Cover of: The Thaw and the Samaritan |

The Thaw and the Samaritan

Published by Gandul in Florida .
Written in English.

About the Book

Only Copy Available

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 The Siren Fails
After all it is about retribution, style comes just afterwards, it is a matter of being an individual what compels any person to act, the very thing that moves us in the direction of the needle ...where the eyes unfold.
Old Cyprus’s book of wisdom
Out of the plane with my two feet I knew there would be trouble to wake up old demons, the inevitable came as a surprise, I was not strong enough, it is simply by way of habit that I fell into a sort of sleep, an unconscious one at that. It was summer and the rainy season had just begun, this one lasted for about nine months, yes, changes are being made every minute on the hour, so, oh but so slowly; time takes care of our safety by not being too conscientious about it, but it passes the way a herring goes through your throat. And now that the rain has not stopped, it could just be a small token for the ever-changing moment in which we call ourselves humans. I must admit that I have none of the qualities the so called decent people have appropriated for themselves as being part of the human character, my confusion becomes clear whenever a man or a woman defends blindly some sort of behavior that has become so rotten that turns into a useful tool. All the reverences and kind attitudes have made the simplest hello, how you doing? Into the most unforgivable sin, as if our whole society depended on the words, please, forgive me, thank you, your welcome etc., a servile attitude that does not become a man who has heard its own beat, but in this moment, when money is the rule, I cannot stop on a dime without noticing that language has become some sort of commercial exchange, without ever having the faintest idea that language, more than a need to ask for a favor, is a simple problem for the want of a particular desire to be fulfilled, but we have created an edifice of stupidity which feeds on such confusion, that we no longer know what we really need, it is told to us; a grim situation.
As I came out from my roof accommodations going down on a black spiral staircase, it occurred to me that I could, in this new country, work on a radio station, provided for and by myself, but money was a factor that had to be addressed in order to make use of my will to make it happen, so I started with the idea of getting a job; now, that thought gave me the chills, for I have never been good at introductions nor at selling myself very well, but as far as working, I thought, anybody can do it, especially the kind that gives you money at the end of the day, or the week or the month, the only thing to be of some consideration was my so called moral integrity, but as far as money is concerned, there is no moral force strong enough to deny the power that money has on us mortal souls, and since I have discarded the idea of “soul” in me when I realized that it could be rented for some periods of time, then I was free to simply go out into the world and give it my best shot. Every time my best shot is mentioned in my brain, I pretty much go numb, because I was raised to please everybody but myself, so as the proverb goes: when a cat is being groomed without its tongue, it is time to move on.
I knew a Mexican man from Florida, a very strange fellow, he could make you laugh without you ever knowing what was he talking about, it was the way he spoke that made him funny without a single effort, but soon I realized that, when you are young without any compromises but to have some fun, you simply do not reason so much with your brain and things go easy, as making fun of, or being made fun of especially with a touch of cruelty. So this friend of mine had the good sense of opening a restaurant in Polanco neighborhood, a place where Pharmacies spring like moss on the shadow of a tree. When we saw each other, the magic of his speech impediment had faded away, society has its own torturous ways of erasing every trace of elegance from your being, but he was very happy to see me as I him. Soon I noticed that he became an important fella, a man with responsibilities, a man with a woman and with plans for the future, but this did not, in any way, became an impediment to getting a job as a bartender. I must confess that it was not an easy bite to swallow, in fact, I did not had time to chew it that same night I started my honorable job of helping get drunk as many people as possible, a thing I had done in the past by way of New York, but this time it was different, people in this place had not the same type of respect for the profession as in my past and heroic younger years, no sir, here you merely served the most weird drinks you could imagine, as if people did not enjoy a neat drink, I had to learn some incredible mixes, not a single person had a straight shot, and the tips were short of fortunate, they just did not considered the man serving your finest hour as a person with needs, for them it was your obligation, a useful arm. So we had a system for not putting on the register some of the money that was not paid via credit card, and by serving this elaborate alcohol-flavor-diminishing-cocktails with the least amount of bite in them, we could get away with the inventory that was performed every night by us, clearly, the manager had no skills at mathematics at all; at that time I got to meet the partner of this fancy tavern, he was the son of a very wealthy man, in other words a crook who made all his fortune in the good old fashion business of muscle and intimidation. He was the lawyer of half of what they call here “informal business” in downtown Mexico City, the ones you find on the streets as movable pieces, which earn, without paying taxes, one third of the country’s PIB, a very respectable sum that gave to this man a healthy cut, who in turn greased everybody all the way up the pyramid political elite. So in order to keep his son happy or to train him on the business world, he decided to put up the money. His son was a very unattractive person, not just physical, but his personality was a far cry from spitting on the sidewalk, he was not a mean guy, but since he had so much money, he could get away with just about anything, partly because the people around him were a kind of his “court clowns” that would even laugh at his very un-amusing comments, he was, as any young and healthy man, obsessed with women, so he got one, a very angry girl that he considered beautiful because she dyed her hair blonde, was taller than him, had the body of a table dancer and had an incredible foul mouth that somehow was appealing to this new-rich fella, and since I was the new employee he decided to call me to a small room to give me my welcoming cocaine lines, where all he talked about was his girl, as if awaiting for my approval –well man, It seems that she beats you up, so enjoy her as much as you can, those come very seldom in our lives- he smiled and ran to tell a few more jokes to the captain and all the other waiters. I got drunk and went to take a walk all the way up to my walled roof, but I could not get any sleep, my head was spinning with old sentiments of murder, robbery and a way out.
I did not know anybody here, so as any decent person who wants to know a city, I decided to go to a bar or a place where women were as easy as tying your shoes, no luck, everything closed.
