Monday, April 20, 2015


"Cold. Colorless. A city of vast, moaning silence. Bitter phantoms wrapped in dirty coats pass one another on dusty, trash filled sidewalks, their weathered faces locked in perminant grimace. Prehistoric pedophiles sit in the vacant plaza, huddled from freezing winds, chewing on saliva. Staring into nothing, staring into silence. Beat, abandoned buildings - row after row of them - claw at an unrelenting Southwest navy sky. El Paso is a dead museum..."

- Luis Blasini, Journals 4/20/2011

"An anti-septic ghost town of flabby, geriatric tourists donning Indiana Jones hats and Gap clothes. They snap unrelenting post card pictures of bitter Native Indians who were over their shit a century ago. A frigid wind blows across rubbly prairies that cause the most stoic bipolar schizophrenics to scream obscenities at the top of their lungs. The cold is long and the cold is merciless. But, the bus fares only a dollar...gotta stay positive in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave..."

- Luis Blasini, Journals 4/20/2015

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