Spent the morning - beginning anyways, drinking coffee with the Old Man, that is the Canadian Chuck and his bevy of boys. I cut into the cafe and there is Chuck huddled in someone else's overcoat looking like a 1910 banker with paresis, and Old Joe, shabby and inconspicuous, dunking pound cake with his dirty fingers, shiny over the dirt. Had to jet for an early meet with RJ - he had extended an invitation to his home in Rosarito for an afternoon barb-e-que.
Stood in the Plaza for three hours waiting - chain smoking, people watching. These people in this Plaza…well Mexico for that reason basically a machisimo culture that reflects two thousand years of disease and poverty and degradation and stupidity and slavery and brutality and psychic and physical terrorism. It is sinister and gloomy and chaotic, with the special chaos of a dream. A square tourist wants to come on hip....Talks about "weed," and smoke it now and then, and keeps some around to offer the fast Hollywood types. "Thanks, kid, "I say, "I can see you're one of our own." His face lights up like a pinball machine, with stupid, pink effect.
Was accompanied by a waiter from El Tourino named Gustavo. Hella handsome - has a sincere little boy look, burns through him like blue neon - but un burracho. Wasn't feeling it for work today so he called in sick - so he claimed. Sexual innuendo flew out of his pouty lips like Niagra Falls but I wasn't gonna have it - not in the mood me. He left and RJ never arrived - three hours had past.
Bit disgruntled, I returned home and lie in my bed wracked by waves of anxiety and depression before falling into a troubled morbid sleep. Was awoken by me cellphone and it was that bitch RJ stating that he overslept and for I to meet him at Bar Villa Garcia for drinks. Okay.
A bucket of Lager waiting and we both got ripped playing coy with the Rentboys and the trannies. Again - my head was pounding so I called it an early night and returned to my trap.
Penniless and without food - with no aspect of what to do with my life at this moment - I actually had a good time. I sat on my balcony in a major frump, smoking - lungs are searing with pain and I decided to do nothing. I always state that I am on a precipice looking out into a deep black void - metaphorically speaking and I wouldn't have it any other way. But about that precipice - I think it is time to jump.