Millions of birds woke me up, and I could have sworn on my dear mother’s grave that a bird as far as the Ajusco hill was crying for breakfast, and in my sleep I had traveled back in time, but soon the cars took over, claxons all over as early as six in the morning, furious and desperate people trying to get to some mysterious event, so I closed my eyes again, it is not very healthy to wake up before noon where coffee bites you on the ass, and if you have any beer left over, drink it like holy water. After being blessed I came down my crooked staircase again, that, brought me to the street, -turn right and sit down on the park, that is best for you, the fountain will give you some new vistas on your temperament- but the fountain with a huge man standing still, completely naked, was dry so I sat next to a man who clearly had just waken up, and was grooming himself, pinching fleas collected on the night before with his tortoise nails, a true artist, the future of art. He smiled and showed me some stuff he wrote on a piece of a to-go container’s cover, with very small handwriting I could not make up anything on it, it was filled with numbers, very obsessed calligraphy, I liked him immediately, his eyes were like fly’s burning down some obscure corridor, and had the good sense of speaking very little, I stood up and left him to go and walk all over. after three hours of simply stamping my feet on the street, never on the sidewalk, -you should get some rest, some sleep Samuel-, but the benches here are impossible and there is no grass on the parks, they are fenced, it was time to get a girl who could welcome me and my tired feet, but no luck, just go to some bar, have a drink and wait like a Buddhist idol on some window, like so many windows in NY, a beer could be nice next to Buddha and its cage. When you are alone on a bar is like being on a church, but people have this tendency of filling the ambience with music and television, spectacle, which makes any serious drinker very uneasy, it is the new age, this electricity filled spaces, well, who am I to tell the difference I just heard a bird in the morning killing a moth-fly a few kilometers away, but what really unnerved me and my stomach, was this guitar player, singing horrible music on your ear, music he did not write and then they ask you for money, -get tha-fuck-outa-here- those were the words heard from a nearby table drinking very slowly a draught beer, a very funny dressed man, he had very small pants that made him look as if he had two different bodies, upset is not the word, he seemed very unpleased with something, yes, maybe more work, work work, the malady of modern times for this nonsense-.
There was a man with his girl right in front of me, asking for a special drink, meaning getting drunk his girl companion so he could fondle her, I made up some very strange mix, no alcohol whatsoever in it, I had a special bottle for this type of situations, just water with an elegant label, labels are everything to most people, a thousand bottles for the picture and not a single serious sucker, so there I was awaiting her response –delicious, a bit too strong, but very good, what is in it? -, Well my dear If I tell you, your man here will not give me a tip, -It is a mix I learned in Cyprus, near the coast of Mythos- her eyes filled with curiosity, his man proud of the magic –thank you-. She had six of them and every time she went to the bathroom, her gentleman lover followed her almost grabbing her by the arm, indeed a very strange habit, well, come to think of it, she might leave him, which latter she did; after three hours she was completely drunk, and on some table dancing like an electric boa. I left early, no coke-line with the owner this time; it is simply not worth the trouble. As I walked on the Zona Rosa’s shit-yellow smelling streets, I manage to find a bar, not too noisy and cheap, I ordered what they call “cubeta” for only four dollars and you got six coronas elegantly placed inside a metal bucket filled with ice, the place was packed with people that came, like me, from a long journey’s work and were waiting for the bus or the Metro to take them home after a three hour ride. Inn came this couple that the waitress sat on my table, she was very short and he was very dark, they were working buddies, she was leaving her actual position as secretary on some sex telephone line company to join the cops, it seemed that her friend was very sad, she, on the other two hands were filled with joy, beer and tobacco. -Where are you from? You are very tall, and with those pants you look even taller-, I am from the island of Cyprus- where is that? -Near Greece and Croatia, on the back of the Italian boot- and why are you here? - My island started to sink, so I left-, How can an Island sink? -, I do not know, it just started to fill with water all over-, -you are lying, but I like people who can tell a lye- Her friend started talking and I ordered my last cubeta, they both grabbed beers from the bucket, we said some words on the happiness of leaving work, and someone started to sing with the jukebox. Her friend had to go to talk on the sex lines, she decided to stay and dance, but the dancing was very difficult with the type of music coming from the neon box. We found ourselves sitting at a table on the second floor of a bar, she went off to dance some cumbia, and I ordered a pitcher of warm beer and a JB whiskey, no ice; many men with suits with their tie still very much on the choking mode, but I saw no suicidal among them, their girls were all on tight skirts, their legs protected by nylon, polyester or tapioca and the short heels were the perfect companion for the secretary, islands of people sitting down. Crowds make me uncomfortable, a malady that has made our existence very hard to bear, I do not hate people, but it seems that I am more comfortable when they are not around, she came sweating, this time without a dancing companion making sure she would not leave him, constantly looking at her cellular phone for the time, we talked very little, mostly about her, her new job and how she got to be a cop, a brother in law was a captain with the drug enforcement agency. She was to stop busses coming from the interior and check for any suspicious load, meaning, as she told me, - checking the load and the papers, one time my brother in law made 15 thousand pesos from one single truck- we asked for the bill, but never came, so I decided to leave. At the entrance of the subway she said good by, asking me for my cell phone, but as I did not own one she gave me hers. I had some cocaine left on top of my typing machine all night pacing around my room with no girl and a cell number. I woke up right after a friend broke a small stuffed animal in the shape of a knife.
