They Keep Honking At Me

At first I was sure to be mistaken. Yet there was no one else around on foot or in traffic. Perhaps her hand had slipped? The second time however there was no mistaking it. The overabundance of face and fleshy limb protruding out the window howling a cat call with the other hand firmly planted on the horn. The women here are objectifying me. Little more than a week into my adventures on the boarder town of McAllen, it has now happened enough times that I am growing accustom.

However my appearance garners me a considerable amount of attention from both sexes. No one has hair like mine and I have to be in the bottom 0.1% of the populations body mass ratio. I took a picture of the passing post man while he was on his route, and ended up being questioned about what the hell I thought I was doing. But he was at least two hundred and fifty pounds and driving this little US postal service van right up to the mail boxes and dropping the letters off through his window. I guess he thought I was a terrorist on account of my strange looks and picture taking as I had to answer for my actions and explain that... well... in Canada the postal workers walk. He ended up laughing it off and talking to me for a while about the van and how awkward it is to go from a auto with the wheel on the right hand side of the chassis to his own car with the wheel on the left. Every one is very friendly, and no one has any issue trying to start a conversation with me.

Walking down one of the main roads past an out door car wash I noticed one of the workers call to another to point me out as I past. I turned to face him full on and started waving before he managed to spot me and when he did was completely perplexed as to why I was waving at him with a shit eating grin on my face. This happens often. I will catch half of a couple pointing me out to the other(s) and then do my best to be staring them down before they manage to make eye contact. I love to watch them freeze like a deer caught in head lights. Yes I know you turned to look at me, and I am staring right back at you.

I feel pretty good today considering.

The night before last set the bar for worst night of my life. I knew it was not going to go well and tried to go to bed early in the hopes of sleeping through it, but lacking my preferred method of distraction I found myself unable to ease my mind and lay wide awake for nearly fourteen hours hardly able to move. It felt like a full sized pencil was passing through my lower digestive system, as a whole new section of my guts lit up with white hot pain. In short contracted gasps I lay hardly able to breath, as the movement of my diaphragm placed nearly unbearable pressure of my digestive system. I never cry, or call out. It always seemed silly to me, even when there was some one around to hear me. So I lay still and wait, while my brain bangs on the inside of my skull begging for escape.

It is in these times that I miss my old friend the most, but it always surprises me how simply it slips from my mind. There is no underlying tug, or feeling of emptiness brought on by its absence. Indeed my brain has been far more demanding that I get Reddit back to feed its need for novelty than it has been for more familiar company. I have also found to my disappointment that my chronic fatigue is not linked to these rituals. I am just as exhausted as ever.

I miss you greatly, but it is 26 °C s here, and a full forty nine degrees colder back there.

So you know. Fuck all that.