A 24-Bar San Juan Blues
1.
…or you could get caught in the rain on the way to Old San Juan by the capitol w/ no restaurants or cafes to duck into just standing under a flamboyán tree in the Hernán Díaz plaza watching all the cars heading back into town so many cars why did I think an island would have less cars but its América—yes—earlier tho partly cloudy at the old San Jeronimo fort balneario for the locals w/a small beach + bikinis but mostly rock + waves + scoogies—me barefoot locals wearing shoes if not in water—this too América or western culture or world culture of shoes—here also locals use umbrellas contra Portland or Seattle—decide you/ll get wet anyways sitting here so keep caminando get to old San Juan soon shouldve just kept walking + only rain—more mist than anything + not cold nor was the sea—turns out not everyone uses umbrellas maybe just politicians kids—everyone—touristas + locals all ducking in somewhere half-soaked—find a café for a warm drink or two to scribble as always wherever I go I look for cafes bookstores open spaces tho walking just to explore new city tired from overnighter flight—hotel in the regular real San Juan—here tho voilà turista cuteness—some history if you look or even if you dont—San Jeronimo first line of defense before the bigger el Morro fort—both made of huge rock chunks which must have been not easy post-Younger Dryas flood of wiped out sound technology because Caribbean used to be one big island on Piri Reis map before sea rose 300 feet as in the Bimini Road—Puerto Rico having the same kind of stone ball court as Chichén Itzá tho still unclear if the winners or losers were sacrificed
2.
FUERA GRINGOS graffiti seen today tho I am en realidad puertorequeño by birth if not blood—my father stationed on the old Roosevelt Roads Naval Base—since closed + converted to a local airport but back in the day from where Viejes Island was bombed—my mom remembers watching explosions from our house while locals were living on the other half of the island—the bombed part now a federal nature preserve w/unexploded ordinance + destination for the superrich in their super yachts tho also dirtbag backpackers can stay at a hostel but the rich always stay in nice places on coasts while the poor always live inland tho San Juan a regular town—a little ragged still from two recent big hurricanes—more than a few empty condemned hotels rotting away w/farther history of rum sugar rubber slaves between USA + Africa
I/ve never come back since we left when I was two not sure why—tho I joke about PR being la Matria the Motherland—maybe ashamed to be just a white colonialista gringo? and/or desert rat not island chupacabra or coquí frog—learned mi español in Mejico + España which San Juan reminds me of—rain has stopped—people have stopped running + hiding their heads—resting my feet for the long walk back into town—need fuel + a frozen margarita to collapse at hotel—what to do in the morning + walk in what direction—see what happens unplanned better than planned—like life
3.
or yr passport can disappear somehow tho tucked in manpurse—not end of el mundo b/c I/m americano + PR is América—I can get home on my Oregon drivers license if that survives so oh well seguimos adelante tho on day of sort-of rest in which I buy books on Puerto Rico history + social commentary w/general understanding that PR government is corrupt of course—more corrupter than my state government tho maybe not federal tho FEMA + feds made el Hurucán Maria worse + people diedmore than a menudo from the response than the disastre b/c DC doesnt care so support of an independent PR has grown to about 50% ahora tho many factions even on the remain side from commonwealth to statehood—I would just fear that an independent PR would end up like Haiti b/c América does not like independent countries—bad for business but if yes to statehood heres my proposal—five new states at once—PR Guam Virgin Islands + the other two territories I/m forgetting—theyd actually be able to ‘vote’ for president like we supposedly ‘vote’ plus ten more senators which could be a decent block if AIPAC doesnt get them first but yes to independence—cant be any worse than it is now unless Haiti-ized but take a walk east around the univerity which I never even see down into real Puerto Rico feeling mighty white in my shorts + sandals—mucha gente en poco espacio w/vehicles parked on sidewalks—more abandoned buildings from Maria and/or afterwards—back to mi barrio Santurce the bookstore has the best té verde w/quaint café + the barista doesnt give me side eye for a hot water refill—can read Palabras para un flamboyán by Ana Teresa Toro—what does it mean to be puertoriqueño + to think w/ones whole body
4.