As I came for another day’s work the manager asked me to leave the premises I have been fired by the son of the lawyer, my friend was nowhere to be seen, I left as I came. The room was very dark and he was sitting next to me as I showed him a knife that in his hands turned into cloth filled with cotton and as he broke it, all the filling went flying like beer bubbles walking with no desire to go home, no place to go but maybe the cinema, there I can either sleep or sleep. But something occurred to me, I entered the Biblioteca José Vasconcelos at Balderas subway station to read about insects or entropy, it was too late, but the cine-club was showing for 7 pesos a Japanese movie from Ozu Kurosawa, or something like that, movies should be anonymous, as many other things, very strange movie from the low class inhabitants on the outskirts of Tokyo, I could smoke and drink wine, good combination when looking at moving pictures, it was raining very lightly outside.
The match box was filled with tiny wings, and my bedside crawling with huge ants with red big heads, latter I learned they were termites and as I decided to work as an insect killing gorilla my sleep was interrupted by small blood sucking female insects while the radio was singing something about adventurous transforming people when I decided to burn some fire, down I go, next to the fountain I found some left over dry construction wood, very smoky, my room filled with blue smoke. I went to pee on a water sucking hole, no moon, a very dark cluster of air Beethoven playing on the radio, early I grabbed a bucket and took a bath, blue boring sky with some clouds that resembled clouds on a string…. I must be dreaming.
I called a friend of mine whom I met in New York, she is what is now called a poet, very interested in the mystery of life and its gossip invited me to her apartment to a gathering of like minded individuals, poets and more poets, writers of some sort, one of them could not stop talking about Goya and the artist that he was, another sucking on Baudelaire’s nipple, asked me about love, -love is like a slice from a woman’s ass burning on a beautiful grill- Baudelaire’s nephew attacked me – how can you speak about love in that manner…… pendejo?- well, since he did not know me I slapped him on the face, he sat down and I drank, why ask if you know the answer?. All was fine, clearly very delicate people with an opened mind, night with arches on graffiti covered walls with the face of the virgin of Guadalupe, her mouth covered with a red bandana…. -keep walking Samuel, sunrise here could be unbearable, who knows-. Walking next to the Chapultepec park I heard a Lyon’s complaint, I could see her stomach aching for some wild hunt. Steps all the way, nothing ahead but some heavy drops of rain lovably breaking my skull so I waited under some new building, the tallest in Latin America, taking enormous pride on huge things as if progress was the emblem, It is! Such a disgusting progress and in the name of it all there is nothing to show, well, I take shelter on that progress as meaningless as the national anthem of any country.
Sleep has become a commodity in the name of merchandise and commerce, with its tolerance for money’s elasticity hunger walks a fertile street that has made my wonderings and its colors bright as if someone comes and takes my pants to sell on the nearest market, there, where desire is up for sale my limbs concentrate on nerves, imagine a man, any man starving and very poorly paid, he is no good servant, he will serve no master but the fulfillment of his most admirable need, you must become an artist of starvation.
Roof at last, moonlight sonata, something about this cords, very tense and calming as a ship about to sink, I can see the cliff filled with seagulls on broad daylight, the captain has left long time ago. I heard it ten times at least, joy pure joy. Stay home, do nothing, I hear a voice, clear, very aggressive-like, so what! But I heard it, that shuts some doors on your reality, good, I am not mistaken It is all the plurals of the first person left behind, education has taken its victims just as the radio playing all the consciousness of the world with an utter disrespect for silence I have decided to turn off noise, books, brain, sirens, airplanes helicopters, it is progress that wants to come in with its bastard sons Fame and Boredom, think pleasant things Samuel, yes, a woman once told me that they only needed man for their dick, truth at last, a friend of mine was saying that we should not see women as objects, I like objects, they are ethernal, we do not know how to be an object, most people communicate through merchandise and never think in terms of object, If you see a pair of shoes walking without an owner, would you be surprised? What about Frankenstein? He was a joyful fella, too much to bear?
I once was a child
With a castle very dark
Who had a tower
Who had an entrance
With passages to find
I once was a child
Unaware if its size
Unaware of its sin
Sounding beautiful at every
I once was a child
Burning on desire
I have heard those lines somewhere, or maybe written on a bathroom door where I met a couple of heroin addicts, they shut the door and I wanted desperately to take a leak, there was no way to keep the fluid inside, I managed to open the door and without saying a word started to pee on the wall, one of the gentleman had a long needle pointing at my face while the fluid came out and as the tingling on my teeth started to disappear I had a huge erection while I was being threatened with the needle, he started laughing, my pee went all over the place the door was knocking, I opened it. The manager of the place started yelling at us for being perverted and threatened to call the cops, I left without saying a word, like walking on burning coal, but my two friends decided to make a mess out of nothing, well, they had a good reason, being interrupted like that is no fun unless you have an erection without any apparent motive I fell asleep, noon came before my time, my shoes being polished in front of metro Insurgents station reading the press on the classified section, where the most amusing advertisements for sex, or massage therapists are the stuff that any decent person needs to wake up, -the truly spiritual man goes to battle on a robe-, the news are extremely boring, there is never a follow up to any of their stories, on the other page the obituaries are very illuminating, here you can see how death has a social standing, the big equalizer has been classified under a social structure, and that is all fine with me, there is not a single drop in my flesh to want for any social justice, I have been working probably too much with my hands to think about ethics, the world is too alienated now, not like the ancients who traveled to another region of the world and saw amusing things, Herodotus describing humans with their heads on their stomachs, or Jesus as he came back from his retreat-spa in Nepal and found himself with people doing business as usual, and he not liking it, I ‘aint no Jesus, no Sr. he and Mary Magdalene were trying to spread the love to their fellow men, I just try to stay out of trouble, just like my mother would say every time I came back with a black eye or a bruise somewhere on my body, now it is just flesh and bones placed on different positions all the time while carefully scraping the label off of a very cheap Chilean wine, because it occurred to me that since technology has grown so fast in the shape of a bar code, it can make a person either stupid or not notice things very clearly, but as I saw It, it was an utter disrespect for the profession of cashier that made my 180 bottle of wine worth 24 pesos, (technology plus bad salary and a bit of distraction) by placing the bar code over the existing one, a very simple but time consuming procedure. Being invisible has been a dream of mine for a long time, that is why the career of thief has such an appealing wink at me, as the holy spirit says, “you just have to become obvious, too much of a presence for people not to take any account of you”, It is truth the elusive one, you have to feign to yourself to know something of it, then turn away, you do not want to know too much, as Oedipus told us, the Greek poets knew that very well, and I know that I should call the police girl sometime today.
