Albuq Montage

Self-described as a cook in name only, Michelle has, over the years, developed a finesse with the burrito. This includes, if you look closely, raw mushrooms tucked 'neath a layer of onion. No beans, just some avocado & tomato 'prinkled mit cheeez.

One of my Tuley's heel cups disappeared so Michelle gave me a pair. Suggested years ago by a podiatrist, they relieved the plantar fasciitis. He recommended the large. Their color, turquoise, goes nicely, dōnchewtink?

Many, many eons in the past, Michelle traded with an artist at the SW Arts & Crafts Show for several of his hand-blown drinking glasses. I chose the lavendar for my mix of 2/3 Dr Zevia & 1/3 orange juice (Simply, of course).

One year I was part of the selection jury for the SW Arts & Crafts Show. There were around 200 booths available for god-nose how many entrants. Each submitted three slides of their work. It went on for hours, but when this, titled: Safety of Three, flashed on the screen, I knew I had to have it. 

I interpreted it as an omage, talisman or some form of recognition of my commitment to polyamoury which, at the time, was still new. It still speaks to me. 

I may have included this in a recent post but it got knocked about when turning on the lamp and, I thought, deserved another showing. Michelle's humor atop my display case of heirlooms & treasures.

The cat in his lap is from the Alamo Gallery in Socorro. Among others, the gallery shows the work of the Alamo band of Navajo. They were banished for siding with the Whites and have their own Rez 30 miles north of Magdalena.

Below is my copy of Uh-Oh, Reality Draws Near, one of Michelle's serigraphs. Serigraphy is a fine-art form of printing using stencils and a screen coated with light sensitive emulsion. The process is tedious and most serigraphers, such as Andy Warhol, rarely include more than six to eight colors in their prints. Michelle often used over 35. Achieving the machine-esque similarity in each print meant the number in her editions rarely exceeded 25.

Moon Over the Sandias

 (After Ansel Adams)

One side of Altura Park has sidewalk. At the north end, someone zip-tied a cup of chalk to a post. There're many dogs out walking their owners, but...

Poodle Point

It's two miles around the University's north golf course and in my hey-day I'd go around twice, alternating wind sprints with walking interspersed with an occasional kata.

A poodle and an orange tabby kept an eye on things in the short deadend where we parked. Sometimes Michelle came with me.

Now, thirty years on, the sedentaryness of town life has sapped my remaining energy, but we have, on alternate days, managed small ambles in parks. The deafness of my right ear facilitates enjoyment by reducing the intensity of the city's roarings.

The poodle & tabby are long since gone, but there's a new sign asserting the golf course's demands for respect, your risk of being hit by flying balls and the reminder that there is no "Poop Fairy" and to pick up after your dog.

Pumpkins

It's Albuq; not much to say.

A followup visit today with Doc Wilder, age 31, to reassess my right ear. He's puzzled by why he can't see my right eardrum; something's in the way...not wax. No chance of being seen in the Ear, Nose & Throat clinic anytime soon, but I'm on the list in case they get a cancellation.

Michele only has two cat-sits a day and we've continued to "knock out" errands. Despite the mundanity of it all, we enjoy each other's company. Even after 33 years we hold hands, exchange ideas and laugh alot.

The increase in isosorbide has provided a modicum of more energy. But I'm noticing twinges of angina again, a symptom that's been kept at bay for the past eight months by a religious adherence to a dosing schedule. 

I dreamt of keeling over like a falling tree. There was the briefest of moments, as I hit the ground, when I heard Michelle calling for help, then I was dead. It was blackness; a void; nothing. Hopefully it'll be that quick.

In the meantime the weather's been perfect.

The terra-cotta figure in the background was a gift to my father from the mayor of Munich; one of six made of his daughter, age 16, she was killed in a car accident that year.

Book-hunting

It's the townie version of rock-hounding. 

1:25 pm at Thrift Town:

Carving Pumpkins

A favorite holiday. At the very LEAST we have to carve pumpkins. 

