The unfaithful, ungrateful, diabolical servant, Maria Martinez (talk about a generic Spanish name) was briefly jailed last Friday and posted bond and has since been released. All week I've been trying to get our lawyer to find a date to get our dog and stuff back.
Monday I signed four copies of an official letter to the judge requesting the return of our possessions, considering that Maria was guilty and did not deny her perfidy. Before composing the letter our lawyer asked me in all seriousness what he should list for recovery. I told him if her read the prosecutor's file there was a two page list of the same. Without embarrassment he said, "OK," and wrote: "All things listed in the prosecutor's file." Hard to find good help anymore. Hard to find good professional help in Mexico altogether.
I called him again today, but he was out sick and not answering his cell phone, which he rarely does, having actually returned two calls in four months. So I called the prosecutor and he's going to meet with us tomorrow to decide on a date to get our stuff back. (Every time I write "stuff" I think of George Carlin).
What that date will be, I don't know, but our stuff is now spread between three of her domiciles and we don't know where Kenyon is.
I will request a police escort for a show of force. After we have everything that remains, if she hasn't sold it all for fun and profit, nor made tacos of our dog, we can get out of here. And return to that enfant terrible to the north.
I've always wanted to eat dog. They have a special medium-size hairless breed here that some keep as pets, descended from the Aztecs. As dog was an Indian delicacy and remains a Korean one, I have an open mind. Besides, a street vender in Morelia was not long ago arrested for serving human tacos; they found a refrigerated torso in his basement, but it wasn't clear that he murdered anyone; he was just trying to lower his butcher's bill, apparently.
I have completed the second draft of my tome on T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets, which weighed in at 35,000 words after Kathleen's edits. Now she's begun editing the third draft, which will appear in the last issue of our magazine, The Melic Review, sometime this month. Many prominent net editors have already sent their condolences on our demise, and we really appreciate it, but it's time to move on and concentrate on my own writing for the sole purpose of filthy lucre.
I have hopes my book-length series of essays on Eliot may be accepted by a university press to ease the undergraduate puzzlement that often afflicts young readers of Eliot. If only it could become a required textbook, I could do well! Unfortunately, at UCLA, I noticed most assigned books were either written or co-authored by the very professors that ordered us to buy them (at inflated prices). And people think the Bush administration insular?
How about that great "State of the Union" speech? Bush has become the green president, and that doesn't just mean the largest budgets and shortfalls in U.S. history. Go, gasohol! Go, solar! Go, golf courses! Go, Green Eggs and Spam!
(It is said that the tides represent the greatest source of energy on earth we might employ; unfortunately, no one has figured out how to harness them, though the occasional Tsunami does try to get our attention.)
I think that's all for today. BTW, Kathleen M. Chaffin will soon be featured in Gary Blankenship's Mindfire, and I'm dem proud of her. Here's the URL for the last issue I know:
Kathleen's out looking for a dress today for our good friend Bill Taylor's 60th birthday party. The poor bastard had his first heart attack at 30 and has had three bypasses. When he says, "I didn't expect to live this long," I believe him. And amazingly, he credits his doctors! So nice to hear someone speak of my profession positively (for a change).
Anybody watch "House" on FOX? It's the first medical show I could tolerate. Rachel, our oldest daughter, recently became enamored of it. She said Dr. House reminded her of a wimpy version of her Papa. LOL!
Now that I'm done with Eliot and we almost have our stuff back I'm more bored than ever. And I was especially disappointed when I rented Terry Gilliam's "The Adventures of Baron Von Munchausen," that Uma Thurman did not appear naked (as Botticelli's Venus) as I had remembered. Only one breast showed. Kathleen was disappointed, too.
A recent quote from my boon companion: "The only thing Craig loves more than me is air conditioning; I guess I don't blow as hard."
When she reads that I know I'm in for trouble, but hey, she said it in public in a mostly male crowd. Sometimes she can be a bit off-color, and it always surprises people, since everyone's impression of her is that of "a real lady."
Thine in Semi-Stasis,
C. E. Chaffin