-Hello? -
-It is me-
-Who? -
-Me, the liar from the sinking island-
-The tall guy with the crazy look? -
-Kinda, I have just been fixed-
-Do you have a phone? -
-No, and the time on my card is running out-
-So what, you wanna go out? -
-I am out-
-Come over to my place-
-And where is that? -
-I have thirty seconds and time is running out-
-Call me later-
Another card, but I had only twenty pesos on my pocket, up the stairs and check my bank, no use, only five pesos gathered from the ten cents change they never want to give you at the OXXO store when buying a pair of cagüamas, the police will have to wait.
I have been collecting dust and the termites are doing their job; for six hundred pesos a month I do not expect much, and he wanted to collect twelve hundred, -men, I am a writer, do not know anybody, but soon will become more famous than the naked man in the fountain- for a place with no bathroom and no sea view, a hand shake did the rest.
Money, money, money, if you got no money you got no name, ¡good! Blood and thirst, that is the question and if you have that, plus a suicidal streak, you can make it somewhere in the world, but not today, nor tonight, nor here, hope is the only thing left and it spills as you grab it and she’s not home, or probably home is not her, so I painted something on my wall, I painted something on my nails growing like mica with a forbidden sign on them while a tree called “jacaranda” brought from Brazil by caprice of a Mexican President’s wife some sixty years ago shakes dead leaves, a tree that squirts her purple dress once a year for only a couple of months, I have one in front of me, close to the day of my birth to my nose to my eyes, next to a condemned building from the 86 earthquake, and I am getting hungry while the flowers of the street hang around the corner yelling at the boys in uniform, girls with tiny little skirts, skirts and long white socks growing from their feet allowing only the knee to breath, economy of vertigo in flesh, just right for my stomach and my pocket singing Luvina as I walk across the street to get a bowl of chicken soup filled with a wing or a thigh, rice and corn for thirty pesos on broad daylight sidewalks with street hustlers and pirates selling all kinds of things but me with a hole day to be filled with some other hole with the looks of a cyber café as I try to write something interesting to my friend in NY;
“ I have two pieces of chicken dancing in my stomach, girls dressed in purple jumping from a building then doing it all over again”.
PS. no PS.
The crapper is on the ground floor and completely clogged, no wonder I spend my nights killing mosquitoes and days ideas that come from years of failure and some good ones to remind me that I have two legs and a brain. So I go up the stairs, the first stage goes from right to left with twelve steps, the second stage has twenty steps and goes from left to right, after comes a ten yard walk, then a small climb up four feet high to a ledge with a nice prospect to kill oneself, coming home drunk is not such a good idea but after the second try you can manage to get inside the window and into the room used to store garbage from people who like to hang on to past stuff, then a nice little corridor and into my room, I like this place, I am alone and about to rain, but as I was lying there on my bed with my head where the feet usually lay, a bird came flying towards my face, attacking me, then another one, shit, my six feet seven lifted up, attacked by two small birds, I do not know where they came from but I started talking to them – hey men, this is also my house!-, but soon enough I was out of the door, fifty yards of red impermeable floor opened to crisp smog, I had to gather some courage to go inside again to see what the hell was going on, slowly I started to peek when I discovered the thing, they had built a nest on one of the wood beams that keep the roof from drowning and as I walked further more into my tiny room, an even smaller bird was jumping on the floor, their little egg had opened some time ago and the wingless bird was attempting a first flight but could not do it, like me, with forty years on my knees, I tried to grab him while being careful not to hurt the parents, the thing moved so quickly that he went through a hole where the cement spiral stair is, which lead to the housekeeper’s kitchen, this one covered by a roof.
I felt like crap, and I thought – is this bird going to make it? - This is horrible; I could not do a thing, lying on my bed with the image of that little creature desperately trying to get away from me and their parents, not knowing I only wanted to help. I spent hours looking at the nest hoping they would come back, but with what? Carrying their son, on which arms? And immediately I thought of stained roof cats, a broken wing, a place with no escape, shit there is never a thing you can do and here I am feeling bad about it, I had to go away, so I grabbed the newspaper down at Metro Insurgentes, the usual stuff, only with more anger, hate drips from every page of newspapers, information, vulgar information that makes the world look even uglier than it is, at least they try, but there are some good crimes, crimes of passion are the most interesting, a woman paid five hundred dollars to an eighteen year old boy from the Guerrero Borough to make sure her ex husband went out the door legs first, we are killing machines, some get away with it, others don’t but a death for money is not elegant nor Lorca’s murder at the hands of some blockheads, then there are the girls, women lined up like soldiers or cigarettes waiting for the call, choose!, I cannot have birds flapping their nuggets inside my brain for long. There is much luck or chance in ordering from such a diverse menu, like waiting for the ball you so much desire through the glass, after putting a ten peso coin in the slot machine, hope I get one that really bounces, transparent and hard to catch, tossed it at the crowd a man finally grabbed it, and there he was, looking around, seeing for the first time. I call the selected number, the horses start running, I put my money on an old one, sure to win some good old warmth, ha! You are dreaming again, here she comes with a neon scarf attached to her leg, after paying two hundred pesos for a room on a couple of hours, for some distraction and maybe some interesting cigarette smoke flying through my nostrils and into her thigh, she knocks on the door;
-Cooooome inn-,
- So…. how would you like it? -
- I would like you to fuck the invisible man, look at this porn movie to get inspired-
- Are you crazy? How in the hell am I going to fuck an invisible man? -
- Imagine what you used dream when you were still a virgin, maybe you are being..........raped?
