emotional times

Yes, it´s been an emotional month. But maybe this is the path to some kind of closure on my general attachment issues and codependency and loneliness. I am trying to live in the moment now so there aren´t any funny anecdotes to report. I´ve taken a housesitting gig in town and am sleeping in a bed for the first time since August. Feeding two dogs, Chico and Chato. And birds.
It is a new month and there is a two week vacation from teaching english to the kids. in fact it was because of that gig that I was asked to take care of the house.
First an foremost is my emotional health which has been living on the corner of breakdown and fragile street. At first I thought a woman was to blame but then, like the Buffett song, I decided I was to blame. There is a longing to return to the eternal mother, the anima, the lady resplendent, but it´s an elusive destination.

montage

Not all fun and games in Baja. This old Mango tree had to go so me and wayne did some damage with axes and picks.




my spanish class...
Guillermo, Susana, Caroline, Dwayne y yo.

The van headlight (Faro) that is a mess thanks to the battery acid.



More stray dogs...

van problems

the battery acid leaked all over my light system. the acid leaked because the roads are so bad that it was like driving across the ocean. corrosion. death. darkness. and the moped light broke. thus begins a process of repair that will never end.

No one wants to say goodbye

In this land of gypsies every raised eyebrow is a kiss. every woven tale is a lifetime. memories last as long as wagon tracks in the desert where lonely coyotes bay at the moon. these gypsy spirits had day jobs one, networks, favorite bars, and sewing circles You can see it in their eyes. the scorpion evolved his armor over a million years but these souls are protected by little more than denim and borrowed skin.
what is a gypsy spirit to do in the face of such loneliness? The desert forgives no weakness. It swallows hearts alive.
between hello and goodbye is a lifetime of laughter and tears. a gypsy learns to carry his shield high and build her armor thick. the young keep their distance or hide in a cloud of smoke. the old can tell the story of their lives in two minutes. I was a cabinetmaker. I was a teacher. I was poor. I killed a man.
they don't even lie anymore.
so if you should pass a gypsy on the street don't say hello. bury our fingers in her hair. kiss him full on the lips and then run away. don't turn around. don't say goodbye.

todos santos

Weekend Report

Something I didn´t add was that you should laugh a little at this video or it´s not gonna work out. OF course the battery ran out on the camera so there is no other part to this.