Sunday, October 30, 2016

I always pretended I was Diego Riviera and Melanie King with Freda Kohler

I have friends that are thinking of doing a full length documentary on me and my work with a working title "Eric Kroll...a prick with a vision" which is a quote by Alan McDowell from an article he did on me for Hustler many years ago.
The segment I hoped they would do on my ten plus year relationship with Melanie I felt should just be the photos she made of me, she made of others while we were together and my photos of Melanie.
Though we fought almost the entire time in Alamos, Sonora Mexico I felt we added great material to this concept.

me in a tequila bar in Alamos by Melanie King

Melanie celebrates by 70th birthday while riding side saddle in the plaza. Alamos, Sonora

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Alamos, Sonora celebrating my 70th birthday. footage by Melanie King

I wished to `get lost' like I ued to do in the early seventies when I first worked commercially in NYC. Every time I'd do a job I'd take the $300 and fly down to Guatamala City and take second class buses to thru Guatamala stopping in Panajahcal (Lake Atitlan) and walk across the border into Mexico and end up in Merida, Mexico.
I was told to try Alamos so after much research I found Tefeca bus line and Melanie King flew in and we got a cab to 5500south 12th avenue and spent 10 hours on the bus and ended up in Navajoa. Then Rosario drove us 60 kilometers to Hotel Luz del Sol and into the arms of "Luchy",
Alamos is like a Gabriel Marquis novel. Colonial, quiet old except for the Mexican cowboy bar we found and on my 70th birthday,

complimentary breakfast at del Sol.

our two bedroom quarters at "Luchy's"

beautiful Michelle the next day at the bar

I found the bar by following this man into the bar

Melanie at a former Abbey now hotel

Melanie and I begin a simmering (well done) 24 hour fight

portrait of Melanie 

(for me) a very sexy Melanie in a kid's black velvet sombrero I bought in south Tucson and wearing a faux rubber hot pants jumpsuit I bought at the 22nd st thriftshop that is going out of business.

 a couple of days later. still in Alamos. This whole town is Colonial Spanish. an hour or two or three I heard Spanish ballard music and went outside to see musicians in full 16th century outfits and instruments walking up the narrow street in front of our hotel. earlier in the day we heard a funky marching band and that was from a Catholic school down the same block and around the corner. Then we visited the Hotel Colonial and she took us inside and out the back which had an enormous hall with long carved wooden tables. I want tequila and she sent us to a infamous tequila bar again down the end of her block. 
we rang the bell and a fellow let up in and took us through the gardens and more gardens to Arcadio who had been our waiter two nights earlier. Suddenly I realized we were in the butt end of the same restaurant!!! Then we sat and drank expensive tequila while i sat below a portrait of Poncho Villa.

the old grand hotel even had a small theater like from the 1800's. here I am faux proposing to Melanie

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Death on the highway took Abril and her daughter, Louisa, leaving Maggie to sort the mess

I am so sorry

Abril and her young daughter, Louisa, were crushed yesterday morning along interstate 10. Crushed instantanteously by a eighteen wheeler, it was the only way they were going to keep Avril down. She was a dynamite mother and a pistol of an aspiring image maker. Her smile surrounds me and I wish they were still here. Louisa filled any room as she bounced out and back in, looking for and getting affirmation from her mom. And when the three of them (Maggie Thrice, Avril, and Louisa) were together, getting love from her gentle dad. I will have to spend years alone (without Louisa and Avril) reaching out to Maggie, hoping that he ok.

There is nothing but life…living, experiencing, feeling. Everything else is death and unknowable.

Louisa on the qarm of her father, Maggie

the family

Maggie, Louisa and Abril.

I have a friend that survived Cyrstal Noc in Frankfurt, Germany and lost friends and relatives in the concentration camps but didn't lose her faith till her grown daughter was killed on the highway outside San Francisco. I have lost too many-one off a cliff approaching Lake Tahoe, falling asleep on a curve exiting to Palm Springs, on a highway along the Mexican border, on a roadway in Marin

sudden loss