Monday, March 05, 2018

dear hearts and gentle people



I awoke at dusk and catatonically made my way to the local café for coffee. My mind ached with a kaleidoscope of a million images. It had to be round nine at night, the bars were in full force cause the sidewalks were crawling with twinky Mexican fags. They swaggered and cooed to and fro from one cantina to the next - all glaring and giggling at every crotch. The cha-cha beats thumped as insidious and verile hustlers lurked in shadowy shadows to rob the unwary tourist or desperate old queen with time worn accuracy. I stood outside Patio Bar and nonchalantly smoked a cig until I was summoned inside for a much needed drink. He said his name was Cesar. Short in physique with a thin build and black curly hair. I adored his smile - heated me pants every time he did. Ambled in and was met with smiles, back slapping and good cheer from a myriad of acquaintances. Out of the smokey gloom, Lalo approached us. A lanky Mexican I had met before - a good looking guy but acted like a fucking twelve year old when left to his own devices. A bitchy bore, to be honest. Both Cesar and Lalo were already lit. I ordered a bottle of brew and hunkered down to shoot the shit with them.
We occupied time talking of generally nothing, laughing and playing goofy tunes on the jukebox. The drunker Lalo became the more touchy-feely, the bastard blatently goosing me once right there in front of this hard-nosed straight clientele and God. Had to spat to cut that crap out. As a fact - after I had played Star Wars by Mecco, that tacky 70's disco ear sore for kicks - for some reason, we were informed by the scowling bartender the cantina was closing and given the boot - and it only being 10:30!
Fuck it, we stumbled the two blocks over to an equally shitty shit hole dive called Noa Noa, passing a ragged beggar scrounging through a heap of trash for edible scraps timidly ignoring malicious wisecracks by Lalo. Fuck, some people got no tact, know what I mean?
So, at said cantina – we three sit with our caguamas. Across from us at the rectangular shaped bar was a drunken construction worker uttering drunken nothings to anyone who cared and for some weird reason Lalo got on the warpath with this fucker and began loudly insulting him. I firmly mentioned to Lalo he needed to calm the fuck down and the asshole took a goddamn swing at me! Fuck these drunks, I thought and walked out the door and back home - drunk and irate.
I stormed down the darkened streets with little Cesar bounding after me squawking "What's wrong? Whya leavin'?" I quietly walked on until he fell away.
Stopped at an Oxxo and bought a packet of smokes being eyed lasciviously by a young Mexican vagrant shivering in a huge tattered overcoat sipping tepid coffee from a styrofoam cup and yep, even deliberated on inviting him back to my lurid trap, but wasn't really up for it.
I have come to view this town as so foul, streetfulls of wild boys all night, drunken nacos in yellow Stetsons and sagging pot bellies, distasteful restaurants, nasty whore hotels, annoying musicians, half American stores, jumping beans and tortilla concessions, Chinese Masonic lodges and big halls for hip-hop discos and ranchero music, painted crudely with monolithic donkeys. A portrait of a Chihuahua glares down at me donning a Sante Fe style kerchief and bejeweled vaquero hat. Dust and cold wind blow under a noxious full moon.
The ever present dread of desolate depression washes over me once again. I am certain the end is soon. My end. What a life. I burned out too soon. A blazing comet I was. I went cold far too prematurely. The abject loneliness is far worse. On account of I don't want to talk to anyone. Who would understand? No one, that's who. I crashed and burned. Anyhow, my lifestyle is old. At one time it was praised, envied, imitated. Now I am simply an extinct relic. Despised. Reviled. Ignored.
I think I am going to finish my new novel (It seems the only inspiration I contract to write these despicable prose is when I am suffering - if I become too comfortable, I don't write. Just wanna drink and masturbate.) and focus my sights on getting to Cambo as originally planned.

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