We met at the park; covered the table with newsprint; she pulled out Uncle Bud's Victorinox knife - he died a few months ago just short of his 100th birthday - and we set to work. 

Preparing

I picked a design off the internet & she modified it to my specs.

A young mother walking her daughter home from school stopped to admire. As she left I complimented her on her initiative...what with all the rapists & slave-runners rampant on the streets. She laughed and said, "I live in the real world." 

Hers

Parting

 

Luis Jaramillo - Accordionist

The strap had broken on my new accordion and I wasn't able to get in touch with Tony Tomei, the guy I bought it from. I called The Accordion Club in Albuquerque and they gave me Luis's number.

I told Luis I was only in town for three days and he said, "Bring it by."

He called the next day and asked me to come take a look (see: Accordion Repairs, 22, June). When I arrived the next day to pick it up, I had the afternoon free and we commenced to visiting.

A famous former Mariachi performer and now a gospel singer who performs at churches throughout the Albuquerque Metropolitan Area, I was honored to be able to record these two songs. 

What A Day That Will Be (lyrics & music by Jim Hill)

Yo No Soy De Aqui (I am not from here)

There was not a dry eye in the house.

My Gallery

Across the street is one of 14 super-computers in the U.S. I tried to intetesr them in my national, juried show of digital art (c. 1993) likely the first in the country, but couldn't get past the receptionist.

One of the few times I was thwarted in my endeavors.

Accordion Repairs

I had bought the accordion less than two weeks earlier from Tony Tomei. Throughout, he emphasized I was getting a $600.00 dollar instrument for $450.00. In addition, I got an hour and twenty minute lesson and a beginners book on how to play. 

The strap on the side with the bass buttons was frayed, but Tony said he'd sell me a new one for $30.00 and put it on for free...presumably sometime in the near future. Ten days later the strap was hanging by a couple of threads, but when I passed through Los Alamos Tony wasn't home. 

When I contacted The Accordion Club in Albuquerque they referred me to Luis Jaramillo.

I thought I'd have to leave the instrument with him, but he assured me he'd have it ready the day after next when I planned to leave. But neither of us expected to find that all the black keys were close to falling off. In addition to fixing them he crafted a new strap and repaired a "foot" of one of the white keys that fell off while he was making the other repairs.

He has the black key that fell off in his hand.

Nativo Lodge

There's no valet service.

There's plenty more to say, but I wanted to get this posted. It's my last night here.

The next morning, having loaded my soiled pee pads into the guest laundry, I exited the building through an unexplored door and there, fluttering across the parking lot, was a chick, not a young, human female, a fledgling. I began talking to it and as I drew near, it hunkered down and became still. Cupping my hand, I gingerly covered it and picked it up. It was then I noticed Michael Toya working nearby.

I went over to consult and he pointed out the mother who, he said, had been flying down to the chick and up to a nearby lamp-post where, he surmised, there was a nest. The wind had been blowing pretty hard all morning and the chick seemed a casualty.

After some discussion, we put the chick at the edge of a nearby shrub near the base of the post. There, it'd at least be off the pavement and less likely to be run over.

Returning my attention to Michael I realized he was the artist whose work covered the exterior wall at the base of the building. You can see some of it in the picture above to the left of Phoebe. Michael told how the owners had asked all the artists who'd painted rooms in the hotel to submit proposals for the exterior....and Michael's had been selected.

Eventually, he said, the entire outer facade would be done including the huge, south-facing wall.

I asked about his background. He's from Jemez Pueblo where he'd been raised by his grandparents in the traditional way. He immigrated to Isleta Pueblo when he married.

There was an interesting moment when he paused from our conversation and seemed to assume a more upright stance. He told how they used to hunt Oh-Kee-Dagh, the little bird, a type of finch. He said the male's bright yellow chest feathers were used in ceremonies by his grandfather, but since his death they didn't hunt it much anymore.

The first time he named the bird he made a sound in the back of his throat that I've written as Dagh. The sound was sort of like a cough, but different. After saying it, Michael looked at me as if he expected me to attempt a pronunciation, but he must've seen my reluctance as he then repeated the name but simplified it to: Oh-Kee-Dah....without the problematic, for me, "cough."

