day of the dead

Wake up five to midnight. Four shots of hard liquor. Zero hour of the Day of the Dead. Draw some stuff. Art is beautiful. Fall asleep again. Wake up at seven. Buy some water and bread and a load of ham. Eat pure ham for most of the day. No dead I want to visit. My respects for the goners, but I wish I was in Mexico. Then again, a free-pass to a party here in Rio would be nice, too. No news yet in the bank. Maybe tomorrow. Eat some rice and french fries. Fall asleep again. Watch the Brazilian Grand Prix starting. Fall asleep again. Wake up to see Hamilton win the championship at the very last curve. Out to buy some pink disposable razors. Take a shower. Read old magazines. Go to Saraiva Bookstore. Read two short stories by B. Traven. Go back home. Phone calls to the living. Four shots of hard liquor. Jerk off and fall asleep. Whoever I was fucking in my mind, that was beautiful.