š²š½ Malafama ā¢ Temple Mejor ā¢ La Faena - 04.12.2025
Aloneness and loneliness are very different things. My comforts in aloneness are profoundā¦ and I find much joy and quality life in it. Loneliness is a state of mindā¦ and a form of depression and anxiety. And the loneliest I have ever been was the year I spent next to another personā¦ in 2025ā¦ this Tolucana.
āReciting poems in the moonlight, riding a painted boat...
Every place the wind carries me is home.ā
--Yu Xuanji (AD 843-868)
Rhythms
Riding a painted boat on new rhythms. The grooves of the old frequencies remain present as a residual echo. And hang your arm over the edge of the boatā¦ and drag your fingertips through the conventional wake of past rhythmsā¦
The wind has carried me to San Miguel Chapultepec, CDMXā¦ where Iām in apartment limbo. Waiting for my Orizaba 210 sublet to open back up. And in the presentā¦ lifeā¦ and everyday routine. And from that, a moment opened up that Iā¦ that weā¦ could reconnect.
GildaMonster is my PunkRock intellectual companion from Toluca. She often seems bored in my companyā¦ and Iām quite sure she is bored of my frequent absenceā¦ but there she isā¦ requesting I pick her up at the train station in Santa Fe on a hazy Friday afternoon.
I have to wade through a collection of public transportation from EscandĆ³n to get to the SF station at the edge of the city. Itās an hour and half of travel on foot and it likely takes me more time than it does her to travel down from Toluca. But she recently, and reluctantly, sold her carā¦ and despite being a chingĆ³na (bad-ass) from the barrio, she has anxieties about transportation, and stairs, and the CableBus, and crossing the streetā¦ and so onā¦ And until she gets her new car, which she proclaims to be soonā¦ I will gladly scoop her up wherever she likes.
I first met her several months ago in a coffee shop in CoyoacĆ”n. She was reading a book, had on a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, tattoos, a lip piercing, and one side of her head was shavedā¦ tomboy-ish looks, tomboy-ish mannerisms, and a fistful of brash punk rock attitude.
I had arrived at the train station just as she was walking off the platformā¦ her hair is now long, auburn colored, sheās wearing makeupā¦ and has a hint of a smile when she sees meā¦ and all adds to a growing list of curiosities I have about this person.
There were affectionate greetings and pleasantries, and I make some comment on how fast her hair grows. And she reminds me how long Iāve been away. And I suppose in some version of an abstract language it means, āIām glad to see youā¦ā
As we were looking for things to do in the eveningā¦ she asked me if I could play pool. Itās been a long timeā¦ and I donāt claim to knowā¦ but I canā¦ There was a choice of two placesā¦ a local joint in Tacubaya (which is my gritty Metro stop) or the gentrified Malafama in La Condesa. I picked the first because she told me the people may see me as exotic and we could get away with hanging with the spicy locals. And she picked the later becauseā¦ well, because everybody hates gentrificationā¦ but not enough to not hang out in a gentrified club. Soā¦ Malafama it will be.
Malafama is a popular place so there was a 2 hour wait for a pool tableā¦ so we satā¦ and sipped chelas, snacked, and played UNO.
Apparently Gilda had been keeping a tally of UNO wins in the back of her mind and said, āwe are tiedā¦ this is for the winner!!!ā She stumbles with English at timesā¦ but I get the gist.
And before we could finish our championship matchā¦ āHeel-da!!! Your pool is ready!ā
She was at the table before I even stepped off my barstool. Brushing the felt, racking balls, picking out a stick. She was excited and I believeā¦ excited to crush the only gringo in the place with her pool skills.
This was one of the few scenarios that Iāve seen her animated. She circled the table, confidently grasping the stick, taking absurd angled shots in which I didnāt even understand the physics. When sheād sink a ball, sheād grin towards me, pump her arms, and blast, ābaaaamm!! Iām from the barrio!!!ā
It made me happy to see her in this light. Boisterous, confident, in her element, having fun, and showing a side I donāt see muchā¦
She would instruct me on where, and how to shoot. Showing me the angle. Licking her finger and putting a spot on the bumperā¦ āhere!! And bank thereā¦ and then thereā I missed every shot. I know enough of the physics of the game that such shots werenāt even possibleā¦ or possible in my mind of conventional pool play.
Then came a momentā¦ and probably for the sake of rational continuityā¦ that I said, āIām just going to do what I know and play my way.ā
She nodded with light disappointmentā¦ and then she gleamed, āmake this shot if you want to impress a woman!!!ā
As I reflectā¦ Iām still not sure if she said that because she desired to be impressedā¦ or she was just politely cheering me on for a perceived lack of barrio pool room skills. Butā¦ her comment had triggered something primalā¦ and I felt the weight of some version of seriousness rest on my shoulders.
