Pico de Orizaba

Pico de Orizaba
Taken from Huatusco, Veracruz, the closest town to Margarita's family's ranch.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Stained, Worn-out Panties; Conversations with a Past Life, June 1st

I kind of got tired of Bossa Nova.  Probably not.  Good mood music.  After James suggested I buy Astrud Giberto, I remember walking through Prospect Park listening to her during a snow storm.  Snow storm in Brazil...?  Drug over-dose and musical artists is a very promising combination.  When my mother brought my giant album of cds that my younger sister Beth was guarding for me, some of my discs were missing.  But some of the discs that arrived here I never heard before, such as Blind Melon and "Blood Flowers" by the Cure.  During a moment of rage against myself within the situation I found myself in Xalapa, I lanced the discman against the wall, also shattering the Cure.  For some reason I always think of Johny Depp when I think of the Cure.  Probably because Edward Scissor Handsappeared at the same time that Beth introduced us to The Cure.  Depp is one of my favorite actors.  Better yet is that he never thought of being an actor.  He was trying to find himself in the L.A. music industry when his girlfriend of the time was studying under (I believe) Nicolas Cage.  She introduced Cage to Depp and Cage introduced Depp to Holiwood. How about that for the Associative Property of geometry?; If A=B and B=C then A=C.  I wasn't a good student at Somerville, but I learned a little from Mr. Gonzalez, the biggest Speedy Gonzalez I have ever known.  I always imagined him with a sombrero.  I won as class clown by finally making him crack a smile and he won as teacher by making me #1 in his class that semester...  I only remember the teachers who actually taught me something and enjoyed the process, because they taught me also to enjoy the process...  The CD of Blind Melon my sister sent me by accident is very impressive.  I like the way he thinks within his lyrics.  However, I remember hearing or reading that the singer/song writer committed suicide, which I find very sad.  Someone so intelligent with very good ideas to share with others...  Just in case I'm incorrect, I will double check on internet.  I checked and learned that, sorry, it was a cocaine overdose...  Shannon Hoon and Blind Melon were connected with Guns-N-Roses; Axl Rose was high school friend of Shannon´s sister... Need I say more?  You don't get anywhere alone; my argument about poverty and pulling oneself up from their bootstraps. Some of my brother-in-laws blatantly ignore me because the see me as a rich and privileged Gringo, although I brought their cafe to a more lucrative market and introduced them to the luxury form of consumption, Cappuccino and Frappuccinos... At the ranch they only know cafe de olla (you boil a pot of water and you put in ground coffee) and Nescafe.  Yes, I said it, Nescafe, in a heavy coffee producing region of the world... Some of my brother-in-law mention things to Margarita instead of talking directly to me and then Margarita says...  And I say, "why don't they ask me directly?" and she responds, "I noticed that many of them still have this problem...."  I said to José Francisco
once, "why don't you ask me if you know that I'm the one who manages the accounts and I'm the one who does all the purchasing?  You don't have to ask Margarita who just turns to me and asks me the same question.  I feel offended.  I'm human too..."  The thing is that, if they don't want to talk to me or if they don't have the guts to talk to me, then I don't want to share with them either...  Who loses in the end? 
Last night I said to myself, "Ross, why do you do this to Natalie?" and I fell into a dark mood, although the dark mood is connected with opening this can of worms or barril of snakes... this past weekend... Within this dark mood I asked who would truly want to read this stuff? and who am I kidding?  I have a tendency to put aside the fantasies, like the painting and the writing and I'm calm for awhile.  I put aside the painting 7 years in order to build my marriage with Margarita.  The painting turns into a dangerous obsession that does not pay the bills.  I say to myself, "later on, after the age of 50, I'll have the situation to be able to paint and write."  The problem is that the political-violence situation we are seeing here in Mexico kind of squelches those dreams of having the time and the money to live so flexibly tomorrow.  I tell myself (the imaginary audience in my head, conversations with friends who aren't here, no one is here) "I am not a writer"... I am and I am not... However, for some reason I carry this idea with me since before going to Hampshire College that I will write...  While suffering within the job search after graduating from Hampshire, my mother said repeatedly, "why don't you look for work as a corporate writer...?"  It wasn't a question she was speaking...  She just didn't get the point...  I have this problem, I don't believe that the ends always justify the means...  The cupcake business made people happy.  The coffee business helps build hope in the future for my in-laws...  If you don't gain anything personal from my writing, why subject you to this?  I am very selfish. However I don't want that selfishness to affect people negatively.  I would love to have so much money to be able to give me the lifestyle I dream of.  Yet, I don't want to feel vacant inside during the "process" because the process is vacant...  For a moment you must feel that you are participating in something helpful or constructive, no? And that's the problem. I can't fool myself and I can't fool others.  But, who would want to read this stuff?

