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."

"No. A TEN SACK."

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.

Just when you thought it couldn´t get weirder...

The notes for this past week are unintelligible, written on the floor of my van, covered in sweat. All I have are these photos taken by the girl with the peace sign mardi gras beads, Genesis, who harmonized along with me singing Bobby McGee and Never Been to Spain. The rest is history. She knows Jimmy Page´s middle name. Her mom "partied with Blondie" Blondie, if you will remember is on display on the top of my van´s ceiling. It is all connecting, my unified theory of the universe, but it concerns gypsies and hunter thompson and a beach called Balandra in La Paz. we hunted clams in the sand and ate them alive. Pelicans crashed into the water. They drank Mezcal from the bottle and I wrote a song called "Ex Stripper Blues"
This is not what I expected when I came to Mexico but now I see that after 7 months of getting exactly this, it is what I can expect from now on. I believe that I need to cry before I can laugh. But that doesn´t mean I can´t laugh a little along the way.

new plans as emailed to a friend...

Did your parents move to Miami? I think you mentioned that before but it is only now sinking in. My mother is moving to Australia and my father to Holland. It all seems so fruitless and eratic. I've left too many strings untied in the states and also feel that I am totally out of place here as beer is the number one beverage. I don´t know. I should go to some muslim country where alcohol is forbidden along with women (those inferiors) reading the koran. lol. I can´t win. But I think my mission in life is to have absurd observations and to write about them. Maybe it matters to other people but it will definitely even my thinking out. I can only live a normal life as long as I am recording my abnormal thoughts. When the two worlds interact (as they have been doing lately) then...well, it's just a complete disaster. I recently called Hannah Montana the anti-christ. I think that's a good example of something that belongs in a humorous essay, and not something to say after dinner. This compartmentalization is important for someone like me since I do have thoughts that don't fit in normal society. But you already knew that.

So I want to drive to Los Angeles and sell my van and buy a motorcycle and drive across the country to see my mother before she leaves. Then take some time in Canada or Maine or maybe Nova Scotia watching the leaves change. That sounds normal, right? I guess there will be some work in there and hopefully some writing. I´m not sure. I will be lucky if I make it to San Diego or even the next town north. One thing at a time.

SO you may be thinking too far in advance with moving in with your girlfriend and all that. Who can predict anything? But I´d say moving in with someone because it is the next logical step isn´t right. "That ain´t right." I don´t know if living alone is better than living with someone for the wrong reasons but I know I´m more lonely when I´m with someone I´m not comfortable around than I am when I am alone. Although, lately, I´m not even comfortable around myself. and it is hard to get away from me...except by writing about it. Then I'm happy I'm a little nuts.

I want to get some new books to read. I´ve been reading George Orwell´s essays. What have you been reading? Seen any crappy Adam Sandler movies lately? Or did someone finally assassinate him according to prophecy.

I saw some ants crawling in a line to get at some food compost in a bag. But the
bag was full and I went to bury it and when I came back all the ants were a
ittle confused and disapointed. THey were returning empty handed from
a place
where there had been so much food. I could see they disapointment and thought
you might understand.
so it was 1998 and I was 28? or 27? Something like that. But the problem is that
ven when I was 17 and 18 I was not much different. I didn´t drink or do drugs
or chat up girls or anything. I just wandered the country and read books by jack
erouac and Herman Hesse. So it wasn´t that I was old..it was I was always a bit
different. That´s why I went to HSU. It was good there though I am actually in
much better health now than then. I remember trying to walk to the donut store
at midnight and having a back spasm on the bridge near C street. I kept going
very slowly, like an old man and I had another back spasm. I really wanted that
fucking buttermilk bar so I held onto the chain link fence and sort of limped
inch by inch in the direction of the donut store. Then I had the worst back
spasm yet and fell down. And it took so long to get up that I figured the donut
store had closed so I had to turn around and limp back to the c street house to
eat frozen sausages and cereal. That was a low point. I guess I was like the
ants.
Now I am healthy and have no back spasms. I guess it is because my computer is
broken and I have no internet access so I do other things. the computer really
fucked my back up. Sitting for long periods of time is not possible anymore.
I am worried about crazy D. the last email I got ended with "I am the fatest I
have ever been." that sounds like a dark place she is in now that she finished
her credential and is looking for work. she doesn´t sound like she enjoys the
job at all and teaching is a job that you really have to enjoy. what can we do
to help?

Nueva Gomas

The first thing people ask when they get in the van lately is "What is that noise? It sounds like the whole frame is going to break in half."