I have heard the coquis! Even here in the city theyre in trees—the young sound like spring peepers (or maybe different frog?) of back home(s) but they sound like theyre spelled—coquí coquí—like waterdrops—preliminary taste of supposed puerto rican food not quite great—the ‘cod’ leathery (do cod even swim down to the Caribbean? answer: no—cheap salted cod was shipped down to feed slaves in the Caribbean + has remained a staple every since) also here ‘rice + beans’ means white rice with hotdog beans or thats what they feed the gringos but I will persist happy to have chosen a hotel correctly to be in Santurce arts district rather than isolated up on Beach Hotel Row like Spring Break—back to hotel to listen to Mendelssohn quartets + rain / coconut oil + ibuprofen for feets reading scribbling—when I asked one Uber driver if he wanted independence he said no that things were fine como así so I asked if he minded not being able to vote for presidente y me dijo que no y que pronto
he was going to move to Florida so he could vote then tho not for the upcoming election which he said didnt matter that both candidatos were equally bad which I had to agree—another driver said he was an estadista—statehood for PR—didnt seem to understand when I said I didnt think the US govt cared
but he also didnt understand mi idea of cinco estados a la vez—entonces probablemente no me explico muy bien como siempre but sunny Puerto Rico—gonna rain next ten days overcast tho somehow I/m still getting sunburned face + neck even w/sombrero—my redneckness inevitable tho ponytail protects the back—I meant earlier spanish colonial arquitectura of narrow cobblestone alleys + small iron balconies from arched rounded windows in Old San Juan like Antigua Guanajuato Mallorca Puebla Santa Fe—I guess the spanish are gringos too but a more preferable look of colonialism—I laughed at a NPS video about puertoriqueños thinking that when the US took over that it might bring democracy to the island
5.
on to the most turística thing to do in San Juan—el Morro Fortress along w/the San Cristobal Fortress east—the two enclosing protecting Old San Juan back in the day—major engineering of rock—dont know how they did it even with slaves + exploited taínos just crazy big stone walls tunnels w/view/shot across harbor entrance—never actually taken (I think? except maybe for two months by british) until Spain lost the Américano War + ceded the whole island—used by US Navy in WWs I + II against supposed german u-boats but imagine sleeping on a pallet on some wood w/a bunch of other guys snoring + farting + never leaving but hearing waves for years not caring about the rest of the island or imagine taínos living a tranquil life post-Younger Dryas flood when huge boats come out of the east w/firesticks + disease so there I/ve acknowledged original inhabitants—my virtue is signaled—in these strange times when Israel is carrying out its final solution I/m suddenly on the side of (some) liberals again for a free Palestine when they would be horrified to find that I/m horrified at them for their support of ukrainian nazis—friends of nazis are nazis—or horrified to find the recent lockdowns were all a farce—people/s lives ruined people dying from the supposed vaccine—I dont even know where I stand anymore—always leftist—confused to find even anarchists communists socialists in América obeyed government lies + defend nazis loyally but I still want healthcare4all free education4all reproduction rights—want a free Palestine from river to sea but dislike islam as I dislike christianity judaism + most recently zen buddhism—oh my god I havent thought about this shit for days it was nice—garlic chicken for lunch leathery too—they like it así—but get the fried plantains instead of french fries I tell you
6.
or you can go see Niña Pastori at el Centro de Bellas Artes tho theyre unable to sell tickets at the door because ‘el sistema’ is down until finally miraculously they just give you a ticket gratis fifth row middle when you were prepared to pay anything for a balcony but to see if not the élite de PR then los élites de cultura alta—everyone dressed up in their finery to see + be seen whereas you—or I—am in t-shirt (tho black) bluejeans grey flannel—at least I wore shoes—or rather moccasins all I have—fan of Niña Pastori since hearing her played in a record store decades ago in Salamanca—still have + listen to her first album Entre dos puertos tho she went more pop rather than nuevo-flamenco altho she still sings flamenco too + in fact begins the concert w/just her + a flamenco guitarist but does have a full band even if sounds like some drums + backing vocals prerecorded? no! but yes—thats a computer center stage by the pianist! still the real drummer is really good + also plays percussion for some canciones—kind of drummer who can start a fill two measures out + you lose the beat youre like wheres the beat wheres the beat then splash youre back in + dancing—Pastori/s husband plays percussion + guitar + two female backups one of whom also does a little flamenco dancing at times tho more posing than dance—meanwhile everyone around me keeps filming w/their phones for little clips like my dudes no one wants to see yr halfass badsounding videos of Pastori youre more concerned w/proving you were here than enjoying la música—not todo el mundo but quite a few but Pastori has the pipes—she still sings flamenco even over pop—grown middle-age men + especially women raising arms singing along—others in audience call out songs from that first album but alas no go tho for the encore Pastori gathers the whole band to clap rhythm while she improvises a bit w/the guitarist old-school flamenco style which sends us all out into the humid night coquí coquí coquí
7.
