Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Hassan's Rumpus Room.

Today I went and did it - finally. After checking out of the hotel that I was so graciously a guest, I cashed my check (Bought a pack of Lucky Strikes - so good after weeks of smoking rollies.) paid my dues and hightailed it down to Mexico and - after a furtive and lengthy search - rented a room. For $50 a week I get a lopsided king size bed, bathroom down the hall, and a great balcony with a sweeping view of the greater downtown Tijuana vista - hookers, smog, and all. And the landlady and lord are quit nice. It will do until further notice, I suppose.
Walking through the teeming masses, it so good to be back in a town that I call home...

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Back in Tee-jay.



Woke up with a hella head cold - but took the red line down to the frontier and crossed into Tijuana to seek a furnished room for rent. Past the hawkers and the hookers I entered Plaza Santa Cecilia in hopes of running into that old Canadian, Chuck - what the fuck?

No dice on that corpse, however I did bump into an old friend named Philippe who waitered one of the restaurants and he explained that he has a friend that has a furnished room for $150 a month. Since he mentioned that he didn't get off of work until 5pm - I had some time to kill.
I meandered through the neighborhoods west of the Strip checking out rooms for rent - I do not wish to rent an apartment, since I am leaving for Costa Rica in September. I stopped and had commida corrida at a little cafe that I like - though all has seemed to change. Even the great park that the cafe was adjacent too - known for years as a hotbed for homosexual cruising - all the trees had been cut down. I did locate this one spot that rented rooms but alas no one would come to the gate when I savagely banged on it.
Temptation led me to Cinema Latino - the porno theater downtown for a spot of unclean fun. After doing the nasty with some guy named Sergio in the back row - I ran into an old friend I have known for decades. Jose was his name and man, has he 'plumped' up. Okay - he got fat.
After a few more cocks I exited the theater and briskly walked back to the Plaza to meet with Philippe. Unfortunately - and true to his cute but dingbat personality - the room in question was way up in the hills and I wanted something more central. Saying my good nights, I returned to the border and once back at the hotel - I was so tired I just crashed...caught the tail end of Mel Brooks Blazing Saddles. Masterpiece!

Saturday, January 27, 2007

Knock it off, God!

Just when I was all comfy and cozy in my self deprecation...
It seems fortune has smiled on me once again and I have taken it with the usually numb apathy. I broke down in a tender and dramatic moment yesterday to my manager and spun the web of woe concerning my living arrangements at St. Vincent de Paul's. He took pity on my plight and I now reside in a room free and gratis at the hotel until the first of the month when I move into my new digs in Tijuana. I moved in this morning - no more stinking hobos, no more babbling loonies, no more screaming maniacs...
Oh Joy! Oh rapture!
Oh crap. The only problem is I am without funds for food - perhaps I can finagle him out of an advance in pay, too. I do not receive my first paycheck until the 31st of this month. But, son cosas de la vida, bitches. Yup - looks like everything is coming up roses now - let's see how long this ride lasts...

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Will I ever get one?

I know exactly what you are going through, you clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk! Wait – you’re made of meat…



I feel so cold - so empty. I am so far gone I don't think I will ever come back. Sorry Jose, Saul, Jam, Enrique, Arturo, and especially Jeffry. You all tried...and failed. Or was it me that has failed? I guess it is all based on your point of view...

