🇲🇽 Patzcuero to Coyoacán - 11.11.24

It’s 10 hours of travel from Patzcuero/Michoacán to Mexico City. Taxis, walking, waiting… but most of the time is spent on the bus. Watching movies in English and Spanish. Bouncy naps. Chatting and snack sharing with the person next to you. Glaring out the window. And lots of time to think… think about stuff.

For me, with my time on the bus, I was able to outline a screenplay… about a foreign solo traveler, named Theo (the protagonist), going to a small village in Mexico to experience Dia de Muertos. And when he arrives, he finds a picture of himself on the “ofrenda” table. “Whaa happening?!?”

The Deuteragonist; a CDMX taxi driver, Tōnatiuh. It’s an Aztec name, a sun deity of the daytime sky. The Antagonist; Cristhian, looks like a romance novel cover model. He has cartel ties from Guadalajara. The AntiHero; JoséFlaco. We never know if he’s a spirit or real. The Sage; PedroTaxi from Tzintzuntzan. He knows everything about everything and is a guide for all worlds.

The dialog will include English, Spanish and a cameo in Dutch. Three indigenous dialects, including a lengthy narration in P'urhépecha. Also, Nahuatl (Aztec), that the protagonists understands in the dream world.

Oh man! There’s adventure, drama, romance, and betrayal. Loads of subtitles. Rock and indigenous music… sometimes at the same time! Twists and turns and flashback and dreams. Explosions, fireworks and fire trucks. Gangstas, and gun shots, car chases… ghosts, spiders, and carnitas and more carnitas! Wow! Good stuff!

It will be great… because I don’t know shit about writing a screenplay… so who’s there to say otherwise? I’ll take it back to LA to show it off to my industry contacts. All of which consists of a number of people that is closer to zero than 2. I’ll hand type it out on old yellow lined notebook paper… and stuff it into a ratty manila envelope; wrap it in jute shipping string. There will be mysterious phone numbers, dates and times written on it… lots of doodles and scribbles. A list of crossed-out rejected titles… and finally, at the bottom, a title that’s circled with enthusiasm, and an arrow pointing to it and noting, “this!!!!” And that title will be, “Tequila Sunburn” which makes no sense but this is just a story. I’ll take my manila covered manuscript to a coffee shop in Echo Park and set it on a table… sip my coffee, and glare, and nod to all others that have works, that are totally misunderstood, on the table before them. Barely coherent mumbles will fill the room, “one day they’ll get this… one day.”

“Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”

- Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country

It’s not likely to even get to the typewriter stage… and if the screenplay makes it all the way into the ratty manila envelope, I’ll eat my hat. It’s about the process… the experience of the creative process and that brings me immense joy and satisfaction… and that’s good enough for me.

For the record… I met all of those people in real life on my Michoacán adventure. And those are their real names. Except PedroTaxi… his name is JoséTaxi… but there’s already a JoséFlaco, whom was the sweetest fella. Tōnatiuh was a CDMX Uber driver and explained his name to me. “Movement of the Sun” in the Nahuatl language. He had a certain presence and owned that name. Cristhian was a young bloke I met at the Tzintzuntzan ruins. He was way too good looking for his own good. He did look like a romance novel cover model. He and his gf were suggesting I go to Tequila in Guadalajara. Nothing good has ever come from me befriending Tequila. I have Cristhian’s WhatsApp number if I change my mind.

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I’m now back in Coyoacán. It’s a place I’m calling ‘home-base.’ A place that I can rest, feel safe, feel supported, be comfortable… to have essential needs around me. It’s important for grounding and to practice healthy routines. In my systems, and it may be temporary, it is home.

I chose to be Mexico… and I’m here for the culture, the people, the language, the food, the experience, and personal growth. To gain knowledge, understanding, and inspirations. I hope to enrich others around me with a message of goodwill, curiosity and compassion. I’m not here because I’m running from something… or someone. And that is important for me to define.

After a trip to Scotland last year… I had put much thought into the idea, like it or not, welcomed or not, that I’m a child of the Americas. Specifically, a child of North America. And with all of the glory, and all of the disappointments… the heart remains full to be… and with a stubbornness that I am indeed where I belong.

I didn’t draw the lines on the map… but I will cross one of those lines next week to return to my country of origin. And there’s a heaviness… and if you’re an empath… it’s a smothering weight. There will always be division, a side, contrast, conflicts… always. Until the human species is no more. If there is good… there is evil… but I am confident in this—the greater good will always truimph over darkness. And it’s a process… and it can be a painful one. As it should be. And now, and to the end, we have each other.

If ya need a hug… I’ll be in San Jose, CA… then Olympia, WA… then I have a meeting with an oncologist in snowy Denver… and finally, San Francisco to close out the year. (and camera pulls back—pans up to the stars… zoom in… cue music) and cut. 🎬 And print. 🎥

🇲🇽🇺🇸🇨🇦 #norteamérica