memories of the indo-mexican

Once, a long time ago I met this boy. He was beautiful in my eyes. At one point I was fascinated with him. I wanted to believe that he had travelled all the way to San Francisco, on a simple whim to meet me. I wanted to believe that for once, someone had done that thing I am all-too-prone to do when I like someone. Alas he had a boyfriend. I did my best to serve as a guide to San Francisco for them when I met them. To be honest, I don’t know much about San Francisco. I know its history and I know my way around. I know a few restaurants, here and there, where they serve food that I enjoy but cannot afford. I have memories in San Francisco. For example, of celebrating new years with Wileen (sweet), Paul and Gianni. It was horrible. But I was with Wileen. She’s magical. I was also with Paul and Gianni and I have known them since elementary school. I have never liked new years … it’s always a bit daft I find celebrating some arbitrary thing!

I hand long hair then, when I met him. He took that photo that evokes the life I have lead or desire to live:

A life where one walks down a path, the direction does not matter. The wind blows gently and forms part of those sounds that quietly fixate themselves into that thing which becomes the soundtrack of life. It is gloomy and a bit cold, but one never takes notice of this for one is much too lost in contemplating a thing or a person. I have always been a person that likes to dedicate his energies into a single thing. I fidget and constantly must be doing something, but this an all-together different story.

But, returning to the story, for it is simply the task I proffer myself to complete and it does seem I am unable, ever, to finish a task I set to myself! So we went to that town north of San Francisco and from this sun-kissed and quaint little bit of Norcal, we could witness the invasion of San Francisco by that all-too-familiar fog. The city was lost in it, engulfed and drowned. He was upset … what a dreary place! But for me, it was magnificent to watch the city lost in fog … I love fog. In the ugliness he believed to exist in relation to San Francisco, I saw beauty and magic.

After spending time with him – later on he would signal my distance – I said goodbye. I guess he became contemptuous of me after all here was an elitist boy who vituperated against affirmative action, who was offended by the mere word religion, who refused to drink Starbucks and had never set foot in one prior to meeting. I simply said what was on my mind and offended him with my socialist views. And perhaps it was this attitude, this me that says many a thing and would toss all this aside for the sake of one thing I desire wholeheartedly (what is it exactly?). I have always said I believe in humanity and that this is what underlies everyone, everything else is superfluous labeling! “But without our labels we are naked!” you say. Yes how absurd of me! We came into this world covered in label did we not? Oh I shouldn’t have used that, i.e., naked, for I immediately imagine Shane.

Alas … this boy … who disliked me for the fact that I wrote like an Argentine in Spanish. This reminds me, that I should rebuild my weblog in Spanish or otherwise I will forget to write in Spanish. So to-day we spoke again. The last time we had spoken was over the phone when I lived in that place I don’t wish to recall anymore, when I “shared my humanity” as he calls my nervous breakdown. Yes … many people seem to be shocked when they realize that I too have emotions, that the façade of the philosophers comes off and I cry like the rest. I too grow hungry, I too do those mundane things that all human beings do and I too suffer, though I suspect a bit too intensely. It’s the Christian in me (remind me to footnote this continuous reference in my writings).


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