Blue shoes scatter the casual sidewalk I encounter on this distant morning. Blue shoes looks at me from a cafe across the street. A woman, a concern she investigates my mood. I decide on a swim. In the ocean that is.
So in my lazy days here I met a couple who were in a combi of older vintage but much like mine. I suspect they were trustafarians but I could be misjudging. So I took them to see a film in a theatre that was a converted garage run by a gringo who likes movies. He was screening Harold and Maude. When I was 20 I loved that film. Now it showed its age but the kids loved it. They kept at me for days in thanks of seeing this little film in the garage. Even the Cats stevens soundtrack was to their appeal.
So my last missive was a bit bleak. Drug war. I thought I had to discuss it. But on a brighter note. Mexico continues to enthrall as the people I meet are generally a delight. I read some B. Traven in Spanish that was good for me to do. Traven is an inspiration and he was writing in a second language. So it was good for me to read. To secure me in another language.
I have been meeting a lot of young people as I seem to be of their ilk but not like them. That is I am old they are young. When I met the trustafrians I was reminded of a story by Robert Hunter. He wrote all the lyrics for the grateful dead. He said that on a tour he was in Paris and wrote box of rain and three other songs in a day fueled by a case of wine and the pleasure of Paris. He said "those days will be back, not for me but for someone".
Ah the youth and their pleasures.
