Three Journals

By Greg Masters

Three Journals chronicles reflections from one mind in three disparate locations at three different times: Europe and Morocco, 1974-75; the East Village of Manhattan, 1977-1978; and Mexico, 1985.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997428520

Greg Masters

When he arrived in Manhattan's East Village in the mid-1970s, Greg Masters attended readings and workshops at The Poetry Project atbSt. Mark's Church and the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Along with Michael Scholnick and Gary Lenhart, he edited the poetry magazine Mag City from 1977–1985. In 1977–78, along with a crew of poet comrades, he produced a cable TV show, Public Access Poetry. From 1980–83, he edited the Poetry Project Newsletter. This is the 11th book of his writing from Crony Books.

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Europe and Morocco

October 1974 – May 1975

October 12, 1974, 8:30 a.m., Wales

Though London is only one day in the past, it is history already. I am three-and-a-half weeks into the trip and all that time, until yesterday, was spent in London. I’m not even going to promise myself I’ll write regularly in this diary. I wanted to start many times in London, just never bothered. Wales is too beautiful, I have to write.

London was enjoyable for three weeks, that’s a good amount of time to spend there. It’s very expensive, duh, like any big city, especially a capital. Money goes very fast and I don’t know where. I saw a lot of movies and plays, visited the Tate Gallery three times, the British Museum, London Zoo. I was a very good tourist. I walked miles every day and stopped by Speaker’s Corner every Sunday.

I saw two Clint Eastwood films, Thunderbolt and Light foot and Dirty Harry, Fellini’s Amarcord, The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach by Jean-Marie-Straub and Danièle Huillet, and all four Jean Vigo films.

David Storey’s Life Class was disappointing. I attended because Alan Bates had the lead and Lindsay Anderson did the staging, but there was nothing remarkable done with the staging. I was expecting something in the tradition of Brecht as he’d done with his film If. Claire Bloom as Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire was fantastic. It was the best play I’ve yet seen – even in its tired tradition.

Robin and I met three sets of people and these remained my only friends in London. First, the Pierce’s in Knightsbridge, a Warner Bros, big shot, so a lot of movie talk, addresses, contacts in Paris and Rome, a pass to a Fellini film and friendship. The whole family was extremely friendly and I needed it as I felt lonely in London and they helped a lot. It was a good beginning.

One incident started me off into real life: I was hustled out of £25 by small-time street cons. Now I know it was three-card Monte, a card game with an assistant planted in the crowd. The dealer has three cards, one being the king. He shows the king, shuffles the three cards face down and you have to pick the king. The plant excitedly calls from behind, you won, you won, and while I dig into my pocket, the dealer shifts the cards. I was stupid, it all happened too fast. My money gone and there was nothing I could do except walk away with innocence siphoned out of me. It snapped a lot in my head. Losing the money doesn’t bother me anywhere near what the loss in trust does – innocence and naivety starting to melt quickly.

I didn’t feel like doing anything in London, so knew it was time to move on. I could have left my hotel owing a week’s bill, as when I was leaving with my backpack, no one was near the door. But I couldn’t do it. I was lucky in finding that room. I paid £1 a night for a single room, which is an extraordinary bargain in London. The room was the size of a closet with just enough space for a bed. I couldn’t even open the door all the way. But, for the single room it was worth it. That’s one of the main reasons I stayed so long in London. Three weeks in that room. I tried to leave London two days ago, but got started hitchhiking too late and no one picked me up. This was just as well as it was only four stops on the Underground back into a hostel in London, the first time on this trip I stayed at one. It was just what I needed: conversation and I meet a Japanese guy, Tatsuki, and we join forces to head out for Wales. It’s good being with somebody after little conversation for three weeks in London. As he barely speaks any English and I don’t speak any Japanese, we don’t talk that much. Still, having someone there feels good. I left London with Tatsuki on Friday morning, October 11. We stay on A40 for the whole way through Wales. Great rides with talkative truck drivers telling us stories and very happy to point everything out. Ten minutes outside London it is beautiful countryside the whole way west into Wales.

Wales is just incredible, the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen. Everywhere you look, anywhere. As we ride through, the beauty of what we’re seeing never stops. In Provincetown, Mass., in the winter, I had the feeling that I could live there. Here, too, I have that sense. I love it. The longer I’m here, the longer I want to stay. The bad thing is there’s supposed to be a lot of rain here all year. We’ve been lucky. Our two days have been clear and sunny. Driving through every town, I just felt good – pure, clean – and the countryside is a spiritual conditioning. Imagine waking up to this every morning, to live in it. Everything is much slower in Wales. We haven’t really had much contact with the people yet, mostly just the drivers who pick us up hitching, but they were all friendly – caring for someone other than themselves. Ah, just superlatives for here.

