Dispatches from The Mayan Empire

"You bravos had better be ready to fight, or we'll never get out of East Texas tonight, but the trail is long and the river is wide, and my ride's here" - Warren Zevon, My Ride's Here + + + My day tends to start around 10:30am or so most of the time. No more early mornings on the corners barking or occasionally DJ'ing for Vampiz has allowed me to set my own schedule for work (writing, which tends to be in fits and starts throughout the day unless I'm on a roll). Which is nice, since I am not a morning person. I tend to shamble out of bed like something from the 'Legend of Boggy Creek' films, swallow my morning fistful of pills (allergy meds, the price I pay for my lovely cat, vitamins, and acetaminophen with codeine to allow me to move without wincing in pain constantly). After that its typically a lovely hot shower thanks to my miracle shower head with a built in heating unit. I admit its not the safest of showers, but it is hot, with...

"As if you were dismayed. Be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air." - Prospero, The Tempest (Act IV, Scene I)  + + + A young man with a thick Midwestern accent is smoking pot, crack, and who knows what other things, in the Crack Shack behind my squat at Carlito's Cafe. He is speaking loudly, via speakerphone, with his girlfriend who is somewhere cold and complaining, no shit, about how the tractor is broke and Old Man Rogers (again, no shit, she actually called her neighbor that) needs help and her daddy is just working himself to death. [[The first and last bit of art on the walls of Carlito's Cafe during my stay there.]] I wonder if this wholesome young white guys (I peeked, there is a hole at the top of my wall adjacent to the Crack Shack where an AC unit used to live) paramour knows he is in a back alley in Mexico smoking crack next to a strip ...

"She lives like tomorrow isn't coming and yesterday never happened." - Crystal Woods, Write Like No One Is Reading + + + Friday, Day One: Nuevo Senorial "Around the outside of the room other beautiful women wearing little or nothing at all flitted between the infatuated, intoxicated men, sometimes luring them away for a private dance. The men would follow obediently, weighed down by lust and credit cards."  - R.D. Ronald, The Zombie Room [[They have a sign on the front of the building, but I suspect this is how most random clients discover what waits beyond the privacy curtains at the end of the entrance hallway.]] There are a lot of strange places I expected to find myself in my life. Sitting in the corner of a darkened Mexican strip club in a dusty border town wasn't one of them. 2:30 in the afternoon, beer in one hand, pen in the other, making observations about the club and its clientele for my weird little travelogue. Somet...

New material coming shortly. Between the spotty internet down here and several other writing projects taking up my time I have not had a chance to finish the upcoming post. It will appear shortly. In a day or two. Expect weirdness, strippers, and general shenanigans from south of the border courtesy of your friend and humble narrator, me. Until then; courage. + + + This post and its original content copyright James Radcliff, and has been brought to you by Mexico, tequila, and generally poor decision making. If you would like to donate to support this bizarre little travelogue, feel free to do so via Patreon or PayPal. As always, this strange and debaucherous adventure has been brought to your screen by viewers like you. Thank you. https://www.patreon.com/jamesradcliff paypal.me/jamesradcliff  https://www.instagram.com/dispatches_from_the_field/