Wednesday, August 5, 2009

X stripper blues

The chorus goes,

She´s got the ex stripper, the x stripper blues

She´s got the ex stripper, the x stripper blues

She´ll dance your troubles away with those x stripper moves

the verses are

She´s a gypsy now got two kids on the run

she´s a gypsy now got two kids on the run

they´re three pretty gypsies gonna have some fun

Silver bells on her ankles and a steel plate in her neck

silver bells on her ankles and a steel plate in her neck

gold rings on her fingers and white wings on her back

She drink mezcal from the bottle, eat life a la carte

she drink mezcal from the bottle, eat life a la carte

she´s a gypsy woman gonna steal your heart

on another subject,

The Honeymoon is over. completely over.

There were three days of semi=insanity and then the reality set in and the true craziness took hold. On the outside I am sure the girls look like your everyday college graduates. You know, the starbucks coffee and afternoon workout crowd. But actually they are TOTALLY INSANE!

Just a sample of the conversation

"When was the last time you had mind blowing sex?"

"I asked him if he called us coke snorting whores and when he said yes I broke his nose."

"His cock was like a baby´s arm"

"I don´t have time for your bullshit."

"Good thing we´re in the hooker capital of Baja."

M. "We´re not whores,.." All the girls together..."we´re too stupid to ask for money."

The final straw came when M. was banging on the window of her apartment because she was locked out because V. had passed out and I had said I wanted to sleep alone. (Really, I was keeping boundries up between them for obvious reasons) Genesis comes up and says, as I´m trying to put some clothes on.

"I have an idea."

Finally, I thought. A calm headed girl. The voice of reason. M. was slamming her palm on the door. She turned to me and shouted venemously, "You self absorbed son of a bitch! You fucking asshole." Genesis continued casually, "Can you get a tent sack¨."

"A tent sack? I have a van."


I had no idea what this was.

"Of what?"

"Cocaine. It´ll calm her down¨."

I bowed my head. Even my penis and balls hanging in the wind were of no concern to me. This was the end of any illusion that the gypsy life was a life of happy times and drum circles. A screwdriver hitting the side of my van brought this reality home.

"You self loathing motherfucker!" yelled M.

Genesis looked at me for an answer, oblivious to everything.

"That´s your solution? Cocaine?"

"Yes. It´ll calm her down. Can you?"

"No. I can`t. Furthermore..."

I was about to launch into a lecture but Genesis was turning away even as the word "no" left my lips. These girls don`t hear "no" a lot and don´t say "no" a lot but when they do they understand completely what it means and they hate it. Whatever favor I had earned with the family now evaporated like a line of meth at an all night rave. Genesis, gorgeous, silver ankle bells jingling, bounced toward the barred windows, nimbly scaled the steel grating and began to squirm her way into an opening in the bars until she could throw another broken screwdriver at her passed out sister. All the time M. is staring daggers at me and my fraudulent life. This is a woman who brought a house of pain on a man who grabbed her daughter´s ass inappropriately. This is a woman with a steel plate in her neck. I knew our relationship had reached an ugly turning point. AFTER A MERE THREE DAYS.

The moral of the story is a little murky at this point. We attract the situations we most need to learn something, but once the battle begins we want to turn around and go back to the beginning. But we can´t. The police will always be there to help out, except when you are in Mexico, in which case the police will not intervene at all. They will pick up the bodies but they won´t get involved with gringos fighting in the street. Why should they? So my self preservation instinct kicked in and I locked the doors and moved on into the night. This isn´t the first time I´ve had screwdrivers thrown at me. The van is high profile but the gypsies have no vehicle so they´ll never find it.

My neighbor´s text message came back to me, "Isn´t it funny how sirens come in threes?¨

For a while I thought I was the siren leading them to the rocks, but our roles are now perfectly clear and there is no telling if I am safe at sea or just about to crash.

here´s a candid shot of the family. M. is smoking a cigarette while balancing a hammer DIRECTLY ABOVE GENESIS´s head. Vita is in her comfort zone, passed out. Ah, that´s one for the christmas album. The artwork is Genesis´s pieces. She´s got talent even if after taking this pic she blurted out "Dancing on banana peels!"

The whole scene really can´t be captured without the non stop talk and the dancing and the jokes and lines from movies and anecdotes and Sublime song sing alongs. It was a visual drug even if I was otherwise sober. Intoxicating. Better than David Lynch.


1 comment:

eddie seacoast said...

i wouldn't fuck any of those girls with nate webster's dick and nick strangas pushing. You can get crabs from just walking into that apartment I bet. The cockroaches have to ride dirt bikes in there. gross.

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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.