Monday, January 22, 2007

Lunatic

And so - the wheels of change have been set in motion once again. My passport papers have been submitted in totum and I have applied for my Visa. I tell you the Kafkian bureaucracy at the Costa Rican embassy was quite an ordeal. Though I do not need a Visa to live in Costa Rica, the document is to be used for other plans within plans...
The plan for now is as follows: Will move into Tijuana and live in the cheapest furnished room I can locate while saving all the dinero I can muster from this relatively high paying job I have acquired. In the meantime, I shall enjoy myself - frolicking with childlike abandoned...okay, hedonistic abandon with the Interzone boys of Plaza Santa Cecilia.
And during this time - I mean, I plan my departure at the end of this summer, no later than September - I want to at least to purchase a laptop and work on my book and shoot one film. Just one! I ran into a couple of old friends yesterday and they are itching to make a movie with me - just like old times, they says. So I pull out this little script I have been playing with titled Luna and it knocks them for a loop.
Here is a sample:
INT. CITY MORGUE - NIGHT:
Renee's CORPSE on a slab is rolled into an examining room by an ATTENDANT. The entrance of the body is shown reflected in a chrome-framed mirror that juts out from a tile wall. George prepares for the impending autopsy, laying out a rack of instruments, positioning the corpse. As he is doing these things, TENOCH enters, accompanied by his GIRLFRIEND. TENOCH is dressed formally, in a tuxedo. The young woman is wearing a slinky dress with a fur wrap, pearls, spike heels. The couple are close; she has an arm through his, and she laughs, nervously. He is smoking a cigarette.
GEORGE:
Hi, doc. Workin' late tonight, huh?
TENOCH:
Party at the mayor's house, George. This is his daughter, LUNA.
GEORGE:
Howdy, LUNA.
LUNA:
Howdy, George.
George uncovers the body - individual parts are wrapped like packages from a butcher's shop, and labeled: L. ARM, HEAD, R. BREST (misspelled).
TENOCH:
(looking at the packages)
Just like Christmas .
He begins to unwrap them.
LUNA
I don't know if I can watch this.
TENOCH tosses his cigarette down on the floor. The camera goes down on the smoking cigarette butt on the floor drain; smoldering there among hair and flesh gristle on the drain's filter screen.
TENOCH:
(Voice-over)
Leave any time you want, lover. I won't
take it personally.
The camera stays on the drain as we HEAR TENOCH unwrapping the packaged body parts. LUNA's high heels enter the frame around the drain.She is stepping nervously, like a spooked horse. The clatter of her heels is very loud. We hear TENOCH chuckle.
It is a dark story about a femme fatal that gets involved with a ring of thieves that sells body parts out of a morgue and sells them on the black market. And it's a romantic film noir! I can't wait to direct - it will take place all at night, everyone will wear black and everyone will smoke.
My mind has been moving in strange directions of late. My manager asked - since I like movies so much - what film character do I see my self as. I stared at him blankly, "Have you ever seen Fight Club?"
"Oh, you think you're Brad Pitt...what was his characters name - Tyler Durden?" He smiled.
"No - not him. The other one."

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Criswell Knows All...

This is my yearly horoscope. Very strange. So far I have fucked up the romance part. Sorry, Jeff. Truly I do hold regrets in this miserable torment of a life I lead.
Year 2007 Overview Provided by Astrology.com
Aries
Motivation and hard work will help you recreate your life, giving you new opportunities in your career this year. Change is in the air. Go forward and walk through the doorways that life is opening for you. The positive energy you have cultivated will pay off in big ways. Work has always been very important, but you may start feeling some confinement or restriction in your freedom to be who you want to be.
While you are in the process of enhancing your career, take stock of yourself and reconnect with your roots and what you want to achieve. A new cycle of blessings is on its way and your life will be totally transformed. You'll know instinctively what it is that will give you the balance and connectedness you need to make the right choices. A new relationship coming your way will really perk up your interest as well. Get out that swimsuit and get ready to spend some exotic moments in the sun with the new person you're attracting into your life. You will be getting out of the house more and a surprising change of focus will be take place. The home you have created is nurturing and gives you a place to retreat. The relaxing atmosphere helps you feel secure.
You have a wonderful chance to explore far away places this year. You could travel to locations that stimulate your emotions and bring you to a new level of happiness. Go for it! You will be supported financially and these opportunities will transform your life in ways that you've never imagined. Stretching your spirit will encourage a complete metamorphosis in your life.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Room for One More, Sir.

Got rolled at the shelter. Took my backpack with my Walkman and my CD's, had a dogeared copy of Junky and Tristessa. What crackhead wants to listen to Tom Jones or Oingo Boingo? The most important possession I guess losing was the notebook - all my writing was in there. Everything else could have been rebought - but it was a damn shame losing that notebook.
On the employment front; work is all right. Front Desk Supervisor and the highest paid job I have ever had in my life - I have already doubts of staying. Fact of the matter is I just want to stop living altogether. I threw away the last vestiges of any type or hope of having a relationship in my life - it is all gone. It is too late for me. I really want to die and death would be a welcome friend.
But! I have a country to conquer - so, I have purchased my passport and will continue down to Costa Rica as planned. However, I will be going the way of the lonesome traveler...Kerouac, Burroughs, Hemingway...I have alienated myself from all human contact, it seems - nary an old friend exists and all I have left is me. Well, even myself is starting to work my last nerve - a ver...

