Black and White Be-Bop

Walked into the tienda and smacked down a copy of Gus Van Sant's Mala Noche. Now there's a movie I haven't seen in a coons age and well worth the 25 year wait for the DVD. Bopped past the hungover pedestrians of Greater San Diego - flashy colors and furry dogs - no one talks in this town except via cell phone. San Diego is the dog walking capitol of the world, I reckon. Jumped the red line down to the frontier clikclakclikclak passed the meat grinding turnstiles and into that familiar stench that would knock a vulture offa dung cart.

Sunny day under that blazingly bright blue sky of Mexico so passed all the taxi drivers on the hustle (Taxi meester titty girls?) pass two cutey patootie fags that made sure I was their thing - I lit a Lucky to give those two their B-movie production, turn the corner doing my best and head over to the Park. Park Ingiento Guererro - a hot bed of hustler activity where you can cop a five of meth under the weary eyes of the shoeshine boy. Sat on a bench under swaying palm drinking my horchata and digging the scene as boy and hustler alike parade forever with that all knowing come on look.

Ran into Saul - haven't seen that fucker since the Dark Times and the what ever happened to so and so started and as we all know Saul is the first and foremost in what ever happened to so and so. He states that he is hungry and I could use a bite so we find ourselves chomping delicious tacos of chopped meat and fiery salsas as the banda music wailed. Kind gentle old man - face as brown and withered as a crumpled paper bag - gave me his tattered straw cowboy hat after a lengthy display of chatter and jokes.

Sat and guzzled cold frescas on a chilled day and the thought never occurred to me cause I'm not that kind of guy - but Saul suggested with a raised fey eyebrow to come and check out his new digs. Who am I to say no, Dear Reader - like I said had an obligation him being an old friend and all.

Into the old mercado dodging crockery and weary women passed the come hither whores all nasty with disease - rotted adobe crashes from the shattered sky colors of blue and yellow - climb worn concrete stairs and enter Saul's studio flat. Blasted reggeaton on the hi-fi and sparked a joint just to celebrate the occasion - and I am telling you, fat that fucker rolls 'em! Lit and getting laughing jags - he whips out some coke and - snortwheee!! - and it was on like Donkey Kong, cabrones.

There is nothing more fulfilling - in the world! O! In all of God's heaven! - to be reunited with an old lover and you know, just know, you are going to make it again. Tounges probed, fingers stroked, and clothes where thrown about. Crashing onto the sagging squeaking mattress - the bed boinged and thoinged and binged as Saul and I commited crimes against nature. Like political candidates we switched positions frequent as Saul hissed dirty Spanish through clenched teeth. We fell in a fluid plop into each others embrace - spent, covered in sweat and semen - lying there listening to each others breathing subside.

We passed a smoke back and forth and Saul mentioned that he needed some bread for...well, bread. Slapped cien pesos into those spindly fingers and stepped out into the cool night as a police truck wailed down the boulevard - lights flashing. Hailed a taxi and dashed over the mountain to my beachside Fortress of Solitude to snuggle down and watch Mala Noche.