or on the way to another museum you can get caught in buckets of rain w/thunder so stuck under an overhang—dont worry even the locals are too—an umbrella wouldnt save you—watch the roosters who are apparently the holy cows of Puerto Rico running around even here downtown Avenida Ponce de León—good thing the weather forecast only said 10% chance of rain I/d hate to see what a 100% would look like—probably María—or you can wonder what it means to be puertorican—born here not enough? I wonder if people born on the mainland to PR parents feel puertorican? does it depend on how many times youve come back? or visit? from what I can tell some people speak americano sin accento but imperfect spanish + some switch between the two + some speak español solamente con poco inglés—hard to tell since I get treated like a tourist almost immediately—if I/m proactive + speak spanish sometimes they will but one little slip + they switch to english even if their english is bad—rivers in the street at this point—shouldve stayed in my hotel room but that can be sad + depressing tho it all can be sad + depressing no matter what you do tho maybe this is why it took so long to come back b/c I didnt want to feel like an outsider where I was born? tho being born on Roosevelt Roads Naval Base is to be nacido outsider—all I need is a puertoriqueña to give me shelter from the storm—company for another week or so—put my tongue in her navel—los gallos loving the rain + more thunder + its coming down—this might be the part of the trip I remember most fondly tho I suppose I could have stayed in Salem caught in the rain there too / feel equally an outsider there like everywhere I go so I keep going—other interesting people on the move too so we keep missing each other—been a long time since I rock n rolled tho take many strolls—
so much
depends
on a red rental scooter
glazed w/rain
beside
los gallos negros
8.
or you can return to Old San Juan hit up a couple more museos walking around narrow cobblestone streets eating drinking too much alcohol tho it helps to deal with the turistas everywhere—you are not of them—you lose count the number of times youve seen GRINGO GO HOME graffitied—tho as someone—I assume a gringo—wrote back: GRINGOS BRING MONEY TO PR—even if PR gained independence theyd still need tourist dollars coming in or what if they closed off the country to self-sufficiency? visiting a supermercado anoche the produce section bad—cant believe this fertile island couldnt grow decent oranges—the bananas ok but not from here—they have to import bananas??? even the fried plantains I eat every other meal? no puede ser—el Morro the big sacrifice here—all the turistas go there then walk around get dehydrated sunburned drink piña coladas get back on the boat or Uber back to fancy hotel—kind of heartbreaking to see old taxi drivers sitting idle unable to compete w/cheaper Uber drivers which I also use (yes + I had a piña colada too—feeling lethargic now) meanwhile Uber drivers seem to have made the gamble to buy a brand new car + pay it off driving 12 hours a day but maybe actually still a better job or just a job period en la brega as I/ve learned from professor Arcadio Díaz Quinones in his ensayo ‘El arte de bregar’ which is a verb unique to PR but common as if maybe knowing how to use bregar might make you puertorican: or being puertorican makes you know how to use bregar which means something like ‘making it’ as in, ¿cómo estás? making it/en la brega—tho also used as sexual innuendo as couples can bregar—tho means so much more + I have yet to hear anyone say it or use it around me—do we make language or does language make us but its super sábado! back to hotel for second siesta + seek refuge at the bookstore café—I/m just not the partying kind tho would gladly go to a jazz bar
9.
hay otros aquí en el Bookmark café of introverted readerly writerly ilk—three other dudes—just a bunch of writerly dudes today—so they do exist in Puerto Rico somehow against all odds—of course I always wonder what living in a place would be like wherever I go even in a place I live I wonder what living there is like but I spoke too soon—a player-of-videos-on-their-phone has arrived—they seem to be numerous here and/or the speakerphone talkers—you cant escape human egos when around humans—oh well I/m grumpy perpetually dehydrated missing playing my double bass which would probably crack into pieces in the humidity—Pablo Casals fled Franco Spain came here (cellist virtuoso who discovered the Bach Cello Suites in a shoebox) founded their symphony + remains a national hero—alas I arrived right at the end of classical music season—but I like piña coladas + getting caught in the rain + have half a brain—Hunter S. Thompson lived here a while + knocked out The Rum Diaries—Star Wars soundtrack on repeat—normally they play latin covers of rock songs like ‘I Was Made For Loving You’ which actually sounds a lot better than the KISS original tho in the movie Fall Guy when it came on I was like fuck yes lets goooo! spanish-american war had huge implications we barely learned in school—one empire gone, another arose + now the sun never sets on the Américan Empire—no one except rich people like our government anymore—could the dream of Bolívar y el Che of a united South America ever happen? not if the CIA has anything to say about it + oh they do they do so I guess I/ll go back to my hotel room + Netflix and chill which—alone—means to actually watch something on Netflix and/or read Levittown, mon amour by Cezanne Cardona puertoriqueño grit lit—even one of the dudes writing all this time now playing phone videos—time to walk the rice paper w/o leaving a trace for me to leave
10.
