Journal, January 18, 1976 PM

I finished "Cien Años de Soledad" {One Hundred Years of Solitude} today. It ended with Melquíades’ secret to life being the complete history of the Buendía family, written before it happened. I would have to say the book as a whole was a modern day parable with the "heavenly meaning" being that life and man’s existence on Earth are a tragedy, so you aught to find sustenance in love (relieve your "soledad" {solitude}). Or if you miss out on for real, passionate, all consuming love, you can try partying! As Aureliano Segundo said, "Pártense vacas, la vida es corta!" {Out of my way cows, life is short!}

I rode up to the La Libertad turnoff & back on the bike for exercise (13 kilometers one way). I could make it to Sonsonate, no sweat, if I could stay over and return the next day.

I called Morena about the books again tonight & she’s got my mind fucked up again. <She has been so unbelievably nice and talkative since I told her about Sofia.> She’s being so sweet and understanding she makes me feel guilty, like I did her wrong in some way, but I’ve been completely honest. What more could I do? She’s tricky though. She asked me if I’d gotten a letter from the novia {girlfriend} yet, and when I admitted I hadn’t she seemed to get some little satisfaction out of it. So I’ll meet her at the University {of El Salvador} library to go give ‘em the books on Thursday. I hope I am together enough to tell her I was "enamorado" {in love} with her, but I can’t handle 2 novias, so can’t we still be friends? Unless she takes her sister to classes with her, we should be alone together for the first time since San Isidro days. It’s so much easier to say what you feel to someone when you’re alone.

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