrid. It was cold as shit that December and we were a block or two from the prado. She was a blond. And I coulda sworn she had my eyes zeroed in from her gaze even though we had a football field between us. And she did. But I didn´t have the guts to do anything but look back. After ten paces or something of her having passed.

Love is a duel.

But that´s Kerouac´s line. Still.

I always think about that girl, once a month or something. I´ll never see her again in my life. And she´ll always be walking along just that little stretch of sidewalk. And no matter how many times I went back to the Prado just to find her, she was never there. But she was, too. Haunting that block.

Here you get a crack at those. They stop. And insteada having your insides dragged through mud on acct of cowardice you gotta buck up. Or smile. I opt for the latter.

Havana´s okay to say goodbye to once you have a bridge to or from it. That´s the difference with this place. There are bridges and tunnels everywhere with these people. Millions. Everything´s conspiratorial. After 2 days on my block I had people from a mile off at, say, an icecream stand, who knew where I lived. It´s a strange feeling.

I just get a kick coming home at night seeing all the girls leaning on balconies. I thought it was just the one across the street from me. Nope. There´s plenty. I keep waiting for one to get pushed off in a fit of rage by a jealous husband so I´ll be marked by the site of it for life... but fortunately it never happens. I might have to use it though in a story. It seems a fitting number one cause of murder over here. Or something.