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Wow, Bob, Wow.

The veil of black has been lifted and everything is going right as rain - for the moment. Why? Well, sit down and I'll instruct you, silly - I finally landed the position that I had been aiming for and it pulled through as of yesterday...Front Desk Supervisor at 500 West Hotel in downtown San Diego. http://www.500westhotel.com/ Wow. What a break! I can finally have the limited financial freedom that I have dreamed for all these years - if my sanity holds out - troublesome little beast. The place is nice and both the General and Front Desk managers are real cool. I think it will be fine. Yup, happy with girlish glee.
So, to celebrate I roared like a fiery rocket down to Tijuana via trolley and crossed over the carcinogen choked frontera in search of some rest and relaxation. And I found him. Saul was sitting in Cafe Norteno with his five peso shades sipping on a Pepsi light. When he saw me he bounded across the plaza like a lanky gazelle - long time no see was muttered through my dangling Lucky Strike. We sat and I bought tacos carne asadas - talking of things in general. He asked what brought me to TJ today and like magic the surroundings blurred and swirled and were replaced by the stale cracked blue walls of Hotel Belim - smell of old linens and dead insects.
Saul was like a crazy animal - he pushed me onto the bed and lay on top, our tongues probing each others mouths, necks, ears. Fumbling - the clothes were flung all over the room and the boy pushed me back down and as he bit and sucked my nipples, grinding his long uncut penis into my crotch - like a horny bitch my legs wrapped around his brown thin frame, "Cojer mi, Saul!"
A smile spread across those thick lips and he pushed my knees up to my ears, spitting into his hand he lubed his erection and - jeeeeeesssssssuuuuussss!!!! - slid that long fucker in; me hissing through clenched teeth the old bed banging and squeaking as Saul pounded like a fucking porno star talking all nasty in Spanish just the way I like it. I jacked myself off as the moments swirled and closing my eyes seeing sunbursts hot licks of semen splattered my stomach and chest. Thrusting faster eyes glazed over, Saul grunted - "Aqui!" - and I felt his cock thicken and pulse as his hot stream burst inside of me and it was so fucking good. We lay under the blankets, sharing a joint - talking about when I will be moving back to Tijuana. I grabbed his long flaccid cock and grinned, "Soon, baby - soon."

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Don't do Anything I wouldn't Do.

