cont’d from Club Mekano, Zona Rosa, El D.F. After we dressed there was an awkward moment where we sat on the bed beside each other in silence. I didn’t know what to say and I could tell Camila was waiting for something more than a goodbye kiss. So I told her I was going to [...]
cont’d from Mi Calculador I awoke sometime that afternoon completely ravenous. It probably wasn’t the most sanitary of choices, but the street vendors had some of the best food around. Who knew where the meat came from? Who cared? I’d had the runs from the moment I’d got here, but I was eating like a king. [...]
That’s what she’d call me. I didn’t know what the hell she meant by it. Calculador meant calculator. “Que?” I’d say and she’d just giggle her cute little girl giggle and peck my cheek. I’d met Camila in a club in the Zona Rosa. From the airport you had two practical means of departure into [...]
[author's note: This was my first real attempt at writing fiction. There's nothing genius about it, but it was fun for me to put down on paper. I was on a Bukowski kick at the time, so a lot of my influence was from him.] I’m twenty-five. I wash dishes at a Greek restaurant for [...]
I was en route back to the U.S. from a month long stay in Mexico City, where I’d been fucking a sixteen year-old Mexican girl named Camila. She’d only turned sixteen weeks before, in July. I was twenty-eight. Camila had been named the Pepsi Mujer in a local beauty contest sponsored by none other than [...]
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