Pico de Orizaba

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

Friday, February 20, 2015

Under investigation for using words...

When they investigate you, do they truly know what you truly wrote?  Investigated because in July 2011 I wrote that in the 1990s a friend had a Mexican boyfriend who took her to the coast of Colima for a visit with his mother, who's boyfriend's brother was a drug runner and was later tied to a coconut palm and...?  If I write the word "drugs", am I worthy of an investigation...  For a moment not long before leaving the U.S. for Mexico and just before having my J-Pouch Surgery and rectum removed... It makes you cringe, doesn't it? RECTUM!  ... I worked with homeless veterans and drug addicts... crack and heroin addicts...  My first semester at Hampshire College in Amherst Massachussetts, Fall 1993, there was an "epidemic" of heroin overdoses on certain campuses in the region (1 died at Bennington College; 2 at Connecticut College--truthfully I don't remember the name of the college and I'm blocking on the name of the city between Hartford and Holyoke)... A rich "boy's" sport at that moment...  When my younger sister was experimenting with acid in the late 80s and cocaine a few years later, I still had never seen the white powder outside of movies like Scarface...  And, I'm sure I've written this before...  So, you could say that it was strange that I was councelling cocaine and heroin addicts at the time of 9/11...  

"Today" in Mexico, I don't make friends because I don't drink... and you must be a compa in order to have male friends here... In Leon a few weeks ago, my neighbor asked me when we would go for a few beers... and I explained that I haven't drunk beer in almost a year... And he asked me if I drink whisky... which I've never drunk... how about tequila... And then he asked Margarita if it were ok with her if I went out with him and his friends bring with you your mineral water...  And, of course, I declined...  

I've never been that partier...  I've never enjoyed those social gatherings...  I was a rain on the parade... always...  Just because I have an alternative mind, doesn't mean that I appreciate that lifestyle... Last year we stumbled across "The Wolf of Wallstreet" and you have no idea how embarrassed and offended I felt... How many years I've been telling Mexicans that "my" United States isn't like that...  And where was I those years that everyone else was doing what I didn't know about? My younger sister's parties... My mother's probable swinging not long after my father's death... What my sister and what my mother experimented with, I have never seen...  And people have always arched their eyebrows and asked, "are you kidding?!!!"  

And fortunately for me, as I sure you've heard me say frequently before... I had enough problems in my youth than to have further re-structured or disenravelled my mind with drugs...  I remember the friend of Peter's sister's friend offering to sell us cocaine at the cinema on the Somerville circle back in 1985... Peter looked at me and I said, absolutely NOT! since the idea scared the shit out of me...  But, what if I had said, "yes"...?  Do you know slippery slopes?  I do... enough to avoid them, even when my mind supposedly wasn't working near well at the age of 15-16...  Even in the late 90s in Manhattan when Michael suggested I go with him to a rave and try Exstasy...  I said, NO THANKS... and Michael isn't a bad person or a pusher... he thought it was part of the spiritual or existential experience... And in as much more experienced as it may seem Michael is, he has also been much more naive than I... Can a naive person be harmful?  Can a less naive person be harmless?  Or these are truly just questions of perspective...

And if I say I'm being investigated, does that make me guilty of something?

Read Solzhenitzen's "Gulag Archipelago" and see how Lenin and Stalin "defined" guilt...  Thank god for not being born in the Soviet Union... At any given time you could be arrested and sent to a concentration (work) camp for between 10 and 25 years or put on the firing line for having written a series of words or for not having written anything at all...  Imagine, if you return home to your wife in bed with another man and you kill (now I could be investigated for using the word "kill") that man, you could be encarcelated for homicide.  However, if that man is "party worker", you will be accused of an act against the Revolution and given capital punishment.  Now, if you only threatened that man with something bad happening, you would be accused of threatening terrorist acts against the "Revolution" or against the "Soviet"...  Do you understand what I'm saying?  Do you think that Solzhenitzen invented what he wrote (risking his life 1,000 times more than you would ever imagine risking yours) or that it was Western Capitalist propaganda?  But, it has been written that this very non fiction piece of writing is what gave Solzhenitsen the Nobel Prize for literature (that he did not accept, since he was living in the Soviet Union and he would have been "punished" harshly for accepting the award, for the same reasons Boris Pasternak refused the award also)...

I wonder why I write things that could unjustly cause me problems...  But, I believe in truth, justice, understanding and honesty much more do I believe in comfort... Granted, if something bad happens to me, it is possible that in that moment of discomfort I may wish for have been a gopher in a hole most of my Mexican life and not shared my innocuous experiences and socio-political-spiritual beliefs...  Granted, I am sure that most of those who have investigated me since 2006, when they crashed my computer in Xalapa for inquiring about John Kenneth Turner after he published Mexico Barbaro, have realized that they've greatly wasted their time with this incredibly boring Gringo or Expat.  I'm sure you've come to that same conclusion about my writings...

That's the conclusion I've come to... Although, occasionally when I notice someone has returned repeatedly to one of my writings, I finally decide to re-read it... And, like something I just re-read after having written it in July 2011, since someone entered that piece at 11pm Central Time last night just over 280 times (makes you wonder, what I wrote about that "friend's" experience in Colima in the 90s, years before I would ever dream of "visiting" Mexico).  And, "someone" from France, Russia, the Ukraine, Turkey and a few Asian countries has found my writings interesting... for a good while now and visits daily for at least over a year...  No, I can't know who they are.  I basically know when it is my mother and possibly my sister's boyfriend... Granted, it could be James or Milo and not the sister's boyfriend.  But, I basically know when it is my mother...  How and why?  Not important...

And I have a general hunch when it is an "organization"... investigating...  Hey guys!  ¡Hola! ¿que tal?  The U.S. department of homeland security... the CIA...  the Mexican Federal Police...  Does it really matter?  For years, I've occasionally wished for a visit from them for having a conversation... so that they can finally leave this behind...  It causes unnecessary head aches...  Granted, depending upon who visits, determines the style of the meeting...  I don't see the Mexican Federal Police as much different from the organized crime that extortion and kidnap...  I wish I were incorrect.  The CIA?  Who do you think created all of this "organization" in Mexico?

And you may ask, "why do you write this believing that they are reading you?"  

I guess because "they" trained me well as a child/student believing in the 1st and the 4th ammendments...  And, yes, I'm not living in the U.S.  But, I'm still a U.S. citizen... I'm not sure if that's truly worth what they have us believe it's worth...

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