I asked about taking his picture and he returned to work.

I'd been gifted with a bit of insider knowledge.

5:30 a.m. Psuedo Instygram

Had to change out the Paw Pad closest to muh penis; hit whar soaked. Leaky li'l devil. Tha's the problem these days. 

Ah tooken a couple uh sleep aids since ah dun bin up mostuh the night. Fortunately, Ms. Cook dohn git free 'til round one o'clock....long 'bout the time ah'll be straightenin' muh tie...cuz, you know, "ev'ry gurl crazy 'bout a sharp-drest man."

Ah'm countin' on awl you new Psuedo Instergram readers tuh hit that thar do-nay-shun button in the upper right tuh he'p with awl these 'spences ah've had thiz past week.

Many thanks to those who've given so generously. You know who you are. We're committed to your anonymity to preserve you from the relentless horde of professional beggars.

New Brakes

OMG!

What a vehicle!

I mean, what with all the health hassles, I have to admit having a shower close at hand was nice. And, due to the noise from the freeway, I slept on the floor outside the bathroom so there was another wall twixt me and the sound.

But I've got my escape vehicle back.

Beef tartare to celebrate

Had to replace the front left caliper.

New rotors

Platinum Ceramic pads.

$674.61. 

Two more nights at Nativo Lodge. Then we'll see how we do.

Camp Shooz

Mike Kelsey, famous backpacker and climber, suggests carrying a pair of shoes to wear around camp. I picked up these TOMS a few years ago for $2.00 and have been pleased with their longevity. But the last year or so the mice have favored the left one and, worst of all, they've taken on an odour.

Among the myriad tasks to complete while in town was/is to find their replacement. Today, car registration and a meeting with a Dakini are taking precedent. First things first! Yah!

 

Arrive ABQ & Nativo Lodge

What an "armpit." My guess is the place gets its renown from manufacturing and marketing the loudest "mufflers."

Ford Mustangs are astoundingly popular. It lends insight into the town's mentality: one that appreciates a car that makes lots of noise while moving at the rate of a 40-hp Volkswagen.

Michelle met me at the locker and helped unload.

Fatigue from shingles made the drive from Quebradas Backcountry Byway difficult.

Pizza 9 for dinner

Staying at the Nativo Lodge - San Mateo & the Freeway.

Nativo's staff is friendly and helpful but the sliding glass doors are single pane and the west-facing side looks out upon San Mateo Blvd and Interstate 25. The single-pane glass does little to mitigate the noise.

 

Day's Inn - Part II

 See previous post for "Introduction."

With the heater off the sounds of Albuquerque were right outside the door. Perhaps it's its proximity to Mexico, perhaps it's just the times, but there seems to be an inordinate fascination with loud -- or no -- mufflers. The blatting of the cars, trucks and motorcycles is noted (I discovered) by other motel residents (not just Day's Inn) who wrote of their experience. And it's only Thursday!

I called the Wyndham reservation line to cancel for the next night and ask for a refund. That took 25 minutes and 11 seconds. Come to find out the fellow that checked me in is the owner. When I'd asked, at check-in, he'd denied it saying "I just work here." (I wanted to know who to blame for the $200 deposit.)

I managed to drift off around midnight only to be awakened at 2:40 a.m. by a manic stroller cruising the parapet. He was either on his phone or, as it sounded, blathering lyrically to himself. He came by twice in the next ten minutes, loud enough to ensure full wakefulness.

The hours crawled by. It actually got quiet for ten minutes around 6:00 a.m.

At 7:00 a.m. I contacted Wyndham Customer Service; it was less than satisfying. The rep called the front desk and said she'd talked with Alley (in case you have the pleasure) and they'd cancelled my reservation for Friday...no mention of refund. When I went to check out and retrieve the deposit, Security was within arm's reach. Alley made no inquiry of why I was checking out, smiling pleasantly while noting they'd cancelled my non-cancellable reservation.