on a day of rest I do what I would do back home more or less—cant play my bass or guitar so read in a café or cafes—morning + afternoon—read more Arcadio Díaz Quiñones about the arte de bregar which changes with context + person + even class but seems to mean survival/maneuvering between or around obstacles w/o confrontation or conflict which sounds like taoism + applies mostly to middle + working class tho he also spends some time thinking about how essays are its literature form—the try/s or tests of finding a path w/words in the world or mind—which I would say applies to poetry? it must? but what about fiction? fiction seems to bregar in an imaginary world of the mind of the world—but learning more of what I/m seeing here about the separation of classes—the elite speak both english and spanish + send their kids to college in the US + look down on/are completely separated socially from those who only speak spanish—also looking down on those who come from the US + speak imperfect spanish tho everybody apparently hates the dominicans who come here for work—this bookstore a weird example—books in english + spanish side by side tho the more popular ones come by way of the spanish-from-Spain branch of Penguin books w/one sección for local writers where I found Díaz Quiñones + Levittown and Palabras para un flamboyán—college/high school kids switching back + forth which I am so jealous of—some people seem to like when I insist on speaking spanish even if I make mistake—others switch to english as soon as I make said mistake or hear my accent—nevertheless I persist + we talk to each other in our bad spanish + english—or this morning at a restaurant la mesera got angry at my spanish / walked away asked some other mesero to handle me in english so as my revenge I kept speaking to him in spanish which he understood even if/as he kept trying english + both of them ignored me after like damn I/m not one of those bitcoin billionaire assholes invading—córtame some slack—yesterday some guy on the street asked me if I was español which I loved—he knew I didnt look like a tourist but wasnt puertoriqueño—I/ll take it—el truco is to not wear shorts—only a nobody wears shorts in San Juan
11.
but still thinking of how writing an essay is bregando—working thru given grammar restrictions w/o conflict tho shouldnt an essay always invite conflict? is an essay then just surviving-thinking within given boundaries? seems like only an academic would think that—also still reading Ana Teresa Toro about how we learn w/our bodies—our own + together w/her dislike of online learning +—implicit—
lack of learning during 20-21-22 lockdowns—feeling that for some remote students in huts in rainforests its better than nothing tho shes not sure nor am I after finally having to teach an online class how awful I felt for my students after having technically passed without ever meeting—they wrote their essays watched my videos but I didnt feel they were ready—I/m exaggerating—theyll be fine—I guess—not even remember our class in five years when in fact the real problems were with two in-class puertorican students who came all the way to western Colorado on bullshit partial baseball scholarships—lied to that they might get noticed by scouts when they lost every game tho probably not even the language barrier but bad k-12 schooling / that ‘research’ was copying whole paragraphs from wikipedia + tho I was proactive they just never believed they could have original thoughts + opinions of their own—should have failed the class but the Dean + viceprez saved them b/c athletes—any of the local rural white kids doing the same thing wouldve failed—but I had a third puertorican student who had the same problem but once he learned he could write what he wanted his whole world changed—then took my creative writing class + wrote odd funny stories based in Puerto Rico—thinking too about Toro’s idea of using our bodies to write + think—using our bodies to communicate with each other in person rather than on screen—where does the mind end? in the skull or the tips of our fingers + toes
12.
