Cathedral
Raymond Carver wrote great stories. I liked “Fat” and also “Cathedral” was good.
I just went to the Barcelona Cathedral. Saw people kneeling in order to photograph the place under the place at the front. The hum of a floor waxer mixed with chants from the corner bit where people were actually attending church. I could see the priest in there in his big white coat. There were geese in a pond outside. Carved words and images on the stones on the floor. A pair of scissors carved into one floor stone.
It’s comforting to go into a cathedral. The ceilings are so high. The dead saints are carved in marble lying on their sides. One had a little carved dachshund at his feet. The chandeliers are huge ornate black iron things hanging on chains, and they don’t fall down.
I don’t know anything about that cathedral. I guess I will go to the maritime museum. Already walked to the port and back. Had a nice coffee at a place in the Boqueria market. Watched the man cook a tortilla abd sausages, placing these huge steaming dishes on the counter right in front of me, just getting the food ready for the day. He made himself a little bocadillo with jam and cheese; a corto cafe with milk; and one of the waitresses munched an egg sandwich right there by the cash register. Saw there were many folks pulling little wagons made of plastic bins on wheels, unwrapped chunks of meat and chickens just lying in there open to the world, bouncing along over the cobblestones. I didn’t try any pastries; nothing really sounds good although it looks delicious. Coffee is enough. I’m still getting over a cold; blowing my nose every couple hours, producing half a cup or so of thick snot, and my left ear still a little clogged.
I’m not in the mood for museums really. Maybe I’ll just take a bus around.
I feel so weird and unlike myself. I am writing here like I’d usually write in a paper journal. I wonder if anyone will read it but I don’t care. I need to change. I’m tired of old me.
Feeling much better today I think because I changed out of those dumb nylon pants. I need natural fibers on my legs. Heh.
I also trimmed the nylon backing from the pocket I sewed into my fleece. It was making a stiff crinkling noise that I didn’t like.
All my money and passport are in my secret belt, and my phone and almost empty wallet I’m keeping in that inside pocket. Not carrying any bag or purse. No pen. Hanky yes.
Sitting now in the hostel common room. There are two guitars here. Maybe later I play.
I just went to the Barcelona Cathedral. Saw people kneeling in order to photograph the place under the place at the front. The hum of a floor waxer mixed with chants from the corner bit where people were actually attending church. I could see the priest in there in his big white coat. There were geese in a pond outside. Carved words and images on the stones on the floor. A pair of scissors carved into one floor stone.
It’s comforting to go into a cathedral. The ceilings are so high. The dead saints are carved in marble lying on their sides. One had a little carved dachshund at his feet. The chandeliers are huge ornate black iron things hanging on chains, and they don’t fall down.
I don’t know anything about that cathedral. I guess I will go to the maritime museum. Already walked to the port and back. Had a nice coffee at a place in the Boqueria market. Watched the man cook a tortilla abd sausages, placing these huge steaming dishes on the counter right in front of me, just getting the food ready for the day. He made himself a little bocadillo with jam and cheese; a corto cafe with milk; and one of the waitresses munched an egg sandwich right there by the cash register. Saw there were many folks pulling little wagons made of plastic bins on wheels, unwrapped chunks of meat and chickens just lying in there open to the world, bouncing along over the cobblestones. I didn’t try any pastries; nothing really sounds good although it looks delicious. Coffee is enough. I’m still getting over a cold; blowing my nose every couple hours, producing half a cup or so of thick snot, and my left ear still a little clogged.
I’m not in the mood for museums really. Maybe I’ll just take a bus around.
I feel so weird and unlike myself. I am writing here like I’d usually write in a paper journal. I wonder if anyone will read it but I don’t care. I need to change. I’m tired of old me.
Feeling much better today I think because I changed out of those dumb nylon pants. I need natural fibers on my legs. Heh.
I also trimmed the nylon backing from the pocket I sewed into my fleece. It was making a stiff crinkling noise that I didn’t like.
All my money and passport are in my secret belt, and my phone and almost empty wallet I’m keeping in that inside pocket. Not carrying any bag or purse. No pen. Hanky yes.
Sitting now in the hostel common room. There are two guitars here. Maybe later I play.
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