Sunday, August 27, 2006

Drunken Faggots.

Hector Mercado.
Bastardo.
I sat in Taco Lucas chomping down some crunchy flautas on the corner of Avenida Juarez and Calle Ignacio Mejia - eyeing the hot vaquero with his henpecked wife two tables over - he looks over and smiles - I smile back lighting a Lucky and my blue eyes all sparkly and the man blushes. Bitch grabs his square jaw and jerks him around, "Are you listening to me?!"
Ugh - women.
Well - Hector decided to show up and looking like Hector does his lateness was pardoned - he kissed his wife hello - yup, the cashier - the fucking hostess, Gracelda - was his wifie. Nice as far as broads go. Hector was dressed in his dark denim and black leather and I nearly creamed my dry goods lusting over that thick stocky man frame as he scraped up a chair to my table and ordered a beer and some tacos al fresco, cabrone.
We ate as men eat - great gulps of flesh and swigs of beer and laughing of antidotes of wild drunken times and adventures and sexual escapades. A few of my cigarettes later, Hector asked "Hey, guero, have you ever drank a tequila called Xuxupaste?" Pronounced Chu-chu-past-eh for you dumb fucks that don't know Espanola.
"Nope." I said, ordering another beer. "Can't say I have. Is it any good?"
"Aie, guey - the best. Finish up - I'm taking you around the corner to the oldest bar in Juarez that has the best Xuxupaste." Hector said like an excited teen ready to burst my cherry - eyes a poppin' and biting his bottom lip.
"Okay." I sighed. As we walked to the door where are you going or more like donde esta was roared at us from that mammoth woman of his. Whirling around - Gracelda stood there like some supreme Aztec earth goddess arms crossed and flanked by the condescending greasy cook.
"Out for a beer." Hector said to her. She clomped over and towered above - holding up one finger. "Bueno, Hector - ONE BEER! Okay! Solomente - one!"
"Okay, baby!" He smiled - kiss on the cheek. "One beer - I promise. I love you."
Out the door - hot concrete under our feet. Past the crumbling adobe and the ravaged heroin hookers - past the piles of garbage and the roving packs of cholos - we came upon a small cantina called El Arbolitas. Entering the bar was small with two metal tables three booths and a huge mahogany bar that was warped to Dr. Suessian proportions. The bar was populated by the friendliest group of working class guys I have ever encountered in Juarez City.
Behind the bar, the bartender was a friendly jovial man that emitted warth and hospitality. Hector ordered one beer each, cerveza Sol. He then order two shots of Xuxupaste. It cam in a clear bottle with some sort of large root in it - to me it looked like a petrified hand. Slice of lemon - salt on the wrist...Slamming it back - the taste was bitter, with a hint of gin. Not bad - good kick.
Ten more and Hector and I were fucked up. And we still hadn't finished our first beer. Some fat guy took out a guitar and the entire cantina burst into singing old Mexican folk ballads - it was something out of a movie. We all laughed and slapped each other on the back - told jokes and stories and downed more of that delicious Xuxupaste.
Eleven thirty rolled around and the bar shut down. Hector and I - arms around each other for support - stumbled back to Taco Lucas. waiting at the door - arms folded and mad as a hornet was Gracelda. "Look at you two! I told you - one beer!"
Hector looked at her - focused for a moment, "I didn't brake my promise, honey - we had one beer. Ten tequilas - but one beer."
We both fell on the concrete laughing. Gracelda hit Hector across the back - "You're impossible!"
Hector and I were both so gone that two Mariachi had to help us to a table and Gracelda brought us coffee - however when Hector went to the washroom - he never came back. For over an hour he stayed in there. First, Gracelda was at the locked door banging on it - calling his name - but to no avail. Then a line of mariachi kept knocking calling his name - but Hector still wouldn't come to the door. Finally, the police were called to force open the door - there was Hector - curled up on the floor under the sink with a smile on his face passed out.
With a splash of bucket water - Hector was revived and it was my duty to walk his drunk ass the two blocks to his house. Fine - I told Gracelda I'll crash on the sofa. "And don't wake up my children!", she shrilled as I helped Hector down the cobblestone sidewalk. Once back at Hector's house and after thirty minutes of drunken Three Stooges comedy of trying to get the door open - Hector and I creep into his bed room. It took Herculean effort to control myself as I stood there watching Hector peel of them clothes and crawl in bed. Damn - he has a physique like a pro wrestler - muscles bulging all over the damn place.
The only thing I can report is he pulled me on top of him and we made out. Kissing those thick soft lips - feeling that hot fat tongue - I was so excited. But - he passed out again. So - I just left the house, walked across the border and returned to my apartment.
Hector - you make me so anxious...