going over numbers in my head in my bed last night about el Yunque—Uber to and from the airport the rental care w/probably insurance all to drive an hour + a half one way to walk two hours in the forest in possible heavy rain and/or heavy mist which would defeat the trip—finally gave myself permission to not do it w/permission to come back—do maybe the non-San Juan Puerto Rico back roads trip—holy shit! just realized this Bookmark café has a huge photo print of none other than Charles Bukowski on the west wall looking actually dignified holding his old typewriter scarred face looking old + sad—his selected poems (en inglés) here in multiple copies—with me irreverently like he always has been wherever I end up
I/ve gone to the local hotspot La Placita a few times for dinner—plaza of bars + restaurants where locals + gringos go to dance—went last night for dinner thinking on domingo wouldnt be bad
but that was the loudest most populated I/ve seen it so turned around + left—dont like feeling alone in a crowded place while everyone else has fun—Niña Pastori was alright a jazz bar would be alright even a punk bar—giving myself permission to take it easy hangout in the 787 café mornings take mandatory nap then do one San Juan-y cultural thing with a second hanging-out at the Bookmark café for reading + writing—concerto at the Conservatorio de Música this afternoon—thinking about class divisions of spaces here how they exist back home—rich people come to Bend to ski while the service class has to live in Prineville—rich people do yoga at wineries poor people dont exercise at all says the guy who flew to PR staying two weeks eating well—I dont know maybe I/m bregando as best I can—saved a months rent by moving out early—get back to road trip camping down south for new fire lookout job—
I am not rich but not trapped by leases + debts either—en la brega
13.
last night ordered a breaded fillet de mahi mahi + el mesero asked me if I wanted something besides the side salad—I said papas fritas so basically ended up w/expensive fish + chips plus felt almost obligated to get a gintonic which lead to two—best food I/ve had is the peruvian-asian fusion place on the corner—trying to figure how I could have convos w/my spanish friends way back in Ann Arbor discussing foreign policy + Walter Benjamín enjoying their jokes when here I can barely order lunch—mi accento or discourtesy at/of a white dude speaking spanish? but if I keep with it I even get some smiles from meseras—thats all I want is smiles from women all my life smiles from women but a pleasant unexpected afternoon at el Conservatorio de Música with graduate piano students giving a concert outnumbering the audience—each player getting 5-10 minutes to do their best Chopin (mostly)—ten dudes + one young woman who all play well including one young hulking dude who has to lower the bench waaay down + still makes the piano small—everyone else dressed in black but he/s in white jeans + blue + white sailor shirt but just pounds out the B’s Patética sonata (as the B intended) pounds out Chopin’s Estudio Op 10 no 4 in D# minor also nice—I/m an aficionado of any percussive music in minor keys
caught in the rain again coming down in huge waves all day—what do the beach people do? probably head to Viejo San Juan get drunk in freezing bars—I didnt bring that many black shirts because I thought theyd be hot but in fact lots of people here wear black + darker colors to cover sweat (though also some cute goth chicks even in black leather boots) tho I/m sweating more than most tho also walking more—my hair could go full dandelion puff here if I didnt ponytail
14.
reading lectures given by Juan Gabriel Vásquez in 2022 at Oxford on fiction + the novel + its value—writer I/d never heard of because silo-ed in US lit mostly even tho I read books in spanish if from B&N tho this guy world-renowned at least in spanish speaking world—his main gist (so far) is the novel allows us to know others w/a minor pushback against those who argue that novelists should only write about themselves which sounds crazy but is a thing even an intent of writers of ‘auto-fiction’—idea being to not appropriate (esp white male authors) lives of others so am reading his most recent collection of short stories + jajaja—all the narrators are male writers from Colombia tho telling stories of others theyve met—one sticks with me since the story of another guys story sounds true w/all the details that seem un-makeable-up but Vasquéz in his way shaking his finger at us (at me) to say you see thats me fictionalizing which makes me think of two things—first Vasquez from Aliens—lets roooock!!!—second about the guy I talked to in Espresso Royale café in Ann Arbor when I hung out there a lot + saw him speaking spanish w/the spanish meet-up group patiently putting up w/all the 1st year students messing up estar y ser—as the cold weather came most people moved to the back of the café but I still liked sitting in my little corner watching people walk by on State—one time he + I were the only ones up front so I nodded said hola + he invited me to his table he was in his 50s said he was from Chile—I/d been there so we talked about los Torres del Paine—he said he had been a captain in the Chilean air force—I did the math in my head—that put him in the military during Pinochet—I didnt say anything but mentioned I/d gone thru Argentina which started him telling me about the Malvinas War back in 1982 + that the the british navy used a small atomic bomb on the argentine navy + he said this quietly + sincerely + I dont know why he would lie about that
15.