After slopping down a cup of Victory coffee with a John Holmes size banana for breakfast - the raucous din in the cafeteria was too much for me to bear - being the winter season, Father Joe the St. Vincent de Paul High Grande Wizard, El Primo decided to swing open the doors and let the terminal transients crash in the dining hall for the night - fleas and all. So I sat there in translucent flesh gnawing on that banana so nasty with a cackling pedophile to the right of me and some ancient toothless vampire to the left of me sitting in soiled Depends diapers that haven't been changed for a month and for God's sake is stinking like diarrhea. Frazzled filthy dirty insane mother fuckers wall to wall gorging themselves like savage beasts - like I was in some goddamn hobo zoo and they were feeding cereal to these fuckers!
I cut into the cold early morning dawn shivering with my head still splitting open and filling angry and beat - bummed a rollie from some faceless Hero that couldn't spare it and trudged the block up to the Neal Good Day Center. Waited the hour outside before it opened amid rusted shopping carts filled with memories and broken promises and flights of insane dreams of nostalgia - colorless specters hacked in groups with their collars turned up, spitting yellow ectoplasm onto the broken sidewalk - a brown midget hag, hair a rats nest even the rats don't want, screams into the sky for no apperant reason. The smell of urine and feces of a million junkies clogged your nostrils - the sight of that line of homeless angels with broken wings outside the city would give anybody the bum kicks. I hum Brazil to lighten my mood.
Purpose of the visit was to acquire bus tokens for work. I sat there all morning shaking in the bitter wind - the hip blacks smacking dominoes loud and free all day every day - three illegal wetbacks try scamming on some cracked out fat white bitch, she laughs and tries to speak Spanish - crazy, insane cadavers shuffle about bumming smokes, picking through garbage. Thanks to my old hobo friend Bruce and his bag of tobacco he smoothes me out some - must've went through 20 cigarettes and ten cups of Victory coffee sitting there on my rusty dusty.
Rattling church van pulls up and like pigeons, including your Reporter, flocked out and gang fucks the van was handed free and gratis a packaged meal - greedily consumed by all.
Wind up is - no tokens till February. So I split and head round the corner under the glaring stare of some spade pusher. A white dodge pulls up and smooth black character smiles, "Hey, man, c'mere"
"This should be fun." I say - he says wut and I repeat it for his dumbass. I got no fear.
"How much money you got?" He asks - his yellow eyes of Hepatitis move to the backseat where this white skanky ass whore is opening and closing her skinny legs with her pink skirt hiked up fingering her cooch.
"I have nothing, man." I state flatly void of feeling or emotion and walk. Halfway down the street someone is obviously trying to get my attention - I cringe. Now what? I turn and it is some ancient Negress woman clopping in shoes far too big and black tasseled dress. She has no teeth at all. Her mouth an obscene black hole in a whithered junk ravaged face.
"Hey baby doll", she starts, black hole of a mouth lasciviously churning and salivating like a cow with anthrax, "Wanna buy this pack of Newports? I need the cash."
I look at her - Freakshow. They call her Freakshow. I explain that I am broke and I move on.
I wonder into Balboa Park and decide to cruise the trails - not there long when some young Mexican guy walks up rubbing his long and nasty smiling that smile. I look dead in them big brown eyes and say coolly, "I really need to suck some cock."
"Wow - kewl!" He smiles, smell of whiskey on his breathe. We go deep into the woods under a large fanning tree hidden from prying eyes - shorts are dropped and I masturbate his long cut penis - he starts kissing me passionately, "You have sexy lips."
"Ha! I have hardly any lips - just a slit!" I laugh. Nu-uh and he shoves his tongue in my mouth and the kisses were so hot and wet that was the mostest - pulling up my shirt he sucks my nipples and that really got me going so it was down to business, y'all. I pushed him up against the tree trunk, "It's time to go to work."
Deep throated his long cock in wet strokes and he moans going up onto his tip-toes guiding my head with his thin brown hand - yanking it out he squirts thick white cream onto the black dirt. "Damn you give good fucking head, man!" He smiled. I said I know and kissed his cheek. Saying our goodbyes - parted and I returned downtown to Vinnies and that hobo zoo.
As storm clouds gathered and cold winds blew in, I stood on the balcony of that concrete shelter shivering in my coat - smoking a bummed cigarette - wondering what the hell am I going to do next...with my life that is. I feel so pointless - so fucking depressed...
Insidious.
I put the cigarette out and just went to bed.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Burst into Fire ... Forever.

I hear ya, Laura, I hear ya...

This is pretty much how I feel right now, too.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Monday, January 01, 2007

Numb with Alcohol.

Last day of 2007. Had the bum kicks - so I beat the breakfast at Vinnies and took the red line down to the border. CD Walkman jamming Annie Lennox For the Love of Big Brother and be-bopped to the glittering millennium arch - slashed across that startling blue Mexican sky; the symbol of hope and prosperity and despised and resented by the locals. Slipped into Cafe Nortena - junkies, hustlers, and transgendered freaks sat sipping coffee blinking groggily in the rising sun con el crudo.

Ordered a steaming bowl of menudo and a cup of the best cup of coffee...ever. A young man with an archaic Jewish-Assyrian face approached me and went into a long spiel about how he liked foreigners and how he wanted to buy me a drink or at least pay for my coffee. As he talked it became obvious that he did not like foreigners and had no intention of buying my coffee. I paid for my meal and left.

In another cafe some gambling game like bingo was in progress. A man came in emitting curious yelps of imbecile hostility. Nobody looked up from their bingo.

Meandered through whores and drunk tourists and trash to Bar Kinkle in the chance of running into an old friend - I felt like a disembodied ghost. I saw working behind the bar what looked like an attractive boy of 17 or so (the place was dimly lit owing to a partial power failure). Going over to the bar for a closer look, I saw that his body was swollen with pith and water like a rotten melon.

The rockola wailed a somber Mexican ballad - I took a dented metal table with my caguama and plastic cup and lemon slices with salt packets. An Indian was sitting at the next table fumbling in his pockets, his fingers numb with alcohol. It took him several minutes to pull out some crumpled pesos - what my mother described as 'dirty money' - he caught my eye and smiled a twisted broken smile, "What else can I do?"

