Alone with Patron at 130am

I was 16 years old when i first shot back tequila. At 20 yrs old i took about i dont know how many shots to my head in about a half hour. I was a mess, wanting to fight everyone in the room. I got up from my seat and spidey hands gripping the walls for support, I finally made it to the bathroom. I swore up and down i would never touch tequila in my life. I uprooted the insides of my stomach and watch my insides splash into the white bowl. The stench of liquor-soaked-digested-pizza startled me for a minute before i passed out in the corridor. I woke up the next day with towel draped overy my body hating life and all the color and sounds it had to offer.

I didnt touch tequila for 5 years. Sometimes the smell of cut lime or salt would rush the smell of rotten pizza drenched in tequila straight up my nose. Even the sight of that golden liquid would make me stomach reach my tonsals for a dap. The shit repulsed me. On my 24 birthday a friend of mine gave me a bottle of Patron Silver. I accepted the gift and did not mention a word of my disgust and horrible history with the agave extract. I merely thanked them, hugged each one of them while cursing them for my gift in my head, cuz i knew that no matter what, later that night i would be taking shots of that horrible shit. I just banked on the fact that i would make myself drunk off other liquor before any toasts got underway. My plan worked. For the next 45 minutes i slammed all drinks poured for me making sure Mr. Patron made now showing.

It would be a year before i opened that gift up for a drink. It sat on my window mantle like a sentinel, the only alcohol i had in my room. After hearing stories about how firme Patron was i decided to take a shot with Angeles and my roommate Luis R. They had no idea what a big deal it was to put that shit down my system. I made no fuss. I licked the space between the index finger and thumb, sprinkeled salt, poured my shot...salud! and down it went, smooth.

And so here today at 130am i lick the space between index and thumb, sprinkle some salt, cut a lime in a wedge, pour my shot, make my salud to you, whomever you are, whoever finds their way here univited reading my bullshit rants and ideas. I thank you and i love you...salud


Poem for Fivel on his 25th birthday April 2006

I remind myself of the 1st time
we shot back
jose cuervo gold
followed it up by
who knows how many beers and
bottles of champagne
mixed with
kool aid

our sixteen yr old stomachs didn’t
know no better
and we didn’t care
all we knew
lupus
was eating away
your mom
knarled knuckles atop
one another
sucking dry her lungs
my nina
rosie

and so we sped out the hospital for your pad
turned up chente and all
the woe music available
and drank
and drank
until our bodies crumpled
to the floor
unitl our sixteen yr old machismo
gave into tears
mixed with snotty mocos and
throw up
wailing for hope

Nirvana w/rocky road ice-crean...on a Thursday Night

I turned 26 about 2weeks ago, but it wasnt until tonight, about 30minutes ago that i really began to feel like I was old. I sit here writing this post listening to Nirvana's "woe is me" MTV unplugged CD wading my tongue in a pool of ice-cream wishing I was out about the town swimming in a gin and tonic with a freshly squeezed lime floating atop the ice. Yup folks i am home chillin with a laptop on my lap with Kurt Cobain and Nirvana eating ice cream, knowing full well i am lactose intolerant. I think I might be a masochist, and i come to that conclusion not because Nirvana is making me feel sad for myself and i keep listening but because i keep slipping spoon fulls of ice-cream down into my lactose intolerant stomach and i love it. Well until about 45minutes, when my lack of an enzyme well cause a rolling thunder storm in my stomach. Yeah...

So here is my first blog post, a random rant about my life at 26 on a thursday night in Hollywood CA.