I awoke in the afternoon and walked with a goddamn hangover to cafe 656. I sat there staring at my laptop as the cream curdled in my coffee. The strawberry cheesecake was good, though. I sat gazing with crimson, tired eyes out at the city streets beyond the plate glass windows. It must be noon. The construction workers who are re-paving Juarez Blvd. are playing an impromptu came of soccer...I'm sorry, futbol....in the street amid parked bulldozers and cement mixers. I sit and my mind wonders. The skirmish from the previous night was pleasant, but the words kept ringing in my throbbing head: Why are you in Mexico?
I've actually been asked that by several locals since I relocated. "I don't know." Is my usual answer. For adventure? To rekindle past embers of nostalgia? I want to go. I am saving money, but to go where? San Fransisco? Puerto Rico? Tucson? Part of me wants to travel, to squeeze out one last adventure before finally throwing in my hat and hanging up my shoes. Living in El Paso has changed me. I guess I kind of do miss the sedentary and stability of a permanent home.
I remained at the cafe until the afternoon chatting with friends on facebook, tumblr, and filing my report on my blog. I was tired and decided to return home and crash. Funny thing was, once there, I wasn't as sleepy as I was at the cafe. I wiled away the next seven hours on my xbox playing Fallout 3. When 11pm hit, I was going to shower, dress and hit a bar. Instead, I sat at my desk and vomited out 34 new pages on the new novel. Weird.
It was daylights savings time, the clock read 2:10 but was really after three in the morning. My body automatically began to shut down. Stripped butt naked and crawled under the covers to fall into a heavy sleep.