- Hey men I am not playing games here-
- You said in your advertisement that you could fulfill any fantasy-
- But that is not normal-
- Tell me of a fantasy, which is, snow white-
-You are crazy-
-And you are not a professional-
- I am leaving-
- No you are not, I have just paid two hundred pesos for a room with plastic curtains, lets be nice to each other-
- But I have never done that-
- Me neither, but I have never been born either and here I am-
- You say some crazy shit-
- Let me see your legs, have some beer-
- I do not drink-
- Maybe that is the reason you cannot do it with the invisible man-
- Let me just suck you real good, time is running out and you have to pay up front-
- How much was it? -
- Is… four hundred-
- Ok here, but better start doing something, get naked
I was on the street when a car smashed on a lamp post, a man comes out of the blue VW sedan bleeding from the shoulder, a small string of blood walking as if nothing had happened to check if his car was not too dented, then he got inside his wheels again and continued driving. A pistol shot is not like in the movies, no Sirr, it sounds like a fire cracker, almost nothing, death has many faces, this time it is a bullet, sometimes a pill or a cell phone call, death in small quantities can be called life by some people, like birthday celebrations, Christmas, a bad speech, lack of style to live their lives chasing after money, but as long as there is still false deities up somewhere, on some invented sky or heaven, as long as people think of death as the next life, as a place where happiness is finally attained, we will still have vulgarity left down here, till then I have to get a job, this girl took all of what I had to live for the moment I will look or search, two words completely meaningless, no wonder it is always used by stupid people, I am stupid, but I know something else too, no ester eggs for me. Here it is! An ad on the phone booth;
Do you feel defeated, anguished, things do not go the way you want, You have the solution in your hands, many times without you knowing, people who envy us go to sorcerers and witches to hurt us and tie a not on every good thing that life gave you.
Do not allow your life be a failure because of your enemies.
Only today you have the decision on your hands, to change your failures into success, and your sufferings into joy and happiness.
That one is next to the actual job, there is something here, a secret of some kind, jobs and fortune, are we clear on this? A man gets a job eight to seven goes home to his wife and kids to find they have been killed by some mysterious trick, and he never looked at this ad, never could imagine that someone had envy for his life his eyes his hands paralyzed no blood to be found just three bodies, the young one holding a straw. The day continues before his pain, suddenly he realizes he is free, but cannot take it all inn, busy with regret he finds next to the bed, where he and his wife slept, inside the drawer, a pair of scissors which reminds him of an argument with his diseased wife about them, on the day she spent too much money on the cutters, he remembers that day as if she is standing in front of him with her huge smile that he wants to smack, he did, she bled, he left the house and came back two days later, now she lays there on the floor with her sandal still hanging on the tip of her toe, he is left alone never knowing what happened, just breathing.
She appeared some time before my eyes closed, so I continued, she came with a tomato that was a rock, inside the train station a bus filled with water was waiting to be out of there, me and her gasping for hope to find a place, we looked inside and the people were long faced, all sitting correctly unlike a Mexican bus I woke up in a state of wonder. This must to be a girl I have to bed I have a tremendous imagination to suffer, the dream was intoxicating because of the angst I felt for my inability to leave, she was fine, big black-filled eyes with adventure and laughter, I could have slapped her that instant, but somehow, you are at the mercy of something no one can remember, the material of dreams, as the smoke of a cigarette, or a hail storm punishing a towel hanging on the door knob. I do not have a doorknob, it opens through a hole in the door, no, with a kick, bed bugs and mosquitoes still eating my chocolate blood, how could a laughing corpse welcome me? I have no mercy in my heart, the earth keeps moving towards the sun and at the corner of my roof electric powered cables sing something like dzzz dzz dz. violet and pink-red some meters above my skull or my chest about to explode or implode, what a wonderful death the sky like a sweet-potato salesman, with his imaginative locomotive announcing the serenity of night. Sidewalk cracks are lovely at this time, like the lady sitting in her car to some Mexican music, parked on Jalapa street and sitting on sentimental music, she pays attention to the lyrics of lost love or a lost key, it is all the same with lust.
-Can I smoke next to you? I had a bad dream-
-Sure honey and if you want to get rid of the blues, it will cost you one hundred pesos-
She had a whole house inside that car, a two door maverick from the year 1974 or 76, she must weigh two hundred pounds, her skin shinning from layers of make up, the stench of cheap perfume choking my throat, but she was there and very joyous
-I abandoned my family children and all he was a bad man-
-We all are, at least the good ones-
-Where are you from?
-Must be very nice in Canada-
-Too nice-
-And why are you here? -
-I came to see a bullfight, and decided to stay-
-I do not like bull fights-
-Neither my aunt, she died from spontaneous combustion-
-What is that? -
-When a person bursts into flames leaving nothing but the shoes behind-
-Must have been horrible-
-No one knows, but shoes are important-
-We are here-
Here was a drive inn motel some ten blocks from my house, we parked the car into the garage and paid the attendant one hundred pesos, that is two hundred pesos to get rid of my color. I did not want to kiss those red painted lips. Not enough blue in me.
She asked me if I could let her keep the room for the night, fine, keep it all you want darling, it is me and the statues all over again this time no talking to them, just passing by as an enormous elephant looking for a cave. Raining again.
