No recuerdo… (Ya no viene el cavador que cavaba en el venero)
No recuerdo… (Sobre la mina han caído mil siglos de suelos nuevos)
No recuerdo… (El mundo se acabará. No volverá mi secreto)
– Juan Ramón Jiménez
Yo recuerdo demasiado…. Pero al final – de repente – no se recordará.
Lo que escucho en este momento.
UNKLE, “In a State.”
Which state?
I took the photo, at top, in 1983: Kneeland, California. I scanned it in 2007. It’s not edited in any way, except the vast sky has ended up slightly cropped.
I wrote some poetry. I’m not going to post it. Deal with it.
I pan-roasted an almost-perfect yellow bell-pepper (which Koreans call 파프리카 [paprika], after the German) and made a “from-scratch” vegan vegetable/marinara sauce, which I served over rice for my xmas dinner. I ate it with a cup of red wine – an 8 dollar bottle of Chilean shiraz that was on sale at the supermarket across the street in the basement of the 태영프라자. It was good.
What I’m listening to right now.
Glen Campbell, “Gentle on My Mind.” Haha. Country music. I don’t listen to much of it, but I always liked this rendition by Glen Campbell.
The lyrics.
Gentle on My Mind
It’s knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch And it’s knowing I’m not shackled by forgotten words and bonds And the ink stains that have dried upon some line That keeps you in the backroads by the rivers of my mem’ry That keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It’s not clinging to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that bind me Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walking It’s just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiving When I walk along some railroad track and find That you’re moving on the backroads by the rivers of my mem’ry And for hours you’re just gentle on my mind
Though the wheat fields and the clotheslines And the junkyards and the highways come between us And some other woman’s crying to her mother cause she turned and I was gone I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face And the summer sun might burn me till I’m blind But not to where I cannot see you walking on the backroads By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of of soup back from a gurgling, crackling cauldron in some train yard My beard a roughened coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face Through cupped hands round a tin can I pretend to hold you to my breast and find That you’re wavin’ from the backroads by the rivers of my mem’ry Ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind