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

A Perfect World.


The United States has become Oceania.

11:10 en el Noche.

Walking through these dark cracked streets huddled in someone else's coat. I stop under a poster covered street lamp and light a cigarette. The buzzing from the condenser above me fills my head. Banda music waivers down among the shadows intermittent like black wind through dead trees. I look up and the wires criss cross the starry night. I close my eyes and sigh.

In a town of ten million people, why do I feel so alone?

Thursday, August 17, 2006

I Flew Over the Coo-Coo's Nest.

The blaring white light flashes across my face - heat upon heat upon heat upon heat as the box cars rumble beneath my feet once again. My jaw clenches my Lucky Strike so hard the tobacco falls onto my tongue - leaves bitter taste. Click clack click clack click clack click clack - the locomotive rushes below me like a steel behemoth - make up your mind before it's too late - the end is near. As fast as it had appeared it is gone and I am left in cold darkness - the train is now nothing but a small red light in the distance and a faint howl of the klaxon.
I stand on the rim of the bridges precipice - blinking the dust and tears and walk into the night. I walk the twelve blocks to the El Paso psychiatric Center. NO WALK INS. I call the 1-800 number and between sobs admitted - faceless surgeons armed with razors cut out my imagination - popping psychotropic pills with left hand - signing reams of paperwork with my right hand. Stripped to my dry goods by a leering and obese fairy porter and handed my tattered hospital gown - I am escorted by said porter and some goon to my room. Amid howling and screams I try to sleep, but it don't come.
4:35 a.m. 'Time to take your blood pressure.' Why not? I say head all groggy and lift arm like putty and not knowing where I am and not really caring - more pills are taken. I lay down and my head is throbbing - but there is a big black hole back there. And I can't remember what was there - you know?
So, Dr. Sahid strolls in all smiles and has viscous nurse takes blood in the worse way - cause I'm a fag and I gotta be tested for germs, because that's what we got, right - but the bitch goes probing for a vein like a rube and a diggin' and I'm starin' and I ask with raised eyelid "First time?" In which she yanks the needle out and jabs - jabs! - the fucker in the other arm and draws blood from the good arm. I'll say it here for the sake of future generations and I'll say it country simple - I HATE WOMEN. THE VIRUS OF THIS PLANET! NEVER LIKED THEM - NEVER WILL!
Anyway - back to the story in progress - I return whimpering to my cubicle - fucking cunt - I lay on my stinking cot in a room that reeks of vomit head spinning like numb cotton. Every so often orderlies come and ask me something - voice muffled - I just answer "I'm okay." They could be asking, "Did you murder that little girl behind the 7-11 the other day?" - I'm okay.
Shuffled with the rest of the retards to eat. Poo on a plate. Mmmm. Some spaz decided to go theatrical and flung his Martian Dinner all over the cafe. Ugh. If I had half a mind I would of - well I didn't so I just sat there and watch with medicated numbed atrophy like everyone else.
There was a large part of my stay that was a gray screen - just a blur. Numb. Nothing. A part that was taken out of my brain - I can't remember anything. Hmmm? All I know is, the following morning I had enough of this crazy shit and walked up to the head nurse and demanded with a stern eye - well saggy and bloodshot - an immediate discharge. The doctor agreed. And 12 hours later - amid torrid rains and crashing thunder, I was in the back of a yellow cab returning to my apartment.
My life is crazy. Or is it just me?

Monday, August 14, 2006

Dry dead leaf.

The gray just gets grayer. Can't connect with anything. No time left on my cellphone - so no body can contact me for job interviews - which is a bust anyways; who the fuck is going to hire me anyway? On my resume it states I haven't worked for a year - I wouldn't hire me. There isn't any work in this town. Tired of going out for weeks on end and hearing that nothing is available...Have sold everything of value san my laptop - only thing I have left - only thing I have left grounding me to reality - writing that book. And on that have really lost interest. Lost interest on all things, really.
Feel so cold inside. I feel nothing. I feel like a corpse waiting to be sent to the grave.
All my friends are gone - have abandoned them. I don't talk to anyone. Don't feel exceptionally social anymore. Last night took a walk in the night and felt so alone like always - can't connect with anything. What is the point of continuing this? The world is such an evil and hostile place and seems nothing but an disgusting struggle to the bitter lonely end.
Even those at MHMR I have lost interest - the only person I have trusted has left. The others are nothing. They listen but don't hear nor care. No one does.
That is the point - no one does. Why should I? And the reality...I don't.
I want to call my parents - my long suffering parents - out of shame I should. I need money. I know my mother is probably dead at this point - I am not sure, but she most likely is - I should join her - how I envy her if she is. The peace she must've attained from this shit we must endure! How I envy her! Sigh.
Tonight - tonight I think I shall try again. I mean - shit...how hard is it?

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Evil Elderly.

My life has become a bizarre Hitchcock film. I am being stalked by an evil elderly woman. Actually it is the same woman that I had encountered on the bus a few days prior. She is now following me around snapping pictures of me on her cell phone - mouthing 'I am going to get you, you mother fucker.'
Can't wait to see how this pans out. The suspense is killing me...

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Dark Shadows on the Wall.

Woke up and made scrumptious menudo - from a can - for breakfast with a cup of joe.
Dragged my ass across town on the bus to see if there was employment available at this one joint that a friend said that 'they were always hiring' - well they were not. And on a side note; nice to see racism is alive and well in our fair country. When I got on the bus and plopped down in the back next to this old Mexican hag - she gruffly got up and sat two seats forward. No big whoop, I thought. Until she grumbled something and flipped me off.
Sigh - I just let it slide and kept focused on the matter at hand of getting a job. Well as luck would have it - the old cunt got off at the same stop as me. Now get this - crossing the street as we were entering the shopping plaza's parking lot, the old bag starts yelling, "Die you fucking asshole!" In espanol yet.
I did what any red blooded faggot would do to protect his honor. I said, in my best Travis Bickle, "You talkin' to me?" and casually walked over to her and spat a big loogy right into her wrinkled contorted face. Wouldn't you? Well - she screamed and she hollered and she cursed like a sailor some more after that. I just calmly walked away thinking if she is going to hate me at least I will give her a justifiable reason to. Why is it we live in a society built on apathy? Where does these people come from?
After that stupidity, I stopped in Barnes and Noble and found the coolest book on Costa Rica and read up on the subtleties of opening a business down there. Can't wait.
It seems I have decided to start small, perhaps with a coffee shop first and then move up to the hospitality part. I want a gay bath house - yeah, pimp out my own boys. Heh - heh - heh. Just kidding, a Bed and Breakfast on the beach will do just fine...with boy whores.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Up your ante.

After much bitching as only a bitch can bitch - EBT is functioning fine. MHMR has upped the doses of psychotropic medications - hey Mr. Lee how 'bout them roaches? - and have to battle the dark shadows just out of range of my optics. The old now you see them now you don't. Yeah, I'm crazy.
Must come to the conclusion that in a desert all things are desolate - employment, mental health, love - and that must demand patience. After all, two years are at my disposal. The search for employment continues - look pretty darn hot in my Tommy Hilfiger jacket and black slacks. Kerpow.
Pulsating emotions of warmth and love and understanding from Central American ghost egg me on to complete my goal - but the Great Black Vortex still looms ahead. Like Homer I will sail through this tempest or will sink - what ever the outcome my fate I shall accept.
Damn this depression is insidious business.

Saturday, August 05, 2006

Ignorance Is Strength.

This week had just gotten progressively worse. Do office workers get off on being incompetent? Why are all the good ones fired and the idiots always kept on the pay roll?

Had a run in with my caseworker at General Assistance concerning my EBT card - has not and will not be activated until she gets a written letter from MHMR stating the fact that they are paying all rent and utilities. I had of course asked my tech - the one who is handling the payment and receipts of said documents a month ago to fax General Assistance a month ago - fucking month ago - said letter. Four times I had asked and I was told it had been done. Not by the caseworkers files at General Assistance of course.

After several pleaful phone calls to said caseworker - she finally agreed since no tech or tech's supervisor could be reached at MHMR, I myself could fax over copies of the paid receipts and lease from my apartments office and all will be dandy.

Okay. Fine. So, jumping aboard the World's Worst Public Transit System, I finally reach my apartment and with much arrogance I get the documents from my landlord and are grudgingly faxed by her. But - no. They are not good enough. Called back the caseworker at General Assistance and she then informed me she needed that fucking letter signed by my tech.

Fuck you. I'll wait until tomorrow. Luckily on the bus I met an old friend - grand old queen by act of congress - and he gave me a sawski and Lucky Strikes and food was purchased. Staples, you understand.

Woke up early Friday morning and - thanks to the crappy transit system - two hours later I am at MHMR bitching long and hard about my EBT card and that fucking letter. Much smiles from my tech's supervisor and phone calls were made and psycho therapeutic pills were downed and a letter was drafted and after reaching the caseworker at General Assistance was finally notified that my EBT card would be activated in 24hrs.

24hrs later and that mother fucker is still at zero and it is Saturday and the fucking Kafkan offices won't open until Monday.

Why do I even bother getting out of bed in the morning?

Any rich cats out there? Please help the Desolation Angel Relief Fund.
Send checks and money orders to:

Luis Blasini
4730 North Mesa #61
El Paso, Texas 79912

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Living in a Septic Tank.

For the past two days the city of El Paso has been under water - which is odd for a desert city. But never the less it has been drenched in torrential rainfall. The worst of it all is I have been on a forced fast. I - through no fault of my own - have run out of food at my apartment and within a series of stupid events I have not eaten anything for three days - going on four. Several people that I thought I could rely on have said they would help me but of course not - worthless unreliable shits. And 'they' wonder why I am so independent and do not trust anyone. They never can see past their own ignorance. Oh well - like I always say if you're going to do something, do it yourself - others will just wind around fucking it all up. I am better than this...

Last Friday, MHMR issued me a voucher to the food bank, at the time I had a couple of cans of soup to last until Saturday. Drank a lot of coffee all of Sunday. Unfortunately, because of this stupid and freakish storm the El Paso Food Bank was closed both Monday and Tuesday and of course as luck would have it not opened on Wednesday. So, looks like I shall be dining on hot coffee and will power tonight and wait for tomorrow.

Sigh.

Anyway, desperate for cash I decided to sell my laptop - however, now get this and this is one of the millions of reasons why I loathe El Paso so fucking much - I take the damn thing to all four pawn shops in downtown. Nope - we don't accept computers.

Okay.

All the rest of the friends I have are poor and worthless and want the damn thing for like twenty dollars. So, again I am back to square one. Bad thing is I erased all my saved documents - including my book - all for nothing.

Well, highlight is I got a job and I start the following Monday - so that will alleviate the financial woes a bit.