Pico de Orizaba

Pico de Orizaba
Taken from Huatusco, Veracruz, the closest town to Margarita's family's ranch.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013


Today I prepared a Banana-Nut cake with Lime and Coconut... Between fatigues and coughs and laying me downs... I imagine I prepared it for my brothers-in-law José Francisco and Nicolas Federico so just in case we move back into the pastry business one day... I didn't paint, although I painted all last night.  A very interesting painting.  Supposedly myself as an adolescent... headless, because it didn't fit in the square, holding my colon in my hands, a very nice job of my scar.  But, today I didn't resume.  Because of the illness or the sickness... I imagine not the disease, although at this point you can't really know.  4 days sick and coughing.  I dropped 2 kilos in 2 days; 5 pounds of water, yellow water.  What became of the solid food I ingested?  I guess I just burned it away in the not sleeping due to cough.  They loved the cake.  For me too sweet.  Someone said that cancer feeds on sugar.  Someone not living with us.  And I mentioned that most illnesses feed on that sweet substance.  I've never been a sweet tooth; always savory and filling before sweet.  But, Margarita has been making guava juice for me these days.  And today she cut a papaya.  Not a fruit on this planet with higher concentrations of Vitamin C than these two.  But, for some reason, this time around I don't kick the sickness and it hit me like a summer squall at Long Beach Island.  She mentioned that I don't usually get sick.  Maybe it was from a late evening shower.  But, I don't believe Veracruz mountain rancher wives tales, since I've always bathed at all hours of the day, especially in New York City/New Jersey summer heat waves.  Body roasting like a chicken at 1am.  Jump in the shower, as cold as possible and jump into bed wet as an otter...  I never got sick.  NEVER.  The only time I've had a fever was from a dirty I.V. needle at Mount Sinai in New York.  And they discharged me almost delirious.  No one knows sick as I had those weeks afterwards; they almost forced fed and forced walked me at my sister's.  I awakened in the middle of the night knowing aspects of death Joey at my side.  My center was a black hole.  I've never experienced a worse nightmare and don't know how I managed to move past those days. Nights... afraid to sleep and awaken dead inside.  This didn't happen 18 years earlier with the first two surgeries. Now back to Stephen Dédalus and James Joyce and a cough or two imagining this too will pass... 

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