one week wouldnt have been enough here but two weeks maybe too much in the sense of having done all the cultural stuff I could + now a routine—doing what I/d do if I were living here (+ didnt have to work) reading books hanging out in cafes people-watching scribbling plus eating expensive every night as my vacation treat tho wouldnt do so normally tho do feel like maybe I eat out too much in real life but one needs treats when alone—lost my desire to take long walks now that I/ve been caught in rain so much like yesterday trying to get to another Conservatorio concierto late + confusion about start time so just walked back soaked—I almost wrote ‘home’ there as if a cheap hotel was my home but not far from my US life where I just rent a room in a house living like a college kid at 55 all so I can head to a tower on a mountain in the summer look for fire—another big storm about to blow in—high wind dark thick clouds—probably just hole up in my room tonight Netflix + chill w/myself—probably better not to spend so much money tho would if interesting—people at the various cafes are remembering my name now—I/m someone! also buying a shitload of books—started w/puertorican authors but now Vasquéz + thick book of essays by Vargas Llosa I couldnt pass up—gonna have to purge before I go—I travelled light to get here but I too wonder about fiction—seems like here as back home YA fantasy is big—is that still building empathy? maybe? or more escapist? which I/m not opposed to? Big 5 or 4 or 3 publishers just want the next megaseller w/quarter profits—crazy stats that 50% of new books sell less than 2,000 + most less—only hope for you + yr agent now is to sell movie rights yet indie books can be kinda bad + I couldnt selfpublish—I dont have ten friends who would buy my book—I dont have ten friends—which brings a certain freedom to write whatever the hell you want—no one cares
except I send out stuff to lit journals + miraculously some publish my stuff sometimes so I/d like to think that I/m somehow helping create a clearing in the chaos
16.
but food here surprisingly not spicy tho can be tasty—anything marked w/a red pepper on the menu no more spicy than anything else be it churrasco or peruano o mexicano o pollo tropical but yes to fried plantains whenever possible or yucca balls—no real concept of guacamole here but yes aguacates on everything—making the pleasurable mistake of watching solo doublebass players on YouTube reminding me that theres always someone better than you (me)—muchos someones—but also making me love the instrument even more w/its beautiful sounds—giving me the desire to play the Pink Panther theme w/3 other bassists in the woods
at the point in the history book where the US has taken control of Puerto Rico after years of uprisings + strikes against Spain—governor + senate at first appointed by the US president but gradually—not without conflict + one could say conflict was necessary—voting gained back when voting maybe mattered including for women (only who could read) but but but one good thing was free education for all mostly in english yes but sometimes in spanish—what have the romans ever done for us???—after WWII will come the great exodus for jobs to Miami + New York so that now there are more puertoricans in the US than in Puerto Rico—at the point where Roosevelt Roads Naval Base is built / half of Viejes appropriated as bombing range for the navy + if a bomb strays to the other side oops—I dont remember—the only memory I have is of eating pineapple which my mom says I did two-fisted at the age of two—also had a pet gecko to eat the mosquitos in my room—gracias lizard dude! remembering the iguana at el Morro just hanging out in the afternoon grass as curious of me as I of him unless he was a her + unless she wanted food
but Puerto Rico, Guam + the Philippines were the start of the Merican Empire (Cuba was supposed to be too but that didnt work out so well, eh Che?)(eh JFK?)
17.
just scooted into my afternoon café before the afternoon drenching looking thru other activities this final weekend pero nada o nada que no cuesta cara—$100 to kayak in the bay $100 for an airconditioned bus tour of El Yunque w/other gringos—I/d love to be outside exploring but also content to read in afternoon café thinking about Juan Gabriel Vasquézs lectures on la novela y ficción—that fiction fills in the unknowns + what-ifs of history / of the historical novels like War & Peace + 100 Years of Solitude—fills in the secrets + mysteries of people themselves—taking as his mantra the idea of Ford Maddox Ford + Joseph Conrad that biographies should be/are novels + novels biographies—which is funny because Hemingway made fun of Ford in A Moveable Feast but that a novel is a gradual discovering of a person non-linearly so for his examples—Heart of Darkness Great Gatsby Soldados de Salamin—my examples being On The Road or The Lover or Women tho these two ideas of novels are not the only ones (are they?) but he/s arguing (again) against the autobiographical novel—mostly I see latin american fiction as interested in these big idea novels being conservative (possibly politically too) + traditional like Garcia Márquez tho my favorite contemporary novel from Columbia is Rosario Tijeras by Jorge Franco which is a gradual discovering of a person non-linearly but which might point to my ultimate parting with Vasquéz: class—I tend to like stories from the street + working class at least these days for example Levittown, mon amour more than Vásquez/s stories even as I recognize Vásquez as more full + rich + big idea-y but there’s no humor—nor in Vargas Llosa nor Garcia Marquez—Levittown has irreverence towards the fucked up world especially himself just like Bukowski so what I/m arguing is Levittown is—I want to say american but southamericans think of themselves as americanos too so as part of the United States which is weird since the first novel of irreverence was Don Quixote
18.
