My girlfriend is asleep right now and I’m wearing headphones and typing this stupid shit around 11:04 pm.
She has been sleeping for over an hour, so I’m pretty sure she’s fast asleep. Or at least I hope. She begged me to go to bed with her though I wasn’t at all tired. So I watched Family Guy while she fell asleep next to me. I told her after she fell asleep I had to do some work.
And now I’m up, drinking coffee with headphones on to not wake her. With the excuse that I was going to work.
I’m 40% done with the transcript. The annoying part of writing the article is almost done. I’m getting great ideas. It should be done by the end of this week or sometime around there. Then I’ll concentrate on the rest of stuff I want to do.
But right after I got up from watching Family Guy, I heard commotion on the street. A lady yelling and throwing shit.
(By the way, Youtube has been streaming new episodes for free… it’s weird.)
It was that crazy meth head that sometimes wanders by my apartment, knocking on car windows, screaming for some change. She’s usually here once a week or so in the morning hours. I’ve seen the terrified faces of drivers when she’s approaching a car. She looks really messed up.
She was dancing on the street pole in a stripper like fashion, kicking garbage around, and talking to herself. A car approached the red light, and another. She rushed to one and got quickly rejected and then went to the next one and started knocking on the driver’s window. Driver inched forward. She followed and kept knocking on the window and started screaming. There wasn’t much traffic. Both cars ran the red light.
She went to sit by the street pole with all the garbage (garbage trucks come around at 11:00 pm every night in downtown Tijuana). She just sat there. Holding her head. Screaming to herself.
People went by. Cars went by. It’s like a puppy that got ran over. You don’t want to look because it makes you sad. But you look. And this is a person. She has a family… maybe. She looks like she’s 75 but probably around 35 and it’s most likely all meth-related.
A cop truck approached. She did a strange maneuver. She started dancing on the street pole again like a stripper. The cop did nothing. I could only hear a muffled radio. I don’t think the cops were going to do anything. Crazy meth and other drugs and a lot of shitty alcohol is the norm of people in downtown Tijuana. Or so it seems now. She did a couple of spins on the pole, seemingly flirting with the cop. Then she walked away in a rush… a couple of steps and she started running.
The cop did nothing.
And after a while, he turned left.
I wonder what will happen with her tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after.
She suddenly just appears. And scares people.
And oh yes! I took pictures like a creep.
Reminiscence of when I shot Lindsay Lohan in Hawaii. Except I don’t have a 500mm lens, I have the 80mm. And it’s super dark. And this is not Lindsay Lohan. This is just some strange meth woman with probably a weird or probably very shitty tale to tell.
I don’t think you can see anything in the pictures. I’m not going to transfer them now. I need another cup of coffee and finish the transcript. Probably the worst part of the transcript part is that I don’t get to listen to music… sigh.
Writing this snippet in the morning. Here is the best pic:
It’s not very good. It was really dark.
I got hungry. My girlfriend made some amazing food. All of that I’ll write tomorrow. Save draft.
Update to this draft. I was wrong with the 40% done. The first interview was way short. The second interview is way longer. I’m sort of 40% done with that now… so in total, I’m about halfway done?
I switched coffee to alcohol because I should finish this and go to bed. I’m not sleepy at all. Just hungry.
My neighbor asked the neighbors in a Facebook message for a llave de perico. I have no idea what the fuck that was and had to google it and there is one in the house. I have no idea what is called in English so I’m asking Google for help, but instead, it tells me it’s called “Chave Inglesa” in Portugues.
Holy fuck! It’s just called a wrench. An adjustable wrench. That lets you know how much of a handyman I fucking am.
Yep. My neighbor borrowed a wrench around midnight. Is not even my wrench. It’s my roommate’s!
When I was making the mixed drink I’m drinking, I saw the crazy lady on the same corner again, sitting by the trash. I have no idea when she got back.
I watched her for a minute… and again she got up and started walking funny, then faster, then running. Nothing triggered it this time. She just decided it was time to go I guess….
Alright. Back to transcribing. Save draft 12:42 am.
Quick update. Neighbor gave the wrench back already. He had to adjust the mount on his tv. Save draft, 12:45 am.
Back to transcribing. I miss the music the most.
Good morning word vomit!
I couldn’t sleep last night. I got tired of transcribing at some point that I just wrote “IT (BROTHERS BLAH HALF INTERVIEW).” So I know where to begin today.
Well, the morning began with a bunch of emails like always.
I got hungry in bed, and couldn’t sleep. There was a bag of pistachios in the kitchen that I bought a while ago but never ate. That was my target. I got back to bed and then decided, the living room should be better. Babe has to sleep.
I went to bed at around 4:30 am. That’s when she wakes up.
Our schedules are fucky still. And they might get more fucky. Oh well.
I was working when she got off work. She came home with a bag of groceries from the Asian store. There was no gas for cooking at home (remember? I said that like a week ago I think…). Except, I’m an idiot. There is still gas, the valve wasn’t opened.
She was excited to cook. I helped her with the rice and got some overpriced shrimp and octopus from the shrimp cocktail place downstairs. She did the rest.
Next time, we are buying the seafood ourselves. At least the guy helped me with some tips in where he buys the shrimp and octopus.
She thought I had a bamboo sushi mat, but I didn’t and she really wanted one. We went to the store while the rice cooled off and couldn’t find one. Then she started shopping for make-up and other shit. I got hungry and I got cranky. I came back home by myself and made myself a bowl of everything she prepared instead of a nicely prepared sushi.
A few minutes later she came home and showed me her skills.
Holy fuck.
It was so good.
First thing I thought was, my girlfriend needs to open her own restaurant. She would make so much more money cooking than on her current job. She loves her current job though.
Pictures. I had to take pictures. With both my iPhone and DSLR.
Posting the full resolution DSLR pics.
Temaki roll!
Another angle.
With my pictures and my SEO “experience” and what not… I could have a website, Facebook, Instagram, and other social media
Speaking of pictures… my studio lights, backdrop, new battery for my Canon, and other camera related shit arrived at Brozo’s house! Woo! I should pick that up soon.
Back to the Temaki rolls.
Look at how delicious that looks.
With studio lights and better presentation we can make a glorified food porn Instagram, Facebook, and other pages before even deciding on location and menu and what not.
Without a sushi pad, she still can make maki sushi.
Shit is good yo. Real good. And it could still be better. She’s good at it because she worked in a sushi restaurant in Brazil for 2 years.
Is there a market for sushi in Tijuana that’s not filled with weird shit and covered in different sauces?! Maybe!
Extra pics.
Bisho looking kitty beauty.
So yep. I started fantasizing of opening a sushi place. And doing the pictures, marketing, SEO, and all that media stuff. The only thing I have no imagination for… is a name.
Ichi Ban was the name of the first sushi place I went when I was a small lad in Querétaro. I have no real memory of the food, but I remember I used to love it.
Woo!
Just got a nice email from the editor. The next cover photo and inside spread is looking great! I can’t wait to see it.
And I should also really get to writing my own cover! Or feature. Or … well… let’s see what the editor thinks. I didn’t even pitch it. I just have confidence in myself that it will be good. Goddamn, the risk.
PRETTY PICTURES. That’s what I want to do more and more. Money will probably be better spent in photography gear than a car for a while so I can get more and more pics and more and more and more gigs. Though a car would also help greatly with getting gigs…
Alright. Coffee. Push-ups. Perhaps shower. Most likely shower. Breakfast. Finish the transcript. Start writing the story. Which it’s somewhat built inside my head. It will be finished by the end of this week.
Oh yeah. Pay request. Only pictures because I didn’t write dick.
Matingas 