Last night, we stayed at a hostel near Brecon. We were each given six blankets. This is where the countryside was most magnificent. We left in the morning and kept on A40 all the way west to St David’s Head. It was a winding country road for hours. The hostel here is a three-mile walk from town through cow and sheep pastures at the foot of a large (for Wales) mountain, which I’m sure someone will tell me the name of tomorrow. I am at the other edge of the Atlantic. It feels good to see the ocean again. That and the full moon. I didn’t see much of this town yet, but from what I glimpsed, the cathedral was spectacular, likely the town’s feature attraction. It’s huge, covering at least an acre. A newer one was built from the ruins of an old frame. The interior is decorated lavishly with a complex wood-structured ceiling around 100 feet high A shame all this is in the cause of religion.

October 13, 4 p.m., St David’s Head, Wales

Rain all day today. We’re sitting around waiting for the hostel to open up. Even with the rain, I still feel incredible. It’s a light rain. The sky is grey but everything here is still beautiful, it really doesn’t bother me. Talked to an artist in town before. This is – I won’t say the, but a place for an artist. It’s calm where the little things become important. I don’t know if this is a false concern, but it seems true: there’s a total attention to events around you. I’m still a tourist and these are still esoteric observations on my part, but I just know how whole I feel here. This could be overenthusiasm to something new, but even with this rain, I feel I would like to live here – after a while of traveling and checking everything else out. It would be nice to have a car to be able to visit all the places the people tell me about. Having to hitch makes one weary of trying to reach those remote areas, especially this time of year.

Still, though, have some feeling of responsibility – a hold – to whom or what I don’t know – parents, myself. I still don’t have a total sense of freedom. I’m not homesick, but feel a pull – something telling me to come back. It’s not strong, but it prevents a total sense of open end. Perhaps once I’m out here a while longer it will become more real and I’ll be able to be objective around it easier.

October 14, 10:30 p.m., Poppit Sands, Wales

Because hitching was lousy today and because Cardigan looked good, Tatsuki and I decided to stay here rather than try to reach our destination, Llanidloes. At times, when we have to wait for a car to pick us up, I wish we had our own car, a van would be nice. But once a talkative truck driver picks us up I never regret the way we’re moving. By hitching I see a lot more. I am let off in towns I would normally pass right through. There is a caveat: though the countryside is rapturous, sometimes I could do without the miles and miles of walking – especially with 50 pounds on my back.

We decided to stay in Cardigan so we could enjoy some nightlife. However, the hostel is around four miles from town and after the walk to reach it we’re in no condition to walk back into town. Finally a shower as consolation. I like being with Tatsuki. Tonight, making dinner together, I felt very close to him. Sitting at a table together was beautiful. I like the way he talks, in phrases rather than sentences. I’m doing that now, too, in talking with him. His humble knapsack that he got in Argentina. Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will open my eyes and look out the window to the Atlantic. The hostel is on a cliff overlooking the ocean. I would like one day of nothing but lying around as my feet hurt.

October 15, 10:30 p.m., Poppit Sands, Wales

Because my clothes were not yet dry I had to stay again at the Poppit Sands hostel today, which was just as well as I wanted a rest. Tatsuki had to leave, however, and I miss him. I learned a lot from silence with him. Yesterday I saw the Cilgerran Castle which dates from the 1100s, a guy named Percy gave me a pamphlet on it.

October 16, 6 p.m., Glaspwll, Wales

Got myself sitting in front of a fire, listening to Mahler, way up in the hills somewhere, don’t even remember the name of the village. I left Poppit Sands this morning and was soon picked up by Geoffrey, whose home I’m at now. I will help him paint his living room tomorrow. He’s an environmental map maker. For 12 years he’s plotted and mapped the vegetation of England and Wales. Seems like nice work – walking around the mountains. We’re three miles off the nearest road and the nearest neighbor is a half-mile away. We took a detour off the main road while coming up here to visit his old neighbor. When his son was born in that area three years ago, he was the first child born there for more than 70 years – and that road wound miles up into the mountains. With the leaves turning and able to see for miles into the valley, it was just too much. I took some film (roll # 2). There were mines in this area 150 years ago, but now there’s only a forestry ranger and one other house that we passed. I felt very privileged to be here. I imagine anyone could drive through there if they ever found it.

