Wilson Mesa Diary (1977)

from wilson mesa diaries / july 25, 1977

(Note: I was living in the mountains of SE Utah with a man I call the Motorcycle Man / we were the only two people on Wilson Mesa / there were no amenities, no electricity, water, mirrors or clocks. It was the second year. I kept a diary and this is the entry for “today” in 1977. Mostly i wrote about walks i took, birds i saw, wild flowers, what i cooked on the woodburning stove but this day was different) (apparently)

There are days when my mind wanders endlessly down the streets of Rome.

I had a wicker shopping cart on wheels /the kind you pull behind you

I’d take my cart and Tiberio and we would go shopping. First we would stop at the bar-gelateria on the corner of Viale Regina Margherita and Piazza Buenos Aires. You pay for what you want and take the ticket to the marble counter with the brass foot rail. There arent any stools to sit.

I loved cafe latte in bicchiere por favor. Coffe with steamed milk in a glass.

This bar had one of the biggest cafe lattes in town. I’d stand at the bar and sip while Tiberio nestled at my feet among cigarette butts and ice cream wrappers.

I saw the same barmen every day for years but i never knew any of them. I didnt flirt with young Italian men. I was in my late thirties. I was married. I never thought any of them noticed me in particular. I always tried to be inconspicuous in those first years in Rome.

That is, until i went crazy and frizzed my hair and wore long
skirts made out of Indian bedspreads and dangling earrings and bracelets.

One morning one of he barmen spoke to me. “Dove il vichino?” he said. Where is the Viking ?

That was during the winter and spring I had a love affair with a tall young Swedish boy who was 15 years younger than me. We used to stop at that bar for espresso on our way to Villa Borghese and if i dont return to Rome someday i will never forgive myself.

(note from today : instead of going on about the love affair i continue about Tiberio, the dog!) (smile)

Before the love affair I imagined I was inconspicuous but i was probably well known in the neighborhood / shoot / I was married to a spaghetti western actor / when I wore short skirts my legs stopped traffic / I had great legs / and it was stuff like this that led me into a sort of disguise / well, that is until the frizzed hair and turkish harem coats

So Tiberio and me were seen all over the neighborhood and to the outdoor street market where i daily shopped. Tiberio was a poodle / un barboncino / an Italian poodle / a status dog but he didnt have a French poodle hair cut / he was a mop / he looked like a shaggy bath mat.

He understood all his commands in Italian because I thought that way the Romans would also know what we were saying to him. Italians arent particularly comfotable with dogs although Tiberio cd go every where with me even to restaurants.

Not many Italian dogs have human names, like Tiberio. There was a Roman emperor named Tiberio but our dog was really named after Tiberio Mitri who was a boxer (european middleweight champion) we had become friends with the first year we lived in Italy.

This Tiberio like to drink a lot and have a good time and seemed to always be in trouble with ex-wives and girlfriends. He had a crumbling old villa outside of Rome where his mother lived in the kitchen. He was always going to fix up the place. It would have been beautiful but he never had the money to do it and the last time i heard of him was when i saw his picture on the front pages of the newspapers. He was arrested on dope charges. That was when Italian actors bought cocaine by the kilo.

Diaries are boring. I’m beginning to think my whole life has been pretty uninteresting and the only interesting thing I’ve ever done is learn how to write and print legibly while stoned.

fine

if there are any typos or grammaticals they will have to stay as i want to publish this on the same day July 25 as i wrote this originally / and i am tired and want to go to bed as soon as i turn the sprinkler on for the garden.

Nighty Night