Wednesday, August 13, 2014


authentically annoyed carb mechanic
I watched a movie about Americans finding "home" in Mexico. I pondered that topic in dreamy Oggy fashion and decided the joy of extended childhood, of freedom to be authentic, of exploring creative opportunities, is what I found when I moved into the van. The geographic location is more a quest for a climate in which I can live in the van. But I want electricity for the keyboard and my typewriter so living in the van isn't a long term goal. But owning the van and traveling in the van is like when I was a teenager and dressed up in black Ninja outfit and ran around the neighborhood, doing drop knee rolls in the parks after midnight. It's amusing.

That's right, all the flag decorations in Paracho are shaped like guitars. Misty and cool like paradise. I slept until the entire town assembled outside my van and started shooting fireworks in honor of the dead and a marching band played odd tempo tunes. My dreams were interrupted by life
In a place called Tzintzuntzan
 Tzintzuntzan is a place I can't pronounce. How many towns have three Z's in the name? It means Hummingbird in an ancient language, but I didn't see any. When I ran out of light I camped by the P'urhepechan pyramids. There was also a small circus in town that I suspected involved sacrificed or abused animals so I skipped it. I'm learning that not every pyramid relic is Mayan or Aztec so I will try to give credit to the proper extinct Indigenous people. There were hundreds before Senor Cortez decided to lay waste to 5000 years of culture in pursuit of gold.
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.