Later, I again called Customer Service to see about a refund. I was told I should've addressed the issues with the Manager and requested a refund from them. There's a chance I'll get a refund in a week after my case has been reviewed by Wyndham and the Manager.

You can imagine AirBnb's investors rubbing their palms together and smiling with satisfaction at their expanding empire.

Day's Inn - 10321 Hotel Ave NE, Albuquerque, NM

My time at the AirBnb ran out and I was on the street. I wanted a place close to Michelle's and thought the Day's Inn, just a couple miles from her house, would be good. 

I've stayed in some interesting places in my time, but what with AirBnb stoking the flames of competition, you'd think they'd have gone out of business.

At the front desk the clerk demanded a $200.00 cash deposit. No mention had been made of it when I booked online. While the exchange over the discrepancy in disclosure was unfolding, I watched a young lady make a bee-line through the lobby in a bathrobe (pool closed; no hot tub). She was followed by an overly polite (Yessir, nossir, sorry sir -- indicative of a stay in the hoosegow) young man wearing shorts (outside temp approaching 30 degrees) and a t-shirt, missing most of his front teeth (knocked out? meth?), who requested fresh towels and sheets. The clerk signaled him to wait. I asked to see the room before paying. He said I had to pay first. By the time I got the money I'd forgotten (encroaching senility).

Then came the rules.

My signature confirmed acknowledgement.

Back outside, Security, a fine, strapping, Paul Bunyan-esque fellow about 6'4" weighing (my guess) 325 pds., advised me there were lots of homeless around and I should take the propane tank & tarp off the roof...lest they disappear.

In the room, the shredded curtains and spotted chair warranted photos. 

Pulling back the bedspread, I picked off some hair stuck to the sheet. Though a bit of an aficionado, I couldn't be certain if it was nose or "other," and whether the adhesive was mucus or "other." I unrolled my sleeping bag atop the bedspread.

Now, at 10:08 pm, the heater's just blowing air and I turned it off; I was hoping it'd help cover the sound of the freeway. The terlit whistles a happy tune as it flushes...but, HUURRAYY!, works just ifne. I've got muh fingerz crosst there'll be hot water in the morning. 

It's only two nights; with luck it'll take longer than that for the bedbugs to realize there's prey. 

Giovanni's

Finding a good "Chicago" pizza in Chicago can be challenging; it's completely hopeless in Albuquerque. But we keep going to Giovanni's.

The photos remind us of Vincent Distasio's paintings. 

And the pizza's so good we can polish off an eighteen-incher (almost calorie-less with nothing but tomatoes, onions and garlic, no cheese, and the thinnest wisp of bread).

Well-fed

Back In the Saddle Again

 Fully restored and running like the Vintage Japanese Hummer she is.

And I? I'm still here. Together we made it into a forest a few miles east of Gallup.

Last supper with Michelle at Siam Cafe

I'm tired. But Michelle thot it a good portrait.

Camp that evening near Ft. Wingate, twelve miles east of Gallup.

Still Kicking

I had an intense 3-hour session yesterday with Charey Fox (4th from top), founder of Together  Source. We've been working together for several years and I continue to be amazed at her ever-deepening skills and ability to enlighten.

I'm in a house that Charey owns and when we've interacted noticed she's seemed preoccupied. Today she showed me a video of her former husband saying goodbye -- from his bed -- to his loved ones. He will "leave us" day after tomorrow.  A month ago he was fine but then, suddenly, didn't feel well. It got worse and recently he was diagnosed with Mad Cow Disease. It wasn't clear whether he has classic CJD or vCJD; both are fatal. 

Arrived ABQ

Arrived around 2:40 p.m. 

Drizzling and warm, but nowhere near the 118.7 degrees up in British Columbia. Ah, well. Like some senator said, "Who needs polar bears, anyway." (I put a period at the end cuz I don't think he wuz really asking.)

I just noticed her tach isn't working. When did that happen? 

We'll go to the carwash and get cleaned up b4 going down to By the Book.