My Own Way.

Marlon,
If only you knew how to win some prizes
If only you knew how to play
If you could sleep nights
Stop your crying
Then you might find out I still love you in my own way
If that's not enough then I am so sorry I met you
It was almost like leading you on
But there's more to it all
Than just wringing your heart out over something
That keeps on going wrong
So don't tell me you love me
How am I supposed to know what that means
No don't sell emotion
You can't find devotion
If you're falling apart at the seams
I hope that you smile
When you reach your conclusion
I hope that you'll know just what to say
But if it should mean that the party's over
You should know that I still love you
In my own way

Riddles in The Dark.

Woke up at the crack of fucking dawn to trudge over Stateside and have a pow wow with the shrinks. However, I was in a positive mood and did not accomplish much. The Intern - Fransisco was his name, I recall - was pleasant enough, he's rocking queer, though. (So queer that it rocked me.) I am in the rut now of taking in a weekly yak session with him - he is the next in line to dig into this horrid mess I have between my ears. Pobresito. I believe it was a good idea on Melissa's part - Melissa is my psychoanalyst, you unnerstand - to add a fellow homo to the mix. My confession of a misogynist I think unnerved her. Fransisco, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship...

Afterwards I trudged around downtown El Paso talking with the local losers amid uninspiring chat. Enough of that I returned home and played video games, ate stir fry veggies, slept. Awakening I decided to go out and slug down a few beers at my hangout when down in the street someone was calling my name.

Went to my balcony and was shocked to find Enrique standing there with a hangdog looking Marlon. Marlon. The fucking asshole. But, I'm not one to hold a grudge and invited them both for drinks - all the while focusing my attention on Enrique and snubbing Marlon like any red blooded homo scorned.

At Bar Las Cavas, we three sat upstairs and drank horrible beers indigenous to Chihuahua called Indio - a rancid dark brown concoction that amazingly enough salt and lime actually made worse. After Queen warbled Flash! over the jukebox, we three hightailed it to Bar Buen Tiempo where beer tried and true never lets me down.

Us three yukking it up for a bit, Enrique left for prior engagements round nineish to leave me alone with Marlon and that's when I let him have it over his previous actions against me. We talked things over - though my first thought was to smash a broken beer bottle into his handsome face - and after the beer took effect, my sappy ass forgave him - after all he did apologize sincerely. Again stating that the gay life isn't easy for him to transcend. Okay. Fine.

After the bar closed Marlon and I strolled drunkenly over to a vacant lot with great piles of concrete rubble and sat amid putrid garbage under a big white moon. The wind was warm and Marlon confessed his desires to me in the most timid and adorable way that sparked some kind of emotion in this cold, cold heart. All the while, though - I thought, What if I open up to this guy again...will he hurt me at first chance? But taking chances is part of life, right? I won't become one of those simpering bitter faggots who got so hurt in life that they live in fear and solitude. No, I thought, I will go out on a limb with this one.

We walked the two blocks to my apartment and after a passionate hug and kiss from Marlon, he made a date to see me the next day at five. "Okay." I cooed like a drunken love smitten school girl. I bid him good night, returned to my flat and fell asleep with the DVD of The Rocky Horror Picture Show on the TV.

Look What I Did to My Id.

HIM: What's a midget?

ME: A little fucker.

My psychoanalyst has stated that since my writing is therapy - I should write more. I reckon since I became public with this blog - as opposed to writing anonymously as previously recorded. (Thank you, Desolation Angel - your time is up.) I guess I have been a wee bit timid in setting down the accounts of my adventures. Now don't get me wrong, nothing has changed - I still do the same haphazard wacky shit, but I guess I have been as appalled as you are to witness these events second hand. But, hell - who gives a shit anyway.

So, here we go...

Bored from waiting till the first of next month to swing around so I can partake in my Second Wondering, I moped around Juarez sweating in the midday heat - a little randy, I decided to steal the afternoon at the porno theater on Ave. Lerdo. Plopping my 45 pesos into the bitches wrinkled paw and spiteful stare at the door, I entered the dank mildew stench of the main theater. I tell you after a good rain, this place can stir up a stink.

In the far inky blackness - up on screen - some Mexican broad was getting her cootch reamed by two studs and I decided to meander down to the front row. The theater was already getting full from horny perverts so I had to get a choice seat and quick. I sat and looking around I pulled out my dry goods and not a minute later a tall lanky handsome college type lad sat in front and did the same - all the while looking back at my thingy.

Some chewing gum smacking joto tried to muscle in on my attended prey, but skinny dutifully shoo'ed him away making way for my seductive attack. The kid was quite the go getter - pulling down his khakis as I kneeled in front he made clear no blow job for him - nope, this little bugger wanted me to suck his balls while fucking him with my finger. The boy squirmed and moaned as I rapidly slid my digit in and out of his supple ass until he came to some kind of quivering climax.

I said my salutations and repaired to the lulu to wash off my hands - old bitter fairies paraded in a stylized ballet of random broken lust amid sounds of pissing and farting - smell of bleach, semen, and shit lingered in that stained room.

Sitting back in the theater proper, I looked around and the fun fest was in full swing - heads bobbed in crotches of willing patrons as the desperate and depraved paraded through the isles. Some Emo kid that I had noticed before slithered next to me and performed the most mind blowing head job on me I have had in many a moon - afterwards the bitch wanted to get intimate and cuddle - told him to skattah. Sat watching the show around me and not much attention to what was up on screen - cigarette, cigarette, cigarette. This little Mexican Indian - handsome as all get out with a mouth full of silver, Seth he said his name was - plopped next to me and we groped and probed in the dank dark. But, I wasn't feeling it.

Tired of this I left the theater and shuffled across simmering pavement to Bar Buen Tiempo. Above storm clouds - dark, heavy, pendulant - hovered on the brink of out burst.

Entered the bar and said howdy to the regulars and servants. Sat and had a couple of caguamas of Sol cerveza. It seems lately I have been spiraling to alcoholism - with much time and nothing to do in this one horse town - it seems drinking is the alternative. Old pal Enrique entered and we had some yucks - tired I went home in a deluge of rain. Striding in that downfall I thought I will not miss this place when I leave - and I probably won't miss the next place I leave. Or the next place...

Cambios.

I step outside to my balcony and retrieve the sun dried bath mat caked with flecks of vomit from a previous drunken asshole visiting and place it back into my bathroom. I stand there and look at the withered visage of mine staring at me from the spotted rusty mirror - the specks of gray in the hair, the worry lines. I am feeling my age and I decide it is time to move on.

But where? Can't go to San Diego - I have a bounty on my head through no psychosis of my own. Or Tijuana - hunted by viscous and vindictive faggots jealous of my righteous virtue. Los Angeles seems promising but the pain of it still weighs heavy on my heart from phantoms lurking in my past. Miami is closer to my final destination and seems very attractive - as does New Orleans or Pensacola.

Why you ask? I have two reasons. First the petty. Reactions can not exist without an action - setting that old ball in motion. Two nights ago, while getting the shit screwed out of me much to the chagrin of my neighbors who rather not hear that faggoty shit - my laptop was stolen by a wylie and professional miate. Drunkenly escorting him to the corner as dawn crept over the horizon and placing a twenty in his quivering palm, I returned to my flat to find my brand new laptop gone - must've smuggled it under his shirt. He was that good and I was that drunk. I held no anger - only saying ruefully to myself aloud, "You deserved that. You deserved that."

For three months I have resided here in Juarez City and have met one after the other the most lazy money grubbing citizens imaginable. The gay sect is a population of hateful, despicable thieves - conniving with the utmost subtly. It is a city of idiotic pilfering - as if the culture is solely based on how much you can steal from who ever.

Yesterday it put me in a funk - not at losing the laptop per se ( I dutifully returned to the store and purchased another.), but the general basis of people I deal with. Yes, I was upset that my book that I had been writing was on it (A piece that is cursed in itself - my fourth attempt to write the damn thing.) But, I got to thinking of my living situation which comes to reason two.

