Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Trampgardens.

Scuttled out of the hotel and did what I had to do, by God - I grabbed my gear took the choking bus up the hill and walked that desolate sky down to the Rescue Mission of El Paso. Like a yellow puss filled cancer it grew out of the festering cracked dirt of the feathered edges of this nowhere Tex-Mex town. Outside the wind howled and dust blew as old rail riding pete men and desolate fallen angel hipsters sat blinking in that God awful bright glare sniffing and sucking on rollies.
Entering the dilapidated building the smell alone was enough to knock a vulture offa a dung wagon. Hacking and coughing of halitosis hung in the air like a thick fog. Ran into some old traveling buddies, though and talked and spat on the cracked ground - smoking smoking smoking.
Dinner was puke on a plate and as night crept the damn joint was full of steaming hobos so I was issued a spot on the tiled floor in the television room wrapped in rags and spent the better half of the night swatting off cockroaches and bed bugs until coughing up the predawn cold.
Gulped down three mugs of Victory Coffee - standing outside shivering and smoking - and waited to be processed by hostile idiot desk clerk. He glared and he sneered with animal stupidity - queer for certain but as attractive as a wet mop.
Will sit here on my rusty dusty until the first of the month and then it is head first into J-town.
Note: As of this writing it just happened. Sitting next to me at the library in the computer lab was a very handsome tough cholo like hood all rock hard prison torso. Guess he saw the pictures that I was scoping out on MySpace - to be a bit racy to say the least. Welp, after his session he momentarily returns and asks me how to transfer the pics of him from his cell phone onto his MySpace page. As I showed him the ins and outs - I notice that most of them are of him naked with an erection posing in a bathroom mirror. He shows me these with a straight face, eventually muttering, "They are for my wife, homes."
I blatantly tell him the obvious, "Nice cock." He smiles shyly.
Well, he asks and then takes down my email and shoots out the door for a meet with said wifey - he looked back and there was a definite rise in them thar khaki pants.
Silly heterosexuals.

2 comments:

mkf said...

you realize that--if it hasn't already fully occurred, of course--you're forming permanent, irreversable synaptic connections between sensual pleasure and squalor, right?

dunno why that obvious insight just now occurred to me (maybe cause i relate, i dunno), but there it is anyway.

LMB said...

My psychoanylist says the same thing - the randy old fruit - but I gotta love 'em!