El Paso City Blues.

With the paid assistance of Salvador the Gimp – Sally to his friends – I finally moved my personals to my free and gratis trap stateside. Swanky new digs, I tell you by standards of past living. Central air, carpet, and cable, ferthecrisakes – I feel like the Johnson’s, now. All antiseptic and hermetically sealed for your protection. Free of charge for the next dos anos per MHMR, your friendly neighborhood loony bin.

So, after snuggling into my digs I took a long hard look at the situation and noticed something quick – boredom soon began to set in. El Paso, mind you, is not the bright center of the Universe. But, it is from here I will use my springboard for my venture.

Sitting in the Central Plaza, I lolled the days away talking to old acquaintance Abel – drag queen of ancient glory. We sat in the park like days of old and watched the trickling of boys parade by. I was approached by Billy Martinez, self-proclaimed manwhore and part-time dishwasher, being a sociable fellah we exchanged cellphone numbers and sat and joked the day away.

The heat is unbearable – this damnable desert climate! Luckily I slunk back to my sparkling flat and spent the evening cable surfing until I fell asleep.

The following morn found me bathed and whisking across the border to purchase three – count ‘em three – packs of Lucky Strikes. Can’t for the life of me find them here stateside. Stopped first at the duty free store to see if I could score fore a discount but the three rude bitches ignored me so I roared that I’d take my money elsewhere and stormed out like any good queen should.

Returning to the states, I once again hung around Central Plaza with Abel and boy watched. Was invited to tomorrows Street Fair by young yet daffy Angel – he an old friend of William Wiggins, who of coarse decides to make a guest cameo a few minutes later. No words were exchanged and Wiggins and Angel toddled off into the shimmering heat.

Was entertained by a group of hot Brazilian boys from UTEP – the university here. The Brazilian musicians were quite good and Abel and I gawked at the erotic dancing as the jungle beat permeated the dead museum of downtown. Hotties all. Brazil I must visit one day and get away from these flabby Mexicans.

Returning home, I was called by Sir Billy Martinez and several minutes later his scrawny cute ass was at my doorstep. We sat and talked and watched a couple of movies – Kung Fu Hustle and South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. After said flicks, we took the bus to purchase groceries like giggling lovers. Once returning home, Billy napped on my bed as I edited a screenplay. He heavily hinted to move in. Maybe, Billy, maybe.

So, that is the last few days. El Paso is the negative film of Juarez, no?