Rageing With Love in the Heart

After a few months living in a homeless shelter in Mayagüez I moved back to the city of Old San Juan. I had gotten a steady square job almost instantly as a dish washer at a little pretentious brunch spot on Calle Sol.  I was in great shape and my Spanish had improved noticeably since my friends in Mayagüez were not particularly bilingual.

I really did love most of my time on the west side of the island.  I ended up missing it even more by December since I made more money when I was homeless than as I did as an employed and “useful” member of society. I did not have a curfew and that was a relief. Cant put a price on freedom.

I got a shit pay and had to put up with a dumb fuck boss that had just graduated from culinary school.  After a few months of constantly being told I didn’t clean fast enough they finally took me of the roster for the biggest festival of the year, La Fiestas de la Calle San Sebastian.  I used to loathe the festival, its drunken masses that filled the streets with idiocy and urine. This would be year well I would get to be an ass and coat the historic cobble stones with my own piss.

I danced, drank and fucked every night for seven days. I loved going down to Nuestro Son and dancing like I was having a walking seizure, howling and singing  with the thrash punks, thrash metal, thrash salsa, thrash thrash thrash and rage with love. It was the first and only time in my life girls would try to dance with me. On a f ew occasions I would sit down and some towering punk rock Regina Spector lookalike would take me by the hands and pull me from my chair and I would dance to death but I only become more alive. I burned bright for seven nights like some cosmic menorah.

Some of these nights I would I would bring one of these ladies or two back to my little hole in the wall on Calle San Francisco and show them my art and tell them stories. This would be before and/ or after the expected and much enjoyed balling. Fucking in my apartment was like fucking in a preheated oven. It was always 90 degrees in that motherfucker.

The most memorable lay from that week was the friend of a girl I had been trying to lay for a while already. Her friend who had just got stood up ended up going away with me and go dance and thrash at Nuestro Son. She was pissed that her date wasn’t going to sleep with her because he didn’t want to cheat on his girlfriend anymore. What an asshole….

Of course like a dastardly lecher I chose to work the situation.  We talked a bit and I blew her mind. We got drunk on my roof. I tried to kiss her but she told me she couldn’t, because I knew too much about her. I let the issue go. After awhile we decide to call it a night. On the way down the ladder she cuts herself. I take her to the common bathroom to make sure I not to send her away with any serious wounds. She lifts the hem of her skirt just high enough for me to see the small cut. I clean it up but she is still lifting her dress. I look up at her and she is making that hungry look.

She cut herself on the 300 year old ladder that carried and ancient cursed disease that turns a person into a vicious and insatiable sexual kraken. She pulled my face into her and  the rest you can imagine and if you can’t then you’re not mature enough to be reading this yet and should leave your computer right now and go out and be seduced and make love to some willing and hungry fuck zombie.

The morning, two hours later, she left and I never heard from her again, but I learned to enjoy brunch at the very place that layed me off. Later in the day my  ass head former boss calls me up to ask me if I can come in and work. I tell him I am sorry but I understood I was fired and my services were no longer needed. He tells me it was a misunderstanding. I tell him ill get back to him because I have ….. I hung up, I didn’t want to lie but I didn’t want to tell him to eat a dick. Not over the phone at least.

I never went back to that place, and I never really raged again in Puerto Rico after that. I ended up getting a shitty job at a fast food joint in Plaza De Armas and hated it but was hopeful and already had a taste for being homeless.

To Be Continued….


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