I met Geoffrey in town and he asked if I’d like to have lunch with him at his home. He said it’s only a few miles off the road and he’d take me back. That’s led to an invitation to spend the night. Yesterday, too, at a pub, I got to talking with old Fred and Percy and eventually, after buying me drinks, Percy invited me to his house for lunch. We sat around with his wife Sandy for a while. For a city boy, this kindness is hard to adjust to. My first impulse is to be apprehensive and afraid, not trusting. Then I realize this is true kindness and human warmth.

I picked up a Dashiell Hammett novel, The Thin Man, and read most of it last night at the hostel. Only one other person is there. A hi, how ya doin, it’s a great morning. I will finish the book tonight. I like his writing.

As I look out the window, we’re in a sort of valley. Hens, geese and roosters are walking freely around in front of the house. Across the lane, sheep roam on green hills and mountains.

I must say, as an excuse sort of, that so far in writing this diary I have not been feeling very reflective. Letters too have been bland. I don’t know exactly why. I don’t feel particularly bad about it, but I do have some concern. I’ve been taking everything as it comes, maybe because this is the first time I’m traveling with no end in sight – on my own totally, hanging in some sort of limbo – not adjusted to freedom yet. It’s hard to accept that I’m traveling for an indefinite time after becoming used to having schedules and routines. As far as what happens after all this, I don’t know and don’t really think of it that much – film, writing, ok. I do love being out here in the country where time doesn’t matter. I happened to read a magazine article which discussed the country life as opposed to city life. The author felt that after three years of being in the countryside that it all gets to be boring – beautiful, yes, but boring. This, I’m sure, could be true. Once one knows the city, to try to adjust to this is a great change, of course. On the other hand, I met a woman whose husband had been a doctor. They packed it up, moved to Wales and are now making pottery. I like both the city and country. I don’t know. Geof is paying £300 a year to live in this house.

October 17, midnight, Poppit Sands, Wales

Well, having painted the front room this morning, we were able to sit around tonight with the furniture put back in place, reading until about 10, then talking about everything until now in the newly decorated, as Geof says, room. I felt the security and settled feeling for which I stayed. Listening steadily to classical music these last two days makes me realize how much I love it and am part of that. I miss jazz, but must say, at least now, here, I’m perfectly content with classical – as long as there’s something from the 20th century for every piece by Mozart. Both styles of music, jazz and classical, create their own atmospheres and worlds and I belong in both. Having not heard jazz for a while I kind of forget the body feeling.

The second order of the day was a long mountain walk. Geof knows every inch of this area, every turn for miles along the footpaths we followed today. After the first mile, I didn’t know if I could make it. My legs were tight, tired, but after that I felt fine the whole way – about five or six miles among mountains with some exceptionally beautiful views. It certainly felt wholesome to be far away from anyone, but I still feel I preferred the Brecon Beacons, where I stayed my first night in Wales.

I read another novel tonight, another light one that became quite lousy. But I have this drive to finish a novel once started, even if I know it’s not worth it – as it is, somehow. Even in the lousiest works of anything, I still get something out of it – at the least, a new way to see something, which is the purpose of art, isn’t it?

I wonder when I will get working on my novel. I have an outline, basically, but feel I have to be settled to write and don’t want to settle just yet. I want to travel. Maybe in Greece or Spain, if I go there, I’ll settle long enough to get at least a good start on the novel, if it should turn out that long. The long short story, at least, will continue in Wales for another rive or six days and then I don’t know where I’ll go. Maybe to see Robin back in northern England, but then where? Probably Amsterdam. I am afraid of the impending winter. I don’t want it to force me south just yet. It’s not cold here yet, but it’s getting there. Robin says she’s cold already. I lost my nice blue thermal sweatshirt somewhere in St David’s, probably right in front of a nunnery.

October 19, 7 p.m., Harlech, Wales

This weather stuff is beginning to become a factor. Stayed another night with Geoff because it was pouring rain yesterday. I haven’t needed my sunglasses for five or six days here. It’s always grey and overcast if not raining. It’s crazy really, with changes off the sea every minute. With two days of steady rain I am beginning to get angry. Still, Wales is incredible. A guy picked me up today and offered me his house, but I continued on to here. Yesterday, I helped Geoff paint his bedroom to get the settled feeling and to listen to music. My whole visit was nice. His wife and kid were at their aunt’s cattle farm taking care of things while the aunt was away, or something. Geoff enjoyed my company, too, I believe. We went into Aberystwyth for dinner and a movie but nothing good was playing.

Aberystwyth is a good town – about 10,000 people with 3,000 at the university. I liked it, but I like every town I pass through – all these little towns that the road goes through. I feel I could live in any one of them, they all seem great. Geoff showed