Tuesday, January 3, 2012
I Know How The Junkie Feels
I got earrings. See above.
Also, that man. He caught me catching him and so posed for a picture. How I am going to miss getting on the scooter behind him, holding him tightly as we drive down the road by the sea, through the neighborhoods, flirting with the babies on the scoots in their mama's arms beside us.
Jesus God, how I am going to miss it all.
We went to town, we had drinks, we bought these earrings, we went to supper, we went to a bar where there was live music, we stayed long enough to want to come back, we got here and there is a band again tonight. Un fiesta! I think it's the same band that played the other night and please let them not play all night again.
But. They played an entire set of Beatle's songs. Okay. Young. Mexican guys playing Beatle's songs. On the beach. In Cozumel.
I have to tell you. I walked out by the water and I thought, Okay, god, if that's the deal, go ahead.
I have no idea what that means.
Fuck it. I give up. All night I've been thinking about Keith Richards and how he must have felt when he was a junkie and had slipped the last bit of dope into his arm. Such ecstasy. Such sorrow.
But Cozumel is not dope. It is real, it is here.
But for me, it is ecstasy.
I hear that in Lloyd it is freezing tonight. And will be cold tomorrow. I didn't even bring a pair of socks to wear home.
But Lily and Jason and Owen are going to meet us at the airport. I wonder if Owen is going to be all pissed off and cool and all oh yeah, there you are of if he's going to be really happy to see us.
That's one thing that hasn't changed.
I do not know shit.
But I do know that he is going to have to suffer my embraces, my kisses.
As Mr. Moon may also have to do tonight.
Sweet, sweet sorrow. Sweet sorrowful ecstasy.
The wind is singing a song of deep sighs and the moon is a silver skull grin above me in the dark black sky.
Cozumel. Cozumel. Ah. Cozumel.