The problem, or a resurfacing old rhythm, or background storyā¦ is this; In a past lifeā¦ I had spent one thousand and one hours at the Skylark Lounge in Denver, the old location and new, in the back of the bar, with my eyes at half-mast, holding myself up with a pool stickā¦ playing the game of pool.
Iāve never claimed to āknow how,ā or be goodā¦ but with the right amount of a beer buzz to block out the periphery, a little cosmic tailwind, and some bursts of luckā¦ Iāve sank a few eight-balls in my day.
Soā¦ this dayā¦ this nightā¦ in a Mexico City clubā¦ I have some motivation to impress my opponent, the correct amount of chelas in me, underdog karmaā¦ and itās not my first pool rodeo. And I begin.
I ran the tableā¦ in my wayā¦ how I know bestā¦ and gently sank the eight ball in the far corner pocket. I turn towards her, āare you impressed?!?ā
She had a grumpy face, āno! I hate you now!!!ā
And I thanked the Nordic gods for thatā¦ becauseā¦ for the previous hour sheād been glaring at me with a dimpled smile and it was burning past my optic nerves and bouncing off the back of my skull, hitting all kinds of receptors in my braināthus feeling a cocktail of suppressed emotional molecules bubbling up from the bottom of my feet and about to boil over the top of my boots. And who has time for that?
She then stomped her foot and in broken English, āyouāre the only guyā¦ thatā¦ (something)ā¦ my hechizoā¦ my spellā¦ my, myā¦ it didnāt work.ā
āWha?!? You put a curse on me?!?ā
āYessss , un hechizo! it didnāt work!!!ā
I do believe the hechizĆ³ workedā¦ it just didnāt impact my pool game. I then wiped the stars, or hearts, or care-bears, or whatever from my eyesā¦ and wrangled my bubbling emotional moleculesā¦ all the residual of her enchanting-magic spellā¦ and we proceeded into the night with more games.
The next day we were downtown in the zocaloā¦ they have ālimpiaā (cleansing) ceremonies done by Mixica people in traditional dress. Gilda explained this and that about itā¦ and asked if I want a ālimpia.ā
I mentioned, āyou put a curse on me last night, didnāt you?ā
And in a sad faced reply, āyou want to remove my hechizĆ³?!?ā
Thereās only one answer to that, ānever!ā
The reality is, in my current systems, new rhythms, against conventionā¦ I donāt want to remove, or cleanse my curses, or spells, or charms, or bad spirits, or demonsā¦ I want them to ride with me in the graffiti painted boat. Embrace them, get to know them, befriend themā¦ and hold them with one hand while riding the waves of this new rhythm and with the other hand, resting my fingertips on the wake of the old.
We have this necessity to define, to have answers, to be healed. I want this relationship with life to be open-ended, unresolved, undefined, ever changing, and be forever curiousā¦ ask the questionsā¦ but live beyond the answers. And the wind will carry you home.
ā¢
#CDMXlife š²š½
#poolsharkpool
ā¢ā¢ā¢ postscript rant ā¢ā¢ā¢
Any feelings I was developing for this woman quickly dissipated away during a visit to La Faena. A traditional downtown Cantina. Meeting Gildaās school colleagues for āoneā beer turned into her having her back to me for 4 hours, crawling all over one of the dudes, and drooling over conversations of drug use, and only occasionally turning around to say, āyou look boredā¦ā
Iām quite fine if someone doesnāt want my companyā¦ and especially if they prefer to be with someone elseā¦ but I have no interest in sticking around for any length of time to be disrespected. I have many other places to be, and other people to be with that do prefer my company. And I definitely have no problem walking out on rude peopleā¦ Iāve done it before, with my head held highā¦ but this instant, I was way too polite when removing myselfā¦ instead of walking out when they left me at the table alone to pay the check while they went outside to smoke, like I wanted, I patiently waited until what was supposed to be the last drink, paid the balance of the bill, and communicated that I was leavingā¦ and that she should stay. I was confused (and mad) why she wanted [us] to leave togetherā¦ and I was ultimately disappointed in myself for allowing that.
While I grudgingly waited for an Uber outside the cantina, with her next to meā¦ she stated, āIām a tricky girl.ā (As if that makes it ok to be rude)
There were several things she had stated to me previously about her āconditionā. And all added up to her having some version of a āpersonality disorderā (Iāve seen it first hand before). And this handful of self-admitted red flagsā¦ showed up as realityā¦ for my eyes to see. Nowā¦ my intuition is screaming at me.