this young man working in the café completely bilingual could be working for the United Nations—puertoriqueños could be interpreters + translators for the world—or at least most of the western hemisphere—leaders if language is power which maybe its not but maybe it is a way to translate the world which is why Heidegger thought poetry was the most important art—creating the world—maybe—as Vásquez writes—the novel translates that creation in an understandable way tho I keep thinking novelists could be the ones to interpret the Narrative or Narratives that we/re fed by the MSM + politicians + rich—I keep thinking that but am always disappointed—Stephen King Margaret Atwood most recently Bonnie Jo Campbell whose American Salvage I reviewed + loved but who loyally votes blue no matter who + takes her MRNA boosters—I would have liked to read Vásquez on the last three or four years—he says early on that he postponed his lectures two years or so so that they could be given in front of real people not a screen which hints at something since only centrists/liberals embrace zoom meetings (which tends to allow only a certain few people + opinions to dominate meetings) I/m not hating Vásquez at all—loving his lectures—enjoying his short stories but will leave the book here when I go—as my bumper sticker says—I/d rather be reading Bukowski—but thinking about novels—I/ve written five or seven over the decades—no interest from anyone on them but I enjoyed writing them—dont want to try another unless I felt it would be different in form or style—interested more in the secrets of people than any big-idea historical novel plus I need to cultivate more irreverence—especially toward myself—which is weird to think about playing music—can you be an irreverent player? Shostakovish? Zappa? SOD? I actually do revere music + confess that I do revere literature—meanwhile the afternoon rain is drenching everything + everyone—the few of us who made it to the café waiting it out
19.
then Vásquez comes in in the last lecture to say exactly what I was saying that beyond filling in the secrets of history + people novels are places of rebellion which question grand Narratives with counter narratives—that novels are or should be subversive—not on purpose or intention (he quotes an interview w/Garcia Marquez saying intending makes a bad book) but his big example Don Quixote which questions assigned places in society—I wish he would give more modern examples tho I suppose I have them—Faulkner/Morrison subverting race relations—Hemingway questioning war—Kerouac subverting 50s postwar conformity—Thompson the 70s—Woolf subverting ‘proper’ british family life—Conrad colonialism—none of them planned it—they just wanted to tell good stories so yes I agree w/Vásquez/s conclusion even as I doubt it—most literature (even the literary kind) reflects society maybe this is where the idea that the bad stuff gets forgotten soon leaving the important subversive stuff to remain + keep subverting but I have my doubts when corporations control what gets published tho perhaps The Hunger Games is subversive—I just cant think of anything that subverts in this century—Rosario Tijeras—David Marksons last novels subvert the novel itself—The Beach by Alex Garland from the late 90s warning of fascism in liberal dirtbag backpacking set (Garland went on to make films including the great Ex Machina)—I guess writers who write novels want to believe theyre changing the world creating it some ways / poets will say so as will musicians+ theyre right or we want ourselves to be but lets remember to be irreverent—Vásquez also invokes humor as a power fascists dont have or understand—again Don Quixote over everything tho how many novelists are actually funny—Vonnegut/Ed Abbey/Thompson—lots of novelists more funny in their essays: Woolf King Kingsolver DFW—the rain has stopped I/m hungry + want to walk + think
20.
someone did a map of difficultness of every spanish accent in the world + Puerto Rico rated most difficult along with Cuba + Chile—one person claimed he understood brazilians better than chileños tho I remember chileans being relatively easy to talk to but also doing my own experiments in listening in on nearby conversations—with men who seem more working class I really cant but the private high school kids at the Bookmark café yes—people who seem to have spent time on the mainland who speak perfect english—I/d love to know what people here think of their different accents + why (+ how) so maybe I/m not crazy + mi castellano mixed w/un poco de mejicano is strange but also just new + different words like tocineta for beicon or the verb halar for pull instead of tirar so for doors you hale not tire—I dont know if to coger a bus here means to take it or fuck it—I mostly dont have a problem understanding other english accents anywhere except sometimes jamaicans + scots from working class backgrounds—all these words when I also recently saw a short video of a jazz bassist giving a lecture but first playing a really smooth minimalist bluesy solo saying sometimes you just need two notes + played another solo just moving two-note phrase to two-note phrase—beautiful—what if human communication could be like that—minimalist—Bukowski/s poems like that two or three words a line smoothly flowing down the page whereas some dense sonnet moves slow—style more important than content? no: style determines content? maybe a little? content style? Yes segundo super sábado en San Juan just winding down to the end sampling more restaurants still feeling obligated to drink gintonics
21.
