I fucking suck at Spanish! The breakfast was incredible though.
Oh If I could just tame Jenifer’s free spirit and only dress her in the finest designer couture she should be wearing, force the underlying sense of style on her that we both shun, if only to help her conquer the world. It’s as if she was purposefully living in the raw awaiting my discovery. My treasure. My girlfriend. Damn I love her so much. She’s a ravished and beautiful outlaw woman, cruising the badlands of the notorious old West with her gringo companion.
This is amazing country, mostly untamed, seemingly an unlimited wasteland unaffected by the people who manage to eke out an existence here. It’s warm during the day and cool throughout the night but during the summer the heat must be unbearable, a mirage of warbling watery heat patterns reflecting off the mirrored sand. There are lots of cool cacti here too, standing straight and tall. Very phallic. Their deep green gives an illusion of abundant life that might lay just under the harsh surface of the desert. Jenifer and I saw about fifty buzzards sitting on the rocks just outside of town. It was an eerie scene, watching a gathering of all these scavengers in their off time. It appeared as if the vultures were waiting for a catastrophe to rain down meat from the sky or perhaps they would converge on the town later awaiting a yet unknown disaster to befall the villagers. The scavengers didn’t seem to have any particularly ruthless agenda at the moment though, so I took some pictures and we moved off down the ill-repaired Mexican highway.
I may have mentioned before that I don’t find the desert a particularly pleasant place to be, but I am happy to be here with Jenifer. It’s been a hard trip but the adventure is oozing with romance. I get such a good feeling cruising through the crisp evening air, snuggling against her dirty flannel shirt, listening to her warm breath and the lingering smell of Marlboros in the car. It’s never felt so nice to feel so small, like I’m hanging onto the coattails of a Nordic sex goddess as she tears off on some mission involving the fate of the world. Whoops! There go my ‘want to be dominated’ feelings again. In actual reality I’m scared that my bad attitude about some physical problems is turning the notion of “us” off for her. I shouldn’t be frightened though; I’m acting under the impression that she compensates for my surly attitude times the way I’ve learned to adjust to hers. The way we’re so damn evenly matched is sometimes scary.
Tourism has yet to rape the best parts of the beach but there are occasional signs of hotels being planned or built. It’s so hard to believe its December already and so hard to write down every detail of life that I want to keep preserved…
God is telling us to take a look at this, and God, we are looking. So much to see, so much to explore. My God takes care of his fools and his children, Jenifer and I qualify as a little of both. Old people seem to like consoling themselves by watching tragedy, maybe believing that the world will fall apart after they are gone. Jen and I both seem to be intelligent enough see the world falling apart today and we’re trying to enjoy it while we’re still here and in control of most of our faculties. Who knows, maybe enlightenment with a more worldy perspective will be of aid to our conscience when we finally have to grow up and sell out, and how about a little bit more sassy wickedness until that conscience is called into play then.
Our love for each other could only be more intensified if it was forbidden. Ours will be a love of legends. I feel so fortunate just to be here now, knowing that most people search the world for a lifetime looking for half the intimacy we share. We take pleasure because it’s not recognized as fleeting, but because it exists at all. “Jen, for better or worse, we are not mere insects.” (She just looked at me like I was crazy just then. It’s hard to belt out random quotes based on a whole thought process and then have people look at you crazy.) We are better because we abhor monotony and are not satisfied by daily drudgery, I believe there is a flaccid resigned happiness that comes with being satisfied by mere sustenance. I’m just thankful for the chance to write down the events in my life.
We camped outside last night in an out of the way spot beside the Ocean. It was so fucking cold and unbelievably windy but still vivid and incredible in a contrasting sort of way that only life along the Pacific Ocean can be. The highway down the coast has all sorts of dirt road turn offs and the few we’ve taken the time to explore lead to secluded spots of paradise. We parked the Escort on the rocks, actually a mixture of shells, rocks and a variety of Oceanic debris, right near the water. I built a big fire and we cooked semi-successfully and ate some groceries. The wind was gusting so hard that the fire seemed to burn at a 30 degree angle making it impossible to achieve a happy balance between freezing and well done, so we cleared out all of our gear from the hatchback and slept in the car. It was cramped. One day I might remember it as being cozy because it was so cold that we huddled together in a fetal spoon position most of the night. We woke up stiff and grumpy at dawn. However, uncomfortable as it was last night, it was beautiful that I woke up in Mexico to a clear, windless, warming day with the sound of calm Ocean waves gently lapping against the shore and the salty smell of fishy sea air tickling my nostrils. As we both took care of our necessary functions, even being as disheveled as we both looked, I couldn’t help but notice how the cold air brought out a sexy flush in Jenifer’s face. Those pink cheeks and deep red lips that only a white girl can get. I didn’t tell her any of that and maybe I should have but I’m still shy about constantly expressing enamors of her beauty. I fervently believe that too much affection leads to being pussy whipped.
We went to a Mexican market/store today and bought some interesting stuff including a liter of Coca-cola that is actually in a glass bottle. Talk about a sixties relic and conversation piece! I’m not going to drink it, I’m going to put it in the refrigerator to tempt my roommates and remind me of Mexico when I drowsily look for food on those otherwise bleak school days.
Unfortunately, Jenifer either got pick pocketed while we were in the store or left her pesos behind when we left and we had driven for half an hour before she realized her money was all gone. We drove at high speed all the way back to the store in an intense quiet fashion and of course all her dough had vanished. The clerk even acted like he wasn’t even sure he remembered us. I was kind of mad, well not mad exactly, I was just out of sorts because I didn’t want lack of money to ruin our vacation. I’m sure I acted like an asshole. I’m more pissed that I have to be solely responsible for our well being, as it relates to all things financial, for the rest of our trip. Jenifer is notorious for losing her losing her money and having some quirky twist of fate bring it back to her. Except for the one time in Europe when some Italian stud smooth talked her while he lifted her wallet and passport and caused her to miss her flight home, Jenifer has recounted lots of stories where she’s lost and got back all her cash while vacationing. The luck of the mostly innocent maybe? It was pretty obvious to both of us when everyone suddenly lost their knowledge of the English language that Jenifer wasn’t going to be getting her money back this time. Jenifer looked so sad and embarrassed that I felt like a fool for getting angry. No problem. We both brought a lot of money and I gave her half of mine, we went on our way and everything was cool. I still love her and her silly ways.