It´s 1048 hours am in the morning in Durango Mexico, a bit gray and overcast, but cool and comfortable. My tummy is full of caldo pollo, chicken soup, mexican pho, which i ate anthony bordain style, sitting at a counter in the central market. fuckin awesome. apparently, mexicans don´t drink coffee, and when they do, it´s nescafe instant. I didn´t realize I cared about coffee so much, i don´t always have to have it, but now that it´s not readily accessible, I crave it. one nice thing is, no starbucks here, which is cool. mexico will be the last place standing without a starbucks, so when starbucks takes over the world, I´m coming here to hide out.

Left Chihuahua yesterday. I liked Chihuahau, it is the cowboy boot capitol of the universe. Seriously, I swear, every cobboy boot on this planet came from Chihuahau. It´s cowboy central, with spurs, saddles, chaps, suits, the whole thing. Tons of it. I met at least three guys who came up to me, asked me where I was...

I thought about making this a post in the ¨life¨section, too bad there isn´t a travel section. anyway, i´ll write it here for now.

Fuck yeah!, i´m in mexico. i´m posting this from a cyber cafe in Chihuahua. So far, the trip has been odd. I started from Nogales to Los Mochis, we drove through a hurricane. The bus was stopped on the highway, rocking, i swore we would tip over. got to Los Mochis, no electricity, trees down, flooded streets. Bus dropped me off at a gas station, I slept there, on the ground that night. it was nice, urban camping. the guy at the station was cool, swept off a small space in back for me, the night was cool, it was nice. being homeless aint so bad.

next day i went to mazatlan, mazatlan kicks ass, really really nice. i think it was a combination of no sleep, not eating, living off cigarettes, but i freaked out in the room, like, really freaked out, like a bad trip. i slept and the next day was ok. now i´m in chihuahua....

Woo hoo! Saturday Morning, I'm packed, hungover, and headed out the door to the border. Val will drop me off, I'll wave goodbye, and I'll be gone.

Once I cross that border into mexico, it will be, to me, a symbolic dying of the old self, birth of the new self. Crossing the threshold into a new life, crossing over.

Don't know if I'll be back, deep down I don't think I'll actually be alive in 4 months, I don't really see me coming back.

Whatever happens happens.

Sweet, I'm off.

Adventure!

If anyone is reading this and cares, I'll update my travels here when I hit internet cafes along the way.

motherfucker, i swear to christ i'm cursed, it's like i'm fighting against the universe. fuck a bunch of paulo cohelo, the universe doesn't conspire to help me, it takes every opportunity to fuck with me and revels in my bitter disappointment and discontent. .

all i needed was a fucking atm card, i asked for a rush job on it, it should have gotten here in two days. today, three days later, still not here. i went to the bank, asked where it is, they tracked it and said delivery date is today. nope. for anyone else it would be a simple thing, it would be here and they would be on their way as planned. but for me, no, it can't work out that easy.

if this were a one time thing, no problem, but it is always like this. the simplest plans do not work out. things that should be a given are not if it will inconvenience me at all. so tonight i go to the bank and withdraw my cash, and i walk around with 4 thousand dollars pinned to the inside of my pants....

I feel like a fucking prisoner, trapped against my will. Tom Petty was correct, the waiting is indeed the hardest part. Motherfuckin ATM card better be in the motherfucking mail today or I'm going to the bank, closing the account, and just walking around mexico and south america with 4 grand in bills safety pinned to the inside of my pants. When i get mugged, it gets stolen or lost, then i just have to deal with it.

I want out of here. I'm antsy, ever day I sit in this fucking hotel room, eating out, i get fatter, poorer, weaker, dumber. It's fucking draining me. I shouldn't be too in a rush, i mean, it's not like i have a schedule or anything, i don't really have anywhere to go. I just want to get out of the states, get on the road.

I can't help but have this naive notion that my destiny, my fate, whatever, lies out there on the road somewhere, and the sooner I get going, the sooner it happens.

The frustration stems from being...