San Cristobal

Last night, this really sexy man, an Andreas, put his phone to my ear to play me songs, some Mariah Carey ones mainly, including ¨Against All Odds.¨ The previous night I had attempted to sing that same song at a karaoke bar, doing a pretty terrible job, realizing what an impressive song that one is, how much vocal power it requires, how much vocal power I lack. That same night, I sang a few Soda Stereo songs, including ¨Nada Personal,¨ those a lot more successful. But this boy playing this song to me last night, originally done by Phil Collins, provided a nice instance of symmetry, of the previous night somehow interesecting with the one last night, of them all intersecting, and of there perhaps being some symbolism, a message, in the song that I am supposed to recieve.

It could be that, or it could have been that I was at a gay bar last night, Gloss, and that really if someone at a gay bar is going to play you songs on their phone, it should not be too surprising for those to be by Mariah Carey.

He was incredibly sexy to me, tall, a big gelled back mess of hair, big hands. We touched a bit, me feeling his legs, gliding my hand along his pants, feeling no line of underwear, sticking my hand slightly underneath the belt of his pants to confirm and feeling no underwear, feeling smooth skin, skin I wanted to touch more, so much more. When Bonnie went to the bathroom, we started making out, and to kiss this boy provided sparks that a kiss has yet to in Mexico, something magic about it, me so full of desire and this kiss satifsying that desire in some ways and yet increasing it a hundredfold in other ways. He had to wake up early for work and so I couldn´t go home with him.

Bonnie and I walked back through these beautiful colonial streets of San Cristobal, back to our hotel, the city´s power going out a few times on the walk home for brief moments, streetlights going out and the city seeming darker, scarier, and more beautiful in those moments, drunken screams of joy erupting from bars and dark corners with each power outage, with each descent into darkness, everyone taking so much pleasure in technology´s failure, in a brief taste, brief enough to be safe, of chaos.

The churches here are really beautiful, the streets are, and so too is the weather, gorgeous sunny warm days, and with the setting of the sun, an onset of chilliness, the cold making you desire warmth, touch, a cup of coffee, something. And I am about to head out to Chaluma, an indigenious village nearby, and in less than a week I will be leaving this country for the one I claim as my own, for the city I do, heading toward people I want to kiss and sleep next to.