In my square I was wet, smelly and my feet white as talcum powder, warm up the water put the typewriter to sleep, she obeys when I do not want to talk, the water is hot my feet cold, anger, hate, boredom and the rain, not alone, yet the bucket is ready and I take a bath in the sky and morphine on NY emergency room, cocktail hour she said, break more often Samuel, I said, good stuff for mourners and chocolate eaters and ants or me, wow you are an angel darling as her smile fades I sleep like love or valentines day on the job, morphine and water on oval sky, out. Nothing to do, nothing at all, like a forest or a burnt child. No matter, people sleep like goats and eat like clones, I am taking a bath and no one cares, but my feet, my beautiful feet. Where are the birds?
Green shadow of day
In my cave
No fight no anger
This time a forest of olive and mussels
Never eaten yet
Nor Vaseline on my nose
Here the asphalt is black
With light and water
And nothing
Not a single line yet
And no sons or fathers
Bugging the hell out of my socks
My feet
And my stomach
Not yet babe
Not a man still
Sleep till noon
Company is a hooker on mayonnaise where you do not want to be, but never agree with yourself, death or TV, so, where are the girls, the police, the mother and the father? In the sky, or at a hamburger joint, no matter, they are there and I here thinking of hope and utopia and the time I did not talk to her or the day I forgot to pay a bill, but nevertheless I want, I dress, I choke on thoughts and the impossibility of laughter, doomed to disappear, everybody is waiting for destruction as an entertainment and I want to hang on to something, what an idea, better than a line or a drop of rain tearing my skull, so similar to an ass and love of the word fuck, like carajo here, It does not mean much but what a force, what an innuendo, what a fuck does that word mean? Innuendo, shit I must be loosing my mind, and yet how simple it is to eat, to shit or spit far or close. Losers will inherit the earth and I will be there with my usual gun and trousers where the sun meets the knob. In the meantime the Romans are gone and the Aztecs too.
My poet friend called me to drink some coffee next to her house, but we ended up at her flat drinking beer, very nice place, she must be doing something interesting, showed me her poems, had a good library, read some stuff from Ezra, very boring, she was exited about poetry but everything she writes is too intellectual too far removed even from her life, it seems to me that the trick is to write some slow unintelligible words and people immediately like it, she is very good with grammar and choosing some complicated academic words that you have to look up in the dictionary, - I do not know what this word means – I said, - I have never heard you using those words when talking to me or to the bathroom sink but that V neck suits you very well- , - and what about you, are you writing something? -. Yesterday I could not make the letter Q on my typewriter to function properly so I wrote something about my shoes, avoiding the letter Q, you know, stupid things as usual, what’s up with this 20 peso bill? It is made out of plastic-.
She brought a Chilean wine and some cheese with prosciuto, I lit up a cigarette and while the flame was still burning the match I grabbed her 20 pesos bill and the plastic started to disappear, no flame, just a dull blue lining consuming the money, she opened her eyes, looked lovely, her V neck started to look like the last supper, - what is wrong with you? -, - I do not know, I fell from my bed too many times when I was little -. Listen I have a job for you, it is about translating to some Canadian construction company on site, they are teaching the Mexicans how to use an asphalt laying machine, just like in the movies or something, you want it? They pay well, so then you can start burning your own money -. We sat at her couch talking about NY and the day she wanted me to take her to a live sex event, since I could not help her I brought her to the video sex parlors, “peep show” on Time Square, very close to my apartment on 49th and 10th Av. Then we went to Rudy’s, the best bar in NY, at two in the morning all the hookers and the sailors came in, the drink was cheap and had the best jukebox machine filled with jazz records, we sat at the bar, ordered a couple of Guinness, she did not like it so I had two of those black foamy drinks to finish while she had a whiskey and soda, I went to the bathroom, on the way I said hello to Candy, a hooker who gave me my first golden shower for twenty dollars, she was working an old man who had very shiny skin, hookers are the essence of god I thought. When I came back R was talking to a man twice her age, I had two beers to finish, sat down and started talking with a black man next to me – are you gonna finish those two beers? -, - I like to have one cold and one warm -, you are not form around here, where are you from? -, - Tijuana Mexico -, - I am from South Carolina men, and I tell you I like best racism out there, over here girls just wanna fuck me cause I’m a negro, over there the thing is more clear, they do not like you and you don’t like them, clear hate, simple, but out here you just don’t know, I’m telling you men this world is getting so fucked up that there are no distinctions any more, no elegance -. Speaking of elegance, the man had R by the waist, - Hey Steve, gimme one gin tonic and one kiss in the dark, thanks darling! -, - And who is paying for the drinks? -, - I am – said the old eel face, he might get an unexpected shower tonight, she likes to do that, I can tell it is not just service as usual, she’s got some discrete passion for peeing on queue, right when she is on top she will ask. R turned around to introduce me to her friend, - Samuel this is P – we did not shake hands, - where are you from? -, He said, - from South Carolina, and I hate Negroes -, I said - they are not called Negroes any longer men, -, - oh yeah? And how do you call them bastards -, - African Americans, men -, Hey men, he wants to fuck you cause you’re black -. My black friend started laughing, and asked R’s friend if he was up for trouble, he started trying to explain and clear up the air, the only thing between them, but it was too late for him, R asked him not to pay attention to me or anything around me, so they took off to the little garden with plastic tables just outside the bathroom door.
