Book progress journal
Day Eight, "Sea, Rum, Friends"
Day eight of Wild Horse Shit’s final book edits. Worked all morning into the afternoon. While I worked, Alex and Elizabeth went up the mountain to see the waterfall but were turned away by a coral snake sighting. (Do not spend a moment with a coral snake. “Go away from there,” as it’s said in Baldwin.) Marina went off and toured a house with a goddamn conversation pit (my 1970s House Book architectural dream, if you catch my reference).
After work, Nate, Sara, Elizabeth, and I called Oscar and took his taxi down the mountain to the sea (but mostly read on the beach. I’m reading Vincent van Gogh’s letters to his brother Theo. Got through many of his early letters. What you really want is 1880 to ‘90. Before that it’s a lot of theology and youthful confusion. Still good.)
A storm blew in over the sea and we packed up and had rice and beans and Brazilian soda in a little restaurant right off the strand. Called Oscar and went back up the mountain.
Plan was to chill a while and go out on the town, but planning doesn’t feel right out here (and rarely comes to fruition). Better to let each piece of time happen as it happens without regard to schedules or compartmentalization. As long as I get book work done, swim in the sea, eat well, and spend good hours with these people, I’m happy.
We leave the island next week. Might spend a night in São Paulo with Nate and Sara before they fly back to Mexico City. See some city life. Marina wants to go to the mainland on Saturday and watch some live music which sounds nice.
What I want most for this particular moment is to finish typing this, go upstairs, get a glass of cachaça, which is a nice Brazilian rum (adding to that fresh pineapple, lime, honey, and ice), listen to some Caetano Veloso, and unwind.
Tomorrow, who knows. Sea, rum, work, the mountain, the jungle, new mindless jokes, saying dumb things because it feels great to be an idiot, speaking Spanish more and more and a bit of Portuguese too. I know I will look back on this time as a sweet respite in an otherwise troubled year.
Oh, I do as well. I have visited their resting place (side by side); as I wound my way up the hill and along the country road to the cemetery, there was a rolling wind that carried across the fields surrounding Auvers-sur-Oise. I truly felt the movement he was able to capture in his landscapes.
May we all find our own version of "sweet respite." Looking forward to your newest work and I'll put it on my list to read their letters (thank you for the reminder).