About the barril of snakes...  I said to myself "denile protects you from a mental breakdown."  Removing 100 "friends" from Facebook can be seen as logical for the reasons I have. And it can be seen as a bad sign; the beginning of a break-down.  The bi-polars or manic depressives (changing terms for the same thing) are awesome for history and the art world and the rest of the world´s industries, when they are up (obsessive-compulsive)...  When Monica (the monster Puerto Riqueña) and I were with her mother in San Juan for Christmas and New Years 1998, her mother was up 24+ hours removing the furniture to truly clean the house for a fiesta few people would visit.  She did it by herself...  My mother is obsessive, but she plans and she divides the work into a 3 or 4 day period, giving herself her typical 5 hours of sleep... My uncle Henry also learned to sleep 4-5 hours a night because of being a doctor. 
I don't approve of denile, because of the way it plays out in my family.  But, if I won't become successful from this barril of snakes, why open it?  But then I think of all the "info" I have that can be interwoven in a story of non-fiction and I think I can sacrifice myself in the risk of telling people that I am a pathetic fool...  I don't say this for you to pity me.  We're in the post-modern 20th/21st century world of fast-paced illusions.  Paris Hilton is real, although 100% artificial.  You don't learn just how crazy was Howard Hughes until after his death, especially with the Leonardo Dicaprio film, "The Aviator"... As long as you make money and you invent things and you build industries, all is well.  In the art world you must have lots of friends and in the right places and you must have a very attractive socio-political image if not a super shocking image that sells shock waves. 

I never was a music or film buff...  So much less so with films, since I never justified the cost of the movies.  Plus, I feel television and videos are a basic waste of time when you can be reading and obsorbing so much more. During college I stopped listening to lyrical music, since my brain created an obsession with the flow of words and tunes when it was tired and needed to concentrate on the studies.  After police officers robbed my stereo when we started travelling around the country with our coffee bar 4 years ago, I stopped listening to music; not intentionally like during the 3 years in college, but because I learned that the silence, during the 8 to 20 hour car trips, was manageable and then productive.  When we travel without music we have much better conversations.  Margarita and I talk much more in the car or during our walks than when we are working or at home... And then I found that the silence in my head helped me think much more clearly.  I finally had myself and not the moods of the musicians and the issues they sang...

I have 7 "planets" with signs ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication and thinking...  Two are Gemini and 5 are Virgo.  I don't know if that is bad or good.  There are no bad horoscopes (astrological charts)...  Each person is put on this planet for a purpose; some are here just to be "canyon fodder"--pawns in a chess game.  Others are fortunate, like Beth with her rising sign in Leo and Scott with his Moon in Leo.  The twentieth/twenty-first centuries are about image and brillando (shining).  Which would the average person prefer:1) falling in-love or 2) the relationship?

I remember seeing a film in the 90s or before 2002...  I don't know if it was one of those that takes place in Red Bank County New Jersey, down the shore...  It revolves around an alternative vinyl record store; the narrator was talking about the realities of relationships and one of the first realities in dating someone new is that when she first takes off her clothes she is wearing her nicest panties.  But when the relationship has established itself those panties are replaced by stained underwear with holes...  It's a metaphore...
I guess I am those stained and worn-out panties.  Maybe I'll change my name.

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