We started laughing, and toasted on Rudy’s hospitality, while the windows in front of the couch began to swell with rain, her breasts shinning like a recently boiled lobster. – You left me there, I came out and you were gone -, - and what about you, you left with that politician to the garden passed the bathroom -, - he was not a politician, he worked on one of the stores in Time Square -, - well I wasn’t gonna wait for your romance to catch on fire, besides I went to the black man’s house, we ran out of money he said he had beers on the fridge, so beer was to blame for my leaving. - With every passing moment her breasts, splendid hammocks filled with deserted streets with obscure alleys, fuelled my desire, and yet I cannot forget that hand on her waist, Candy had class, elegance, she fucked everybody on that sidewalk, and more, but she had style, she never let me touch her while we were walking or at my house until the time of love or fuck or meat rubbing dullness of habit. I kiss her we go up the stairs to her room. The next morning we had to leave very early, the TV was on showing a clown with green hair talking the news, the same shit in any country, no news, news would be someone saying that a church mysteriously had been leveled to the ground, or a mosquito had just fallen dead while a man was reading some interesting treaty on the moon not being really there, that some scientists have a way to get rid of money, or that someone, a musician, has just discovered how the mind can cure anything but aging, just a little two week course practice and the end of doctors just around the corner we had coffee and bagels, started arguing about the difference between a good writer an a bad one, she has the idea that a good writer must wake up with the tongue dripping ink, I on my other hand telling her that life and art must be almost the same, therefore no need to HAVE to wake up ready to write, slight difference but very important, a man friend of hers came walking down the sidewalk with the newspaper under his armpit, had it been a dog I would have pat him on he head, but this guy was so happy that made me nervous, they had a meeting, time to go.
The morning had the effect of larvae inside a shell on my spirit I had to go to work to Iztapalapa borough, Metro Insurgentes, stamp your feet just passed the ticket depository and an echo sounds all over the place, a couple of young guys kissing, Beethoven playing as ambiance music a blind man singing with a guitar followed by a blind woman with a tin cup strapped around her neck. Cuauhtémoc, the car fills up a young man with a sound system strapped on his chest selling hits from the seventies, everybody trying to avoid each other with their eyes, Balderas station had a big turnover of people, the doors remain opened for five minutes – what did he tell you? - He told me, - and what did you told him? - I told him that you told me, - what did you tell him that I told you?, - what you told me to tell him, - and what did he told you?, - to tell you…. - she showed her the screen of the mobile phone and the three of them started laughing, the doors finally closed a woman screaming rhyming selling a book on mathematics for ten pesos, I bought one. Right behind her a barefoot boy was placing notes on peoples lap, his father looking at him from a distance then he would come back picking up the notes with or without money, his father is a campesino, he is very elegantly dressed, leather huaraches, and the end of his pants tied to the ankle, out of ten papers only one gave them money, what would they do with a gun instead? .
Salto del Agua, time to move my ass, correspondence to Constitucion de 1917. Walking to my next train a pocket with a math book and campesino bare feet child on my mind, too many people on this earth, we get used to everything, habit kills you more swiftly than the guillotine, love, its enemy, is loosing the battle, you can see it, smell it on the Metro. I arrived at Iztapalapa station took me one hour to get here, police girl your life must be hell, I took a cab, gave him the address, on the way he called me guero pale face what are you doing around here, my brother got killed one month ago, Iztapalapa is a tough place to be, but it seems to me pretty quiet, not much activity on the streets, besides I am going to work and that is all, burn your own money, Samuel. No fountains nor statues nor green trees around just cement and asphalt a soccer field, empty, graphitti all over the place, garbage, garbage and more garbage it was early for me to come inn to work so I look for a liquor store wine and spirits as they call them in Florida, I only found a regular grocery store caged like jail visiting room, bought a quart of vodka, Black Bear. Three huge machines were coming from the north/east of the street, or the south/west? My clients have arrived.
Two Canadians coming in front of the machine working all kinds of levers, behind them a flock of tiny Mexicans walking along side the machine slowly advancing into my eyes suddenly Iztapalapa found a monster and all the lost papers, bottles, tin cans, vomit, wasted food had the vindication of patience, there was a monster inching its way through the otherwise implacably deserted streets made a half an hour halt. I took another drink out of my Black Bear and approached the lost Canadian Blondie pale face intruder said howdy are you Samuel? –I could be but today I am not sure, my comment went straight through his brain and the mounted police, he continued giving orders to the tiny Mexicans and I started translating, there were so many little valves that I started making up nicknames to each and everyone of the levers, buttons, keys and tires. The middle monster, for there were three, was blowing flames towards the ground melting the crude oil mixture, the first one would stamp with fury the ground so that it would be easier for the second one, the third would pick up all the stomped melted asphalt, would throw it into its belly and then placing again a brand new asphalt behind it just like a beer shit. I would be following the gueros al over all day. And quite a job, quite a job I tell you, he had to put that monster with the right pressure all the time on all the valves and levers I had to follow him explaining to the future operators all the little but important measures on the gauges to be in place or else we all explode, and by the looks of the tiny Mexicans we had very little time left on this earth, death in Iztapalapa a certain cab driver and my dear mother would have very different grins on their faces on hearing about my death on the TV or paper, the news of the event would fly all over the globalized globe faster than a broken high heel, R would have some good stuff to write on her dictionary, but nothing like that happened, of course, I did not translate doom to my little friends, I just told them that in Canada they have the savage tradition of cutting the middle finger of workers hands who do not behave like a well oiled machine, and that is why they have the best bathrooms in the world; if the translator does not betray he is doomed to be misunderstood to all ethernity, burned at the stake next to a critic who was not vitriolic or offensive enough with the written vocabulary. And I am not about to have such an unimaginative fella next to me on my finest hour, no Sir I have plans. Lunch time, at one o’clock, not one minute more not one minute more, and I forgot about that detail, the Canadians went to a sandwich or torta stand next to a beauty filled alley with small yellow flowers, and a ton of garbage behind those belly buttons which resembled a smile in front of a firing squad, I saw that the Mexicans started collecting money for tortillas, I chipped in with two pesos and went to sit on the sidewalk and started opening the nix tamales to see what was inn them, it was like Christmas on cement, tortillas coming from the near east, red rice, beans, chicharron in salsa verde, nopales a can of tuna, potatoes with chorizo, one of them, the skinniest of us all with his face all black with smoke and sweat, a map from the remotest corner of another earth had a small fire going on with the comal already set in place red chile sauce, lime, salt and three gallon bottles of soda, just add some vodka and let the stomachs begin.
