Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Oregon
Living on my aunt's horse farm across the street from where they filmed twilight was one of the strangest experiences anyone could ever have.
I slept alone in the basement, always heading to bed at about 5 a.m. with a head full of beer and xanax.
It was musty, and I had to swat bugs away from the walls around the bedposts each night as I lay down.
Worse yet, everyone else got up just after dawn and opened the kennel for the 11 Russian Wolf Hounds that would run around through the 5-acre property and peer through the basement window at me as I slept inside.
The nights were cold, and the whole house was heated by a small fireplace that burned woodchips.
My only friend was a jet-black Feral cat nicknamed Darwin, who would creep into the basement at night and squawk at me to pet it.
I slept alone in the basement, always heading to bed at about 5 a.m. with a head full of beer and xanax.
It was musty, and I had to swat bugs away from the walls around the bedposts each night as I lay down.
Worse yet, everyone else got up just after dawn and opened the kennel for the 11 Russian Wolf Hounds that would run around through the 5-acre property and peer through the basement window at me as I slept inside.
The nights were cold, and the whole house was heated by a small fireplace that burned woodchips.
My only friend was a jet-black Feral cat nicknamed Darwin, who would creep into the basement at night and squawk at me to pet it.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Get your kicks on route 66
Northwest US is a trip that is not to be fucked with. Especially Oregon.
I can remember arriving at the LAX airport, vaguely. It was about 9 a.m. and I was already thirsty for a drink. Johnny Walker Black Label, on the rocks.
When I arrived to the Route 66 bar and grill inside the airport, the bartender was hunched over the bar with his face against the counter.
At first I thought he might have passed out, but soon I saw that he was snorting lines of cocaine and talking quickly to himself.
I grabbed a shotglass from the other side of the counter and slid it across the counter, striking him on the head.
He jumped and squealed, then calmed down.
"What can I get you?" he asked.
"Black Label," I said.
"Isnt it a little early to be drinking," he asked with a smile.
"Finish your fucking powder and fix the drink," I yelled, then turned to face the TV.
Some kind of college football recap. Boring stuff, but thats all that was on.
Maybe, I thought, there was another way.
I can remember arriving at the LAX airport, vaguely. It was about 9 a.m. and I was already thirsty for a drink. Johnny Walker Black Label, on the rocks.
When I arrived to the Route 66 bar and grill inside the airport, the bartender was hunched over the bar with his face against the counter.
At first I thought he might have passed out, but soon I saw that he was snorting lines of cocaine and talking quickly to himself.
I grabbed a shotglass from the other side of the counter and slid it across the counter, striking him on the head.
He jumped and squealed, then calmed down.
"What can I get you?" he asked.
"Black Label," I said.
"Isnt it a little early to be drinking," he asked with a smile.
"Finish your fucking powder and fix the drink," I yelled, then turned to face the TV.
Some kind of college football recap. Boring stuff, but thats all that was on.
Maybe, I thought, there was another way.
Monday, November 9, 2009
La Jaiba Loca
Exhausted. Been all over the city today and it's only 12:30. I am hungry so I stopped by la jaiba loca, Queretaro's greatest restaurant.
There was almost no one in there that early, except for me and some old fisherman sitting and sipping a brew in the corner.
I walked into the fishy establishment and took a seat.
But that is not an interesting story...
Well, just a few more hours until I am on the bus to Mexico City. I hope the meal they are serving is good.
You never know. Most likely a sandwich and a soda. But I can live with that.
I am chomping at the bit here. There is no farewell dinner. No big send-off. Just a box of Saladitas and a dream. Maybe one last beer before the road?
No. Stay sober. Enjoy the final hours here. Once you are on the bus, you are free to move about the country.
Drink this Mojito-flavored 7-Up. That ought to raise your spirits. Sometimes a great notion.
There was almost no one in there that early, except for me and some old fisherman sitting and sipping a brew in the corner.
I walked into the fishy establishment and took a seat.
But that is not an interesting story...
Well, just a few more hours until I am on the bus to Mexico City. I hope the meal they are serving is good.
You never know. Most likely a sandwich and a soda. But I can live with that.
I am chomping at the bit here. There is no farewell dinner. No big send-off. Just a box of Saladitas and a dream. Maybe one last beer before the road?
No. Stay sober. Enjoy the final hours here. Once you are on the bus, you are free to move about the country.
Drink this Mojito-flavored 7-Up. That ought to raise your spirits. Sometimes a great notion.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
twilight
The countdown continues. Two days until I am set to be at the airport in Mexico City, waiting patiently for the last train to Los Angeles.
Tomorrow I finalize my travel documents and get a copy of my lost travel visa and leave Queretaroo on a bus bound for Mexico City.
I am sitting here in the TV room of Proyecto Queretaro and I am doing whatever I can to distract myself from the fact that I have not packed a thing.
I have laundry still at the cleaners down the street and stuff scattered around the house.
Don't Panic.
Keep Calm. Carry On.
Plenty of time to pack.
Tomorrow I finalize my travel documents and get a copy of my lost travel visa and leave Queretaroo on a bus bound for Mexico City.
I am sitting here in the TV room of Proyecto Queretaro and I am doing whatever I can to distract myself from the fact that I have not packed a thing.
I have laundry still at the cleaners down the street and stuff scattered around the house.
Don't Panic.
Keep Calm. Carry On.
Plenty of time to pack.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Alone in the dark
Sitting here on this cold Queretaro night listening to dogs barking in the street and the sound of people partying outside. It is a noise I will miss dearly when I leave in two days.
I have been sipping slowly on this tall bottle of Mezcal, and washing it down with Pacifico and Garci Crespo.
How many nights has it been. Nearly two months. Sitting here in this messy table of soda and tostadas and Saladitas with a bottle of chipotle hot sauce and several packets of Jalepeno from burger king.
Pirated CDs and DVDs are scattered about the table.
A bottle of hand sanitizer and a painted burger king hat.
A lone cricket chirps outside my window.
Will I remember this cold night? Ten years in the future, will I be able to look back at this post and understand what it all meant. This wierd moment in time with mariachi music blaring from the neighbors yard and young children screaming in the street.
What was the purpose of this trip... This long excursion into another world.
Is there a reason for it all?
I guess only time will tell.
But for now I have to face the BIG question. What will I do when I get back?
I have been sipping slowly on this tall bottle of Mezcal, and washing it down with Pacifico and Garci Crespo.
How many nights has it been. Nearly two months. Sitting here in this messy table of soda and tostadas and Saladitas with a bottle of chipotle hot sauce and several packets of Jalepeno from burger king.
Pirated CDs and DVDs are scattered about the table.
A bottle of hand sanitizer and a painted burger king hat.
A lone cricket chirps outside my window.
Will I remember this cold night? Ten years in the future, will I be able to look back at this post and understand what it all meant. This wierd moment in time with mariachi music blaring from the neighbors yard and young children screaming in the street.
What was the purpose of this trip... This long excursion into another world.
Is there a reason for it all?
I guess only time will tell.
But for now I have to face the BIG question. What will I do when I get back?
Friday, November 6, 2009
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