Yeah, ok, the pic has nothing to do with my day but it's well worth $29 (about two bucks). Haven't watched it yet, but the cover and typography alone are worth atleast $20, and it's "a colores." Walked down to the ex-colegio this morning to trim pages for my book. The printmaking staff is on vacation but Derli made arrangements for me to still use the print shop. I'm in! A nice man who guards the Jesuita galleries lives directly across the street, where he and his wife own a very delicious chocolate shop; he let me in. Feels good to be there by myself and cranking their music up way too loud. Surprisingly, the print shop's musical taste is largely Bob Dylan, Janice Joplin, Ray Charles, and Cold Play Live. I spent most of the morning listening to Bob Dylan, cutting Japanese paper and red book cloth. The Jesuita is open from about 9am to 2pm (then, lunch), then it's open from 4-7pm. It's the typical Mexican day. Reminds me of Europe. Seems very humane and very condusive to a creative life. I started my walk home for lunch around 1:30pm, saw a dead fish in the street (looked like a crappie), then walked up Lerin past a man carrying a sink on his head. "¡LAVA...platos!" He yelled something like that, and he had a barotone voice perfect for radio. Amazing, lyrical, beautiful! Hell, maybe he was just crazy; he did have a sink on his head. You see that sort of thing a lot down here. Someone carrying one 2x4 down the street, or three plastic buckets, or twelve bird cages full of tropical birds, or a plastic pail containing one raw, dead chicken. I saw two kids carrying large baskets of pastries on their heads. I made it home before the rain, out of breath (the altitude at the print shop is about 7,200 ft, and Casa Brawner is about 7,500 ft...It inspires a lot of stopping and admiring). Ate yummy leftover pasta, then drove to Tzurumutaro with Becky to pick up a curtain rod and stairwell railing from the blacksmith, then back to the print shop to glue red book cloth to book board. Becky drove on home and I walked up later. On my walk home, I heard Johnny (the blind accordian player at Once Patios), saw some interesting spoons in the street, and some of those funny little discarded plastic prizes Andy was collecting. I'll pick them up on my way down tomorrow. Came home to a house full of doggies sporting pink-tipped ears courtesy of mi esposa —the doggie hairdresser—and chicken boiling in a pot. Then my pal Nemo turned on me, cursed me, and demanded frisbee.
