There is a statue at the end of the old street close to where I used to live, along the avenue, St. Jerome the Priest in front of a Croatian embassy, commissioned by the Croatian Franciscan Fathers, by Ivan Mestrovic, 1954.

Saturday, very busy, Sunday night slow.  Monday night jazz, the musicians are in the door right at opening, and the boss's family is there at the end of the night, dessert, coffee.  Old Gene keeps me company.  And in the end, gives me a ride home, which oddly delights me and supports me, for I am lonely and tired out.

I wake up with a headache.  Again I had a few sips of wine, but no more.  The Tuesday wine tasting features a white and a red from Corsica.  The white is distinct.  The red is good.


Jesus was into cooking and the culinary arts.  Thus the miracles of loaves and fishes multiplied.  Perhaps he and the Disciples had figured it out.  As he was ahead of his time.  It takes a miracle sometimes, I'll tell you.


The barman's day begins in soreness.  Later on he will put on the antic disposition of a good mood as a server, and this cannot be sustained for the whole day with the shift on top consuming the majority of the energies of eight hours on your feet.  There's only so much to go 'round, no matter what.  And so it is not atypical for the barman to remember some of the things from the previous night with a certain loathing, for those who kept his good manner too long, and by a general sensibility resulting from that, a kind of loathing for humanity in general.  All this will work itself out, with the different stages of preparations and travel, with the humping up the stairs of what will be needed for the night.

Add on top of that morning mood of frustrations, add the duties of the amateur writer who knows not what he's really working on, just that he keeps at it, for reasons a bit beyond himself.  Add on top of that the administrative duties, the self-keeping and feeding, the soothing things.   The phone call to say, "it's okay," to a mother too far away.   The scintillating conversationalist of the evening, with the memory of customers old and new, over many years now, wishes for silence.  A relationship with no questions asked, no strings attached...

All of this meaning that he is, in the sense of Peter, a sinful man.