It was the third instance of unacceptable rude behavior from herā¦ and as we were riding in the carā¦ and for the rest of the weekendā¦ I wished she would just go away.
I navigate life with humor and humilityā¦ and I cant find anything humorous about this moment. She managed to smooth things out in a way that was soothing to the nervous systemā¦ and I believed her to be a person of self-rewarding impulses (typical of a sociopath)ā¦ and not necessarily bad or evilā¦ but she navigates without empathyā¦ so she doesnāt care how she impacts others feelingsā¦ only how her behavior impacts others relating to fulfilling her own needs.
For example, she doesnāt see her behavior in this instance to be disrespectfulā¦ only that the results will have her being abandoned at the end of the nightā¦ soā¦ she adjustsā¦ or hidesā¦ those impulses. Itās manipulationā¦ not consideration. Itās a dangerous combination if youāre expecting loyalty, monogamy, transparency, honesty, respect, emotional support, etcā¦ within a partnership.
Despite seeing these attributes at this time and having no interest in continuingā¦ we eventually entered into a committed (her offer) relationship that lasted 6-7 monthsā¦ and continued, and endedā¦ as the script would expect when associating with a sociopath.
At the time, I believe, I continued to spend time with her, because she was low maintenance, educated, I had my own checkered pastā¦ and most of allā¦ because I was aware of her conditionā¦ so I could set boundaries for myselfā¦ and for usā¦ and not get in too deep.
The problem isā¦ that ātheyā (narcissists, sociopaths, people with personality disorders) can suck you inā¦ and play youā¦ and youāll never see it coming (even when you think you see it coming) and then destroy your self-confidence, and mental and emotional healthā¦ until youāre a co-dependent mess. And when she had no more use, and was exposed to her deceptionsā¦ and ācondition,ā (as expected) she dropped awayā¦ disappeared without one more word or communication.
A text book sociopath has issues with abandonmentā¦ so they quickly attach themselves to someone else (to spite you and their own insatiable needs for attention). Poor guyā¦ or girlā¦ but they will harbor those abandonment issuesā¦ and the only way they will erase you from their mindā¦ is when they have been exposed and can no longer hide their bullshitā¦ and only relish in what material things (gifts, money, clothes, trips) they received from you. Itās not sentimentalā¦ itās material gains, like trophiesā¦ like a serial killer would doš¬. And I believe this to be the case in this experience. Itās how many gifts she received and stole. I should consider myself lucky to be freeā¦ but I do want some of my things returnedā¦ but Iām resolved to leave all behindā¦ for my own peace.
Somedayā¦ she will see herself in a mirrorā¦ in the form of her childrenā¦ they are a reflection of her and her behavior. One or both will be like herā¦ and she can experience the pains of having someone disappear for 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 monthsā¦ because of drug addiction, alcohol abuse, hyper-sexuality, impulse behaviorā¦ then show up at the front door, without empathy, professing they did nothing bad (with belligerent anger) and expecting attention, money, acceptance, love and support.
I share this storyā¦ for myselfā¦ and for othersā¦ listen to your intuition. If something doesnāt feel rightā¦ then something is likely not right. And if your intuition is telling you something is not rightā¦ and you witness behavior with your own eyesā¦ remove yourself immediately. And if you are questioning your own realityā¦ you are in too deep. Donāt wait for an apologyā¦ they donāt careā¦ they have the emotional maturity of a 3 year old and that will never change. If that person deflects accountability and tells you that you are delusional, thatās is āgas-lightingā and that is emotional abuse. Donāt give it extra chancesā¦ donāt ask for answers or explanations, donāt play the game (like me) and believe you āknow,ā and all is fine because you are smart and in control. You donāt need closureā¦ your closure is that you are free.
Save yourself from emotional abuse and traumaā¦ walk awayā¦ there is no āfixingāā¦ donāt accept to be ājust friendsā (sociopaths donāt have friends)ā¦ they only use people.
There are many, many people out there that deserve your time, affection and love... and you deserve to receive the same.
Malafama night - She claims to be barrio, chingĆ³na, tough-assā¦ but she canāt play pool, canāt punch, canāt ride a bike, canāt swim, canāt tell the truth, and is afraid to cross the streetā¦ but she can get drunk, do lots of drugs, and play lots of men (at the same time). I have a different word for thatā¦ but everybody has a type. And if you are into easy party girls or fraudsā¦ šš»
La Faena - cool place - horrible night
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