Well, I found out it was these worn bushings, or Gomas, between the axle bars and the mounts.
It only took 8 hours and 4 determined men to change these things for the first time in 40 years.
I learned a little bit about Mexican approach.
"Easy, Marco. Easy." they would say when I tried to do too many things at once."

Of course in between the dozen stages of disassembly and installation we actually put a 302 engine from ANOTHER ford econoline (1970) into a 1972 Ford truck. Yes, I realize this had nothing to do with my project, but that is why I mention it. We covered a lot of ground today and not all of it was in the direction or support of El Conquistador. That's how they roll in a Mexican shop and I like it. There were no signs that said, "Customers not allowed past this point."


these are the old bushings. Those big gaps are where a thick piece of rubber used to be in 1980. take that rubber out and it sounds like the frame is going to break in half. It won't, but it sounds like it will.

this is with half the axle off. Jack stands. I can't say enough good things about jack stands.

this is a meaningless pose though we did have to compress the springs to fit a huge crescent wrench in there. Let me tell you, if it hadn't been for three other determined mechanics I would have sworn that several times we were doing things all wrong. The bushings were factory pressed with molded metal and did not slip out easily. Nor did the new ones slip in easy. Fortunately we had reached the point of no return and finished the job. 2000 pesos complete. I gave them 200 extra pesos because I know that is a $400 dollar job anywhere in the united states. 8 hours! At $60 an hour. And there were four of us. and we didn't destroy one bolt.

the proof is when I took it out for a spin and the noise was gone. Al I need is a spare tire and I'm ready to roll somewhere that isn't 110 degrees every day.

Two Emails

These were two emails that I received on the same day.

"Here is the food list for alkaline foods: avocado, hummus, sprouts, lemon squeezed in water, herb tea, veg. broth, tomato, grapefruit and watermelon. Most fruits and veg., but not blueberries! I always eat too many when I pick and then I don't feel good, so it's good to know to eat them in moderation. The acid foods are cheese, milk, cream, ice cream, corn, lentils and olives. But in moderation everything is OK. "

the other one goes as follows...

"I had been looking for someone who could connect me up with young women on a pay as you go basis. I hit the jackpot. I met a young woman around 20 who told me she has a lot of girlfriends. I didn't think too much about it until she started bringing one by daily. Yesterday was one of the most beautiful young women with a perfect body I had ever been with. 500 pesos for the girl and 100 for the contact girl. With each girl I get their phone number so I can contact them whenever I want. The problem is that I'm getting tired. Age, you know. But when she brings a new girl by and even though I tell myself "NO" I just can't help myself. They are all so beautiful and inexpensive. This would have worked out great when I was a drug crazed pervert but now I'm not sure I can handle all of this good fortune."

I don´t normally post other people´s emails, but the worlds of difference between these two, and getting them the same day, just tickles me. Needless to say I have to be very careful to make sure I know which one I am responding to. I´d like to see the blueberry author get this response, "Hook me up with some of that beautiful inexpensive pussy! At that price I´ll bang two of those whores!"

I also can´t ignore how I could, in theory, forward the blueberry email to the whore author and maybe make a strange point, that would be quickly ignored. The whore author recently showed me a chart in which he can get laid a certain number of times each week according to his budget. He added that he had "already thrown away two charts that were not working." I found this comment noteworthy and humorous.

"Heh, the only imperfection I could see," he continued, "was the c-section scar. I guess all deliveries are done by c secton in mexico."

I said I didn't know that.

"It's true. I can see why someone knocked this girl up. Man, she was beautiful. I normally don't ever see a whore more than once but I just had to have her again. especially after I made sure she was over 18. I'd like to thank the guy who knocked her up and then split. It sure made my life easier."

¨Are you telling me a guy got a beautiful girl pregnant and then left, probably to work in the united states, and she started turning tricks to feed her kid? Fucking hell. Is that the world we live in?¨

"And," he added with a casual wave of his cigarette, "That C section kept her pussy tight. I mean tight. I was on the verge of orgasm for...like...45 minutes. We fucked for a good hour straight. No break. It almost killed me. Hey, you want a beer?"

This was the third time he had used the word "Orgasm" and I took it as a cue to move on.

"Actually, the accelerator cable on my moped broke today. I gotta go find a bike store with a cable."

"I'd drive you, but I'm shitfaced. You sure you don't want those Johnny Carson Videos?"

I said no. I didn't want any best of Johnny Carson videos. Thanks. And I got on my scooter. It took some work but I got it started. I had managed to stick the accelerator on full speed. It was either full speed or no speed. I had to run next to the thing and jump on when it started. No brakes. No speeds. Full blast down the darkening streets of La Paz.

"You be careful on that thing!"

"Ok, buddy. See you later."

And I was gone.