I am a Traveler - the peacefully sedentary life that you hold dear brings so much agitation and loathing to me. At the moment, I recollect, I am just existing - not living. Nothing is giving me pleasure here - eating, walking, fucking, sitting and having casual conversation with the most uninteresting dull characters imaginable, even the thoughts in my head are uninspired drivel that causes me to sit and write nothing. It is an insidious sickness that I know the cure only so well. I am happy - truly happy moving from one local to the next and experiencing all the nuances that life has to offer on all its intricate and delicious levels. Avoiding those over opinionated losers that state that I should 'settle down and become more stable'. Fuck that and fuck you - it is my life and I live it the way I see fit. I do what I want, say what I want, and go where I want. And if that pisses people off - so what? What are they in the position to do anything about it?

And so, the thoughts have been put into motion - I am taking off. Where at this time I am not certain - though the general direction is Puerto Rico. I have fond memories of the place and would like to visit - after that...who knows?

My life is one long struggle and I have come to accept that - I seem to be more literary inspired in that manner and life is just so much enjoyable. Living in a conformed and simple existence I find so unappealing. Chaos is my fuck buddy, I reckon and it will be till death do us part...

Flatulating Thoughts.

Days are long and nights are longer and darker. Suffering from insomnia - up until 5am and sleeping less. Eerie sense of gloom pervades every thought - my goddamn head hurts and I don't know why. For the past few days lay in bed drinking coffee smoking cigarettes and flipping through nothing on the TV with the sweat from the heat of day and humidity of night soaking my comforter. Gunshots in the distance mingled with barking dogs and the ceiling fan whirls to little effect.

Marlon is gone - no life of fairy existence for him, decided cunt was the answer. Been hitting the lush pretty hard over that. William is gone through infantile portals of mucus lined orifice - regretting and pining over that, too. Really a nice cock on that fella.

Feeling used and unwanted and generally all around down - roving eye pointing towards Puerto Rico. No one knows me there. Won't be a trophy for some naco only to be discarded once the novelty wears off.

Everything is meaningless - food untouchable, beer unendearing, sex not doing it for me. Sit hours at my desk and stare into that fathomless abyss content to be left alone and live within the few cubits between my ears. I feel so bland - so numb - so uncaring for all the Fallen Angels of the World and for the world in general, generally speaking. The outside is cold but the inside is colder.

Dirty deeds.

Decided to spend the evening wallowing in my own filth after the decision over Marlon - and doing it the best way I knew how. Swimming in caguama after caguama of booze. I sat in Bar Buen Tiempo and shortly after my arrival, I struck up a conversation with a tall Mexican Indian that sat a stool away from me who stated that his name was Javier.
The beer flowed as it should and we became lit - both meeting eventually by chance in the restroom and pushing me against the mildew stained tiled wall, Javier kissed me passionately while pulling out our erections and casually masturbating each other. That was until the security guard came in and told us to knock it off.
Javier and I joked and cooed and laughed the night away - cruising the few hot guys that sat around the warped mahogany bar. Across from me on the other side of the bar was a dark skinned, curly haired lad that kept winking and blowing kisses, so when he went to the jukebox to select a few songs, I worked my faggoty wiles and learned he just arrived from Acapulco and that his name was Jose Luis.
As the night progressed, the drunken flirting continued as both Javier and Jose Luis (On his way to the restroom.) took turns whipping out their erections under the bar letting me goose them or grinding their crotch against my back side. With the aid of other bar flies that entered, the men’s room became a freelance orgy of hard cocks and kissing mouths. I had to return to the bar to catch my breath.
That was - until he walked in.
Jet black straight hair parted down the middle, full lips with goatee, beautiful eyes and slim physic - I followed him into the mensroom like a good little faggot to check out his dry goods and walked out with a bottle of Kenneth Cole signature cologne for fifty pesos. I even invited him to share beer with Javier and I.
The guy - Ezra he said his name was - was loaded on speed but was so gosh darn adorable in a hippy air headed kind of way he just charmed the pants off of me. (Okay, that is later.)
For some odd reason, we three - Javier, Ezra, and I - walked the few blocks over to Bar Nebraska wherein Ezra became a wild eyed hard on of passion. Groping me and kissing me with such ardor one of the waiters told us to cool it - we just ignored the chilango midget and continued. That boy really turned me on!
So, eventually saying adios to Javier, Ezra and I hightailed it to my pad where we flung each other around the bed thrashing and moaning in the still of the night - best one night stand in many a moon.
Lying there after wards bathed in sweat and spunk, Ezra stated he had to split to be at work early the following morning - it already being 2:45am. We showered, got dressed and I walked him to the corner and shook hands just as Marlon came slinking around the corner literally out of no where.
After shifting silence and awkward glances, Marlon and I sat on the ledge of a crumbling building and talked. Hostile at first - but then it eased into a passionate plea from Marlon that I should take time with him. He stating that the gay life is difficult to transition into and that it will take time for him to become comfortable with it. He also stated that he does have an affection for me and would like to work things out - but slowly. I said I could deal with that and repaired to my apartment where we both lay on my bed casually embraced and discussed further his romantic interests concerning me.
“I’ve never met anyone remotely like you.” He said. “When I am with you, you make me feel good and smart - I can’t talk to anyone like I talk with you. All my other friends are either air-headed girls or guys that go on about beer and futbol. I really do like you.”
And so, this soft spoken and sincere banter went on until 5:30am - cigarette after cigarette as Angelo Badalamente wailed his dark jazz over my stereo. Eventually after a tight embrace, Marlon left and I returned to my flat. Lying in darkness, I pondered the prospects of a relationship with that boy - and the outcome if it do come - sounds positive…

