This used to be a barren hillside. Around 1961 or ’62—think proto-hippie, hard-core, early lefty-artsy-sure-I’ll-try-some days when you could almost buy an old adobe with the money on your hip—a tiny enclave did arise. At one time or another, neighborhood residents included a well-known photographer, Krishnamurti’s ex-girfriend, a couple of jazz musicians, Jerry Garcia’s ex-girlfriend, [...]
Llano Quemado
7,000 feet and don’t you forget it
You can’t say we haven’t done it. Well, you can, but that would be wrong. I will forever be proud. If anyone ever mentions “old Taos,” this is what they mean. It does work. Inside thick adobe walls, we almost never hear a thing outside. It’s cozy in winter, even if the wood stove and [...]
Staring me right in the face
This one’s from yesterday. I was falling apart from the cold and snow and how we couldn’t get the car out—or was that this morning? All the days begin to feel the same in single digits! But when I walked out to scrape the windshield, something shifted. The frozen powder snow fell off the windows [...]
Almost a foot deep where I’m standing
An old familiar view, freshly photographed. “Old Taos” means mice, spiders, leaks, and dust. No closets. Bad septic. Impossible to clean. On the other hand, not normal.
Northwest corner
Be hold, the dead landlord’s apartment. Relatives took the good stuff seven years ago. Yes, he’s been dead that long. I have a key and permission. His niece gave me everything that’s left. All this. The upended coffee table keeps the bathroom door shut. The shelves and sink in there are black with mouse shit. [...]
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