In one corner a young Indian was pawing a whore - an ugly woman with a bestial ill-natured face and the dirty light pink dress of the calling. She glanced at me with contempt - I gazed at the hard on poking up from his dirty khakis. Finally she disengaged herself and walked out - the young Indian looked after her in silence without anger. She was gone and that was that. He walked over to the drunk and helped him up and together they staggered out with the sad sweet resignation of the Lost Indian.

This put me in even more of a funk. I finished my beer and strolled through the Central Mercado taking in the heady smells of the exotic spices and screaming monkeys. Faces passed me, no one I knew - all looking hostile and unfriendly. I turned and faced the wall - turned my back against it all. How I wished I was unborn - wish I was unliving here. Sigh - this depression is insidious. (I am in Plaza Tijuana setting pen to paper jotting this - a small dirty boy with no shoes comes up to me with hand outstretched - smiling. I place a folded fifty peso note in his tiny palm. Feliz ano nuevo.)

Tijuana hasn't changed - it is your Reporter, Dear Reader. I cut back across the border stateside and follow blind instinct. I purchase four forty ounce Steel Reserves and march up to Balboa Park. I decide to bring in the New Year alone; albeit shit faced. Found me a nice secluded grassy knoll with a splendid view of downtown to watch the fireworks - the sun had begun to set, giving everything a nice golden luster.

Life is goofy. Popped open a can and like a magical fairy springing from under a mushroom appeared a tall shabby cadaver of a black man, "Hey, brother - can ya spare a smoke?" His crazy yellow tainted eyes rolled around in his skull like the Cookie Monsters. Handed the cat a Lucky - he took it in dirty fingers shiny over the dirt - and between lip smacking mumbles and puffs of cigarette - he cooed, "Ew, yesss - we's have lube...mmmm cockrangs mmmhhmmm yep...dildoes..."
I sat there smiling up at this black Fagin and as the conversation continued I was invited down to his camp to 'kick it' with him and his friends. Sure - why not?
I followed him down the dark trails into the moonlit woods of Balboa Park - in the shadowy camp sprawled on ratty vermin infested blankets was Scott, a youngish tramp with a deep southern drawl - handsome in a rough way with his steel gray eyes and shaggy brown beard, and there was Sim, a bloated mountain of fatty flesh, came to the States from Laos (Does that make him Laosy? Get it? made Sim laugh every time - then again he was loaded on goofballs). Sitting together under a sycamore tree was two dirty black clad flaming self-proclaimed Klub Kids, Octavio and Josh - nuttier than squirrel shit but they knew all there was on the legend of Micheal Alig. The two clung together screeching and giggling on a methamphetamine buzz.
I shared my last three beers but since I didn't have enough for all I sent the black guy on a beer run. With this merry band of hobosexuals dressed in their hobo finest, I had more kicks than I ever would swinging in the New Year at any fag bar or snotty ass queer disco. The night progressed, we became more and more intoxicated - Steel Reserve 211, I swear that shit'll fuck you up!
And the jokes kept flying once Scott confessed he had a vibrator stashed up his ass - holding the controls in his hand he would squirm under those torn pink blankets. Every few minutes you'd hear him purr slowly in his thick southern accent, "Ewww, yup - the wire! There it goes...got it connected 'gain! Damn! Wish I had my soldering gun - no worries then - eeeewweee!!"
As the group smoked crack - I puffed on a stick of weed. The laughter and swapping of transcontinental travel stories continued into the night - I felt so alive with these Desolate Angels - so optimistic - so free...
Time to go -
Drunk and high - I stumbled up the hill out of the woods and the gully to the clearing I had first found - a couple of times falling to my knees in giddy silliness and mumbling witty drunken Hunter S. Thompson remarks to the sex phantoms cruising the park. At the moon drenched grassy knoll I fell onto my back and suddenly the dark navy sky was awash with candy colored fireworks. Poom! Poom! Poom!
I raised my beer can to the stars and bursting lights and said smiling, "Here's to you 2006!
"It's 2007, idiot!" Snipped a voice out of the darkness.
"Whatever - cause it's all good!" I laughed big and free. "Happy New Year!"