It’s all too real how I keep myself
to myself. I have rented a self-storage unit
on the edge of a natural depression. I am
the stuff I store.
from Self-Storage by Rebecca Hoogs
The term “self storage” has always troubled me. What, exactly, does it mean? That I somehow put myself inside some space, to be forgotten for some period of time, unused and not using, wrapped in newsprint or crepe or tissue or some old sheet, torn in places, frayed in others? It reminds me of “lost and found” – if something is lost, it is lost. The department that has those objects, the found objects, can’t possibly have the lost items now, can it? As far as I know, the French do not have “Lost and Found” departments, only departments for objets trouvés – found objects.
I have been watching Maigret, the French television series starring Bruno Cremer as the Parisian detective. It’s shown in San Miguel with Spanish subtitles, which I find frustrating as the actors speak their French dialog rapidly and the Spanish subtitles fly by, so I understand neither language completely. Because I’m reading the Spanish somewhat slowly while trying to listen to the French, it all ends up a jumble. At the end of the show, like the RMCP, Maigret nabs his suspect and most often, like MacGyver, he does so using solely brain power.
Today the faithful marched from Atotonilco to San Miguel carrying Our Lord of the Sorrows from that chapel to the church San Juan de Dios. I missed the procession, which arrived in San Miguel around 7 a.m. I missed the flower-strewn streets and photo opportunities. In other local news, the mayor has stepped away from his desk for two months, perhaps the result of his telling his staff to tell the American Consulate that the death last fall of a 73-year-old American woman was a “suicide,” although it’s unusual for suicides – especially women – to do so by decapitation, especially by putting one’s neck on railway tracks, which is where she was found. In the Mexican and Anglo reports of the death I’ve read, I have yet to learn the quantity of blood on the tracks. There’s the possibility, too, that the Mayor’s two-month leave is due to his run for higher office and he needs to devote his “total attention” to that matter.
But back to the French. In the first round of voting, Marie Le Pen’s National Front party captured one-fourth of the vote. It seems to be yet one more unintelligent win for the democratic process.