Week 17, 0 Days: Busy with Work, Birthday, Viejito Fest, Projects, Photos, Yacht Life, And All That Jazz

Week 17, 0 Days.

I haven’t been able to sit on my desk in more than a week. This is the first time I sit down without a mountain of things to finish…

And I still have a lot to finish.

So I can’t really be wasting my time with my blog. But I need it. My little blog therapy. Cuz a lot has been happening. Mostly good. If not all good…

$140 cash sit in front of me. $60 more are in my wallet. And my bank account looks pretty again. Nothing like other people’s account with real jobs or the salespeople. I hung out with a sales guy yesterday to finalize a project I’ve been working on. It’s tough to sell American prices in Baja, but we somehow managed and I think it will be fine and dandy.

Speaking of which… I still have to speak to Dandy’s a bit more.

That project will run from June to December. And I can relax a bit after that. And then do it all over again. Salespeople. I’m not a good salesman. I just know it’s good for the magazine. It’s good for the city. It’s good for me.

So much happened since my last blog.

Most importantly. I worked a lot. And that translates to $$$. But having more $$$ also translates into spending more $$$. My student loans are on my ass. Despite already paying them. They bother me. I’m already paying. Just stop.

I should go back to not paying them… Cuz it is crippling debt. The more $$$ the more you spend the more stress.


I just created a photography invoice for my services.

German TV bought a very old picture of mine that they found in this blog. They could have stolen it and just used it. But they emailed me a few days ago to send them an invoice. And my other job also asked me to get nicer invoices. So I created an invoice for my services.

Aww, I just tried to look up the episode to see the picture I took on German TV… but got the “this content is not available in your country.”


It was my birthday.

I’ve come to many birthday conclusions. And tried to learn to enjoy them.


It was my first birthday without her. That part sucked. I miss her chiles rellenos in that mild tomato sauce with onions on top. Her chile rellenos were perfection. That was the only good part of my birthday. Mom would cook me my favorite meal. And one of my favorites was her chile rellenos. Not other chile rellenos in restaurants or from tacos varios or anything. Hers. I don’t know how she cooked them. I miss her cooking.

Before that, she would make me raviolis or lasagna. Those were also my favorite foods that she cooked.

My taste and love for food has developed. I remember eating mom’s food as a grown up and thinking “shit, she uses a lot of butter, no wonder it’s good.” Mom was a great cook. Probably the reason I love food so much.


Birthday things. Hey. Everyone is really nice like always. A lot of people post HBD on Facebook like always. Some are silly. Some are basic. Olaes simply wrote: “Feliz.” I like that. Dara (who is a dude I briefly met in TJ) posted a picture of a dog with booze, gun, bong, HBD hat, and tons of cash. That was a silly post. That was my favorite post. From a dude a briefly met who had two awesome dogs.

I rarely or ever write on someone’s FB wall about birthday. I appreciate it a lot. I just don’t really do it.

I don’t really like FB. That platform is dying the slow death of MySpace.

I Instagram a lot. Stupid social media.

Stupid fucking social media was my job.

That’s why I haven’t been able to be on my desk. Spent a lot of time working controlling the social media of what I call “Viejito Fest.”

Family fun at Gator by the Bay!

Post picture. Post captions. Post mini gallery. Hashtag hashtag hashtag. Rinse. Repeat.

It was a lot of work. And everything went right. Nightmare weekend wasn’t that horrible as I thought.

Hiring Ryan as a second photographer was complete gold.

I paid him what I promised before he even started working. First set he delivered was mostly crap because we didn’t really need verticals (and he shot a lot). Told him this. Told him what type of pics we were looking for. And he DESTROYED it!

A great fucking shooter. He was killing me!

I also learned a new photography flash trick from him that I need to try out. And for that, I need new flashes, the off-camera flash, and some little softboxes.

It’s pretty much the long exposure with light trails that I like to do… but BETTER!

I know it can be better.

Ryan is a hella good shooter. And I am so happy I hired him. Not only did he keep working hard after already paying him… HE GOT US A YACHT!

Thursday I worked solo. It went great. Got awesome pictures. Got the ball rolling on social media platforms. Interacted with the client. Went back to Tijuana to rest and cross the border again the next day.

Friday was heavier. But it was still great. Ryan got to learn what the festival was. We shot a lot. We got great material.

I went back to San Ysidro to spend the night because crossing the border that late to cross it back again in the morning would be idiotic.

I would rather spend the night in my car than suffer the border like that.

Saturday was the heaviest of the days. Working more than 12 hours from morning until 10 a.m. almost until midnight. With a break during dinner time to figure out the yacht (and move my car).

Turns out Ryan has a friend who is a yacht broker who lived nearby. He simply asked him about crashing in his place or on his yacht.

Turns out that friend has an even bigger yacht that Ryan knew. Turns out he Airbnbs that yacht. Turns out it was empty until Thursday.

He offered the yacht for free just pay the $80 cleaning fee.

Motherfucking 50 foot yacht with three bedrooms and 2 bathrooms.

We spend three nights there. Saturday and Sunday after work (and I was still editing and posting from the yacht). And the extra Monday were we basically just spent it sleeping on the boat.

We on a boat.


I kept singing that. I still sing it.

And I fantasize about boat living. Traveling in my mobile apartment at sea. Fishing. Drinking. Argggg. The sea life. Would be a fun way to live old age drifting into the sea. If I ever write a best selling book, I’ll get a fucking yacht.

Or an RV.

Those options sound good. Mobile apartments. Nomad life.

And one house/territory in Baja where home is.

