I’d actually rather not talk about continuations and I ask kindly for you to never mention them again in my presence. If you comply with this request, I’ll be delighted and send you a photograph of my friend Christián being asphyxiated by a wildebeest..
So let’s jump right in.
As I was writing on 1 December, the attractive young woman at Plus Ultra gave me two phone numbers upon my arrival in Logroňo. I contacted Marisa immediately, but left Carmen to go about her life in peace for a time.
The photo above shows Carmen and I having a wild time (well, most likely an absurd and / or silly time) at some café / bar in the center of the city. I contacted her after I broke my relationship off with Marisa. The month was May, I belive, but I may be mistaken.
I sent a series of scurrilous messages to Marisa, as is my way of pushing someone further from the center of my life, because (I think) I felt we were getting too close and I thought (I think) I was not really attracted to her. As are all things in this universe, it was mostly my fault, as I encouraged kisses and hugs. We probably walked hand in hand even then. Marisa was certainly no stranger to affection, however. One of my first memories of her was when I walked her back to her edificio after one of our lecciones and she insisted that I be proximous with her corporal being. I complied and I believe it was the first night we kissed. I also recall walking away, crossing the vacant rotunda in front of that edificio, and muttering to myself: What the fuck do you think you are doing, Bob?
As the once famous and smelly Steve used to say - to make the long and short of it, after that, I ended up contacting Carmen. A few of our meetings in, I made it a point to relate the story of Marisa to her so things would not go awry. Hanging out with her was all I wanted.
As evidenced by the photo, we did have a jolly time together. I made stuffed zucchini at her place one time. We had a bottle of wine and she forced me to listen to some far too happy Latin-ish music. She introduced me to her neighbour and we smoked cigarettes together. We often went to El Rincón de Julio, drank beer, ate pintxos, had pseudo-lessons and laughed often. In a way, I miss her.
Speaking of El Rincón de Julio, I have gone there with pretty much everyone I know in this town and with my visitors from otherworldly colonies (Michal and Mirka). I find it exceedingly pleasant and recommend it even to the most crusty or pudgy gonorrhea afflictee out there.
Carmen left for vacation in Italy sometime during the end of the summer or beginning of the fall. I was back in full swing with Marisa by then, so slowly came the scurrilous messages sent Carmen’s way. It didn’t help that she hinted several times to me via SMS that she wanted something “more”. So she is history. Only this entry exists to remember her. Her ashes are already scattered in the río Ebro. And I don’t feel a thing.