domingo—last full day in PR + nothing seems to be open just churches w/people in their finery—oh: Mothers Day—apparently puertoricans really like their madres—wander down to Rubens—local restaurant but I/ve eaten there twice—its open not a lot of cars in the parking lot for a late lunch but when I walk in its like a movie—100 brown faces stop talking turn + stare at me so ok if I didnt get it before this is my answer—to really get the point across the meseras ignore me (tho theyre busy) so I do what any normal americano does on a holiday—chinese food—where they make their tostones w/garlic as the chinese mesera explains to me—two people speaking spanish as a second language to each other successfully—having now really been listening to overheard convos I/m hearing the PR accent
drop the s’s + n’s at end of words a’s + o’s end up ao’s (maybe) so wanting to go for a last long walk I head north sweating my ass off in jeans + make it up to the hotel beach strip—the horror…the horror….loud bad music blasting out of all the bars which here yes are open but I kick off my sandals + walk on the beach—all the overweight bodies + people crammed together on hot lounge chairs—even the occasionally nice body in bikini fleeting + bored-looking—not a lot of swimming on account of the Large Undertoad up here—each hotel patio pumping reggaetón beats—who could nap? everyone just seems paralyzed unable to relax but too drunk to leave—so glad I followed my instincts + avoided this area for a hotel—no wonder locals hate gringos but yes damn sure I stop in the Starbucks for a venti green iced tea packed w/ice which all melts back outside—cutting south back towards Santurce a light cooling rain finally comes back on Avenida Ponce de León + the 787 Café is actually open—soaked with rain + sweat but the café tranquilo so stop + scribble
22.
et voilà Puerto Rico from hot sunny day to torrential downpour—I hope my plane doesnt have to take off in something like this—bad enough its already a Boeing + the door may rip off anytime—decay of Merican Empire infrastructure—walking side streets—lots of abandoned building—houses + apt buildings—have to be from Maria but why never fixed up? San Juan may be the future of the rest of América whether huge solar flare or another bioweapon lab leak or just BlackRock evicting us all + we live out of our cars + no my passport never turned up—hoped I hid it in groggy mind—in all my travels thats never happened + I/d swear it was a hotel employee 90% but could have dropped out (or pickpocketed?) on first day walk but maybe a sign—PR ID gone from day one—but I/ll still have to get another—cant help where I was born even if on a naval base—12 bar blues dont appear in latin jazz or reggaetón—listen for the clave tho—thatll keep you centered in the rhythm—I wonder again what the beach zombies do when it rains—get more drunk retreat to airconditioned rooms staring at screens tho I/ve done that tho something to be said for just staring out the window at rain
23.
at the airport with only good memories—
getting caught in the rain
barefeet in the ocean
Samantha barista at Café Communión
Niña Pastori concert (+ free!)
piano concerto at the Conservatorio de Música
—Beethoven especially
tostones—fried plantains
gintonic after walking in the heat
falling asleep early after 2 gintonics for dinner
Vásquez lectures
Levittown, mon amour by Cezanne Cardona Morales
Palabras para un flamboyán by Ana Teresa Toro
Bookmark bookstore
long walks on side streets
sitting in airconditioned movie theater
that one women in the bookstore who walked out same time as me
classy pants and blouse long black hair holding bag of books
walked same direction but faster—
hating to see her leave but loving watching her go
all the baristas who remembered my name
listening to the rain at night
watching the rain thru a Café 787 window w/nothing to do
writing every day
leaving most of the books I bought at the anarchist street library
Charles Bukowski print at the bookstore
aqueduct sign!
grackles gallos coquís
mellow lizard dude iguana at el Morro
24.
adios…
coquí
coquí
coquí
coquí
[fade out]
— Born in Puerto Rico, John Yohe has worked as a wildland firefighter, wilderness ranger and fire lookout. Best of the Net nominee x2. Notable Essay List for Best American Essays 2021, 2022 and 2023. @thejohnyohe www.johnyohe.weebly.com