Where I had planned to buy a place for my mom.

Like if it will ever happen. I’m still a broke fucker with tons of student loan debt and many other issues like my car is not really properly registered because they claim I had no proof of insurance.

Oh. And the car is also breaking down.

And I fly to Mexico City in less than a week.

Fix the mail.

Fix my car.

Fix the paperwork with my car.

Pay bills.

Pay bills.

Pay bills forever.

Breathing cost money in 2020.

So yeah… Student loans. I was on a yacht. Which makes you go like “you fucker, you should pay then.” But it’s not like that. I DIDN’T PAY ANYTHING. I could never afford to even spend a night on a yacht. I was just a lucky fucker who hired the right person to do an excellent job and on top of that got a fucking yacht to spend the night at.

Oh. The most important thing is silly.

The yacht was steps away from the festival. That’s why that was so important. It wasn’t only a motherfucking yacht, it was walking distance. I didn’t have to drive back to San Ysidro. I just walked to the yacht.

It wasn’t all happiness.

I was worried because Sunday was Mother’s Day in America (Friday in Mexico). Everyone posting about their moms made me sad. But I also notice how many people post about their moms who have died.

All moms die.

It’s the saddest part of existence. It’s not my own death. It was my mom’s.

It’s probably not the same to everyone. But that was it for me.

I didn’t breakdown on Friday.


That was different.

I heard Happy Mother’s Day 22 times in a few minutes while walking by the fest. I took my mom to the festival last year. It’s my profile picture on FB. It was the last time we got drunk together and had a great time.

Before making it to where the Reader lounge is. Where my mom finished a bottle of wine and then some…

I broke down. Couldn’t help it. I just started crying relentlessly. At least I had my shades on. But there was no hiding it. I couldn’t take pictures… I just went back to my trailer where the main person of the festival also stayed…

And I cried my balls out. Crying is a lot of mucus. Where does all that mucus come from?

She asked if I was getting a cold.

I told her the reason I was crying.

She started crying as well.

And put her shades on.

I felt bad for sharing my sadness. But I got over it and went out again and took a million pictures.

So many pictures.

So much to edit.

I ended up delivering 404 pictures in total. Out of 5,000+

The hard drive of the MacBook Air exploded. Not literally. It just ran out of space. Same with this blog. Running out of space. And I need to post one single picture for this to end.

That’s the yacht. And that’s Ryan sitting next to it.

It came with the kayak and the paddleboard. But we weren’t ready to stay on a yacht. No boardshorts. We should have… but we had work. And on Monday all we did was sleep.

I need breakfast. And take my car to the mechanic. And I still have a bunch of Saturday work.

Work is almost over.

Vacation is almost here.

And more about my birthday stupid shit.

People are really nice. And they want to celebrate. Buy me beers and what not. But none of the people know each other or are related. And I don’t want to see everyone. I just want to chill…

After a couple of work meetings. I scheduled worked meetings on my birthday by accident. Seriously forgot what day it was and I was like “yeah, we will see each other on Thursday.” Thursday came… and oh well. Work time.

The day before that I did so much fucking work too…

That’s what’s been going on.

Work work work work work.

And drink drink drink drink (beer for the most part).

That’s what I did for my birthday. Work, and drink. And then I went bowling. Started with a turkey. It felt great. I felt a great game coming. But I only bowled 144. My second game was hideous, only 89. The third game I recovered a bit to 124.

My legs hurt. But I want to go bowling again right now.

After that, I dropped my car home so I can continue drinking and not worry about the car. I bought edibles in San Diego that weren’t planned for my birthday, but the day after Gator by the Bay. I had three bites of “Overdose” 500 mg fudge. So I had around 150+ mgs and went out to Tropics.

What a bad idea that was.

Well… in a way. I love and hate getting really dumb high on edibles.

That was a bit too much. Cuz I freaked the fuck out.

But she was there. And that’s why I went to Tropics. Because from all the offerings to do for my birthday, I just wanted to hang out with ColomDiana.

And she helped me through the bad trip.

And listened to all the stupid shit I spew on about.

On birthday nonsense.

My phone vibrated.

And vibrated.

And vibrated.

I turned it off.

And it felt like some weight was removed from my being.

I realized that’s all it takes. Just turn the goddamn thing off.

Minutes later I wanted to look something up. Remember that shit is off. Left it off.

Just for a few hours… because then I needed to turn it on to call an Uber. Turned it on. Million of messages. Called the Uber. Went back home. Didn’t look at my phone again.

Woke up on Friday. That’s yesterday… Finally edited the 620+ photos from four different photo shoots. Tons of emails. Then ran out of the border to meet the sales agent to help me finalize my project. We had a merry time in TJ whilst doing business and talking to business owners of the vision of my project and the cost.

It’s going.

It’s going.

It’s almost done.

Tijuana Jazz Club just sent me a message. What a nifty little bar with a speakeasy NYC feel to it that is. I fucking loved it. And this is coming from someone who has disliked the jazz scene in Tijuana for a long time.

Jazz has been misconstrued to just “jams.”


Not this place.

Walking in, the guitarist or the bassist was soloing. I can’t remember. But I just knew I recognized the tune (despite being in mid-solo).

A love supreme.

A love supreme.


It’s nice. It’s dark. It’s jazzy. It’s elegant. They have good drinks. They seriously knocked it out of the park.

I have to go later and talk about business again.

And fix my fucking car.

And my mail.

And fucking breakfast.

Being busy. No time for feelings. But I still have all sorts of feels about all sorts of shit and life and what not.



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