They were roasting each other, albureando, laughing like little children we continued sending tacos inside our throats, and a minute ago we were just seconds away from flying off into the blue cloudless sky for not having some needle pointing exactly at number 5.5 or 6.7 or .10023 all the way up into infinity without a scream. They started playing rayuela, a coin tossed to a line drawn on the cement sidewalk, the nearer you get to the line the better score but the Mounted police had other plans, work. We were back looking at needles and fire numbers, smoke, black charcoal wheels turning a volcano in Hawaii minus the tourists, no more laughter.
I want the police girl coming from the cracks of the sidewalk on the husk of a mule she rides like the sun on morphine, you are far from this laughter, from the moment I was born to this and no other life, the metro ride was uneventful, my eyes were inside my stomach so similar to the brain smashed like a cigar station filled with huge worms station after station more letters and announcements for people who behave well or buy a better and safe life till death do us part in three, police woman are you receiving some money from a publicity follower?, are you religious enough to spend your time pulling my hair?. Never mind, I am walking next to a small patch of grass, looks comfortable, lay down someone says, so I did, and fell asleep as deep as a mosquito. I was next to a god dammed school men, screaming children, mothers looking at me, just looking at me, It must be too early and I do not know where I am. Started walking to where I thought home would be, this is a strange town, not a single coffee shop opened, but my pockets, no money, shit, and I have to be back with the Canadian workers pretty soon, progress must not be stopped, not by a mob of children nor my empty pockets, no way, I have to pave streets to spread love all over the globe, and I can only think of my toe nail hurting more at each step reminds me of that poor little boy in love with a girl twice his age, he loved her robes, he loved to be inside her closet, smell her stuff, she thought it was a lack of mommy love, but no Sr. this was an angry boy, too angry to do something else, her best friend was just an excuse to be close to her, to lay in her lap, to tell her about some movie he liked, sometimes she would scold him and send him home, more motherly love coming his way, drunk, he kissed her, the brother kicked the crap out of him, she never knew why he did it, no matter, she would never feel so desired again, by man or beast alike my feet burn into the ground thinking I needed the money and I was lost.
I thought of taking a cab, give him the address and then run, this is an uncomfortable position but if you want to get ahead in life you must step on another man’s business, this is the money culture, the way of the confidence man, no scruples and as far as the moral of it, I can see it only on TV, that alien world of make believe you are an imbecile, so, one small step for mankind one huge step for getting close to paving streets. We talked on the way, he was complaining to the gringo about Mexico, corruption and how the government steals it all, while listening to the beat-less on an endless necklace string of garbage, now it was clear to me the destination of my actions, if one were to have somewhat of an aesthetic life one must be intransigent, a ruthless criminal of style as a hopeless cornered little ant, and I have no complaints about any government in the world, I am too much of a brute to think about that, but it is clear to me that politics, left, right, center, etc. are just a big con game to take your money, all is death, and you must simply play along Samuel, revolutions are for people with money to think about ideals and great plans, time is the key, the only key and Lennon sings about love on his NY penthouse singing the wrong message, love is hell babe, it can destroy a man or can make him lick paradise but for an instant. Another trick, blame it on that illustrious leach Dante Alighieri.
-do you have change for two hundred?
-no men, sorry I have just started my day
-All right no problem men, I just go into that store and get me some cigarettes, would you like a coffee?
-sure, my friend, why not.
-wait for me here, be right back
I never came back, never even showed a peso to the man, all you need is love sounds inside my head for a while, fuck men what a stupid song, and I bet someone right now is thinking of his needs and how he or she can solve them with love, then they will bottle it and sell it to you.
Here I am again on something I know how to do, getting paid crap for giving crap, a nice turn of events and pretty fair.
Night drinking beer and whiskey bought with my handsome pay for translating there was drink, food, coke and a newspaper looking for a hooker and a cell phone ready to call for cheap love, my favorite. I already have a good idea on the girl, she must be joyful with my desires before I tell them to the world and follow my instructions to the letter. I only call ads that say home visits.
-hello darling what can I do for you?
-what do you do and what you don’t, and are you in your period?
- I do anything but anal, and no period, why you ask?
-my sister says it feels better with a tampon inside
-fuck you
I should have asked if she believes in love and the Beatles.
-is that you again? This is a business
-well yeees I was joking, come to my house, I like you already
-where do you live?
-Durango 86, Roma, corner of Jalapa
-home phone number?
-I do not have one, but you can call me here
-I do not go to houses without a fix number, for safety reasons
-what is the problem I’ll wait for you downstairs, I have drinks and live on a nice rooftop…a garden of delight, totally artificial.
Only the sound of a fly farting as she moves away from the light.
Well well well well well well well well well well my entrails were acting up, and down it came up the stairs down the stairs

The Physical Object

Format About the death of a character
Number of pages 50
Dimensions 12 x 7 x 10 centimeters
Weight 20 grams

ID Numbers

Open Library OL25420799M

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January 4, 2013 Edited by Samuel Dahlmat Edited without comment.
January 4, 2013 Edited by Samuel Dahlmat Edited without comment.
January 4, 2013 Edited by Samuel Dahlmat Added new cover
January 4, 2013 Created by Samuel Dahlmat Added new book.