a february so viola and blue gem

The sun has come out, like a spring, and so there is a mood of bounce in the air. Or something, what would GGMarquez say? I just finished his new book Memories of My Melancholy Whores; “In my ninetieth year, I decided to give myself the gift of a night of love with a young virgin.” A good book to read on one's birthday. Mine just passed a few days ago, and so I am a year older. I am listening to the Fruit Bats and in the noisy background, through my wide open office door which floods with warm afternoon light and sucks in the crisp February air, the cryptic sound of some worldbeat hippy gig playing across the street at The Hut. It's some gem show deal, lots of bands, all day and night, flutes and bongos, me and the sun, and the fruit bats. I went for a walk on the Avenue. When I returned to Casa I realized that the three writers who have cars and are staying here at Casa, all rented red cars. All three are parked out front in a shiny red row. They match the sign and the paint of the window frames, it all looks as if it were planned. In a half hour a man who would like to decorate the front wall that faces the street with a mosaic tile construction will come to talk with me about it. He's going to donate it. What a life I live. Is everyone walking down the street living it too? This same life? I can't see how. I haven't written a new word in weeks...but here they are. Like a viola in my head, the strum of a gem, cacti eye, the gradation and...here comes Eduardo.