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, [...]
old Taos
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 [...]
Herewith a story we can call the reason for the lack of posting. A trifle melodramatic, but mostly true. Winter takes a toll here on the self-imposed frontier. This time it nearly got me.
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. [...]
The wood stove is out of sight to the left, across from the chair with the lamp. There’s a leather sofa on the right that you can’t see, either. We usually eat at the bar. On nights like this—it’s snowing now—I run the stove to keep the room at seventy degrees (21°C). It’s not hard, [...]