Stream of Conciousness.

No matter, it seems, where I am at - either it be in a filthy shelter or the slums of a foreign county - I seem to be getting more and more sidetracked from my goal. It is true in the last two months I have squandered much of that large sump of money bestowed on me by the Powers That Be. Most of it has been wasted on boys and booze. More booze than boys, I regretfully must admit. The last three big guys in my life all have used their hustler wiles to their benefit and I had been suckered straight into their maw.

All until now. I have wised up a bit and cut all three happily and regretfully from my life. Carlos, Enrique, and with much restraint, Marlon. Uh, Marlon - where to explain that one? You want to piss me off - play with my emotions. That is one thing I can not tolerate from anyone. Fine - you want to swindle me for beer or food - but don't fuck with what is left of my heart. For the last two weeks this Marlon character has played me like a harp from Hell and usually when I listen to my guts and follow my instincts - however fucked up they may be - I never deter from my decision. He seemed like a nice guy - but the stench of deception clung to him like dried semen on the jacket of a pedophile.

Where was I? Oh yeah - Marlon - thank you. As I was blathering - I had no idea where he stood. He never asked for money, which is odd but true, but he was always wishy washy over what was going on in our friendship. I'm straight, he would thunder all the while beating his chest - but continued to visit me (even after a small dramatic event in which I roared at him in the middle of the night in the middle of the street never to contact me again.) he would come look for me while I drank my sorrows away in liters of booze and - are ya ready - he would instigate the sexual liaisons, not me. But - and this but is where it gets wacky - I truly started to have an attraction - strong dirct emotional feelings, something that has eluded me for so long - for him and in a tender and romantic soliloquy explained myself. In which he blankly responded to nothing. Yeah, sad high school drama to say the least. That is why I had excised him out - I don't take sappy irreverence of emotions very well. And I tell you, I am one depressed cowboy because of it.

So, I am back at square one. Money mostly squandered and alone. I am wondering if I should return to my old haunts surrounded by thugs, drug addicts, thieves, and whores. I seemed happier then. But I have reservations.

CUT TO:

Interior: Offices of Control - Night

Dark and musty office of Control. The Case Worker sits behind his cluttered desk reading reports. Behind him is a large burly man in a black pins stripped suit and black fedora. It is deathly silent save for the clicking of machinery and hissing of a radiator.

BURLY MAN:

It seems your numero uno agent's got fear in him. In my opinion, he's a pussy.

CASE WORKER:

The withering faggot! What is he up to?

BURLY MAN:

Yeah, he's a pussy! Pussy. Pussy. Pussy.

The case Worker leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers.

CASE WORKER:

Yeah, but he's my pussy.

Fade out.

So, as I was saying - maybe it is a good time to change latitudes. I need to save my checks but I don't wish to deteriorate into a bitter hermit homosexual. What a conundrum. Again, why should I change my enjoyment in life through the case of a few jerks - even though wading through 20 years of their kind can be a little taxing - perhaps...oh, I don't know. That is the whole thing - mentally. What are my plans? Where am I going with life? What do I want? The answer is simple...

I don't know.