Death or Glory

The Ground opens up before me like some kind of earthen monster made of sand and clay. The cries of the pteryadactyls pierce my ears as they soar overhead. Terror - dactyls is what they fucking are. Their shrill calls shatter the few remaining windows left in the long abandoned Plaza Castilla Towers. Its a monday or a tuesday, or a just-try-not-to-be-eaten day.

Martes 19:45

Dancing on an Awning
All is well. Still looking for teaching hours, but think i'm on the right track. No place to live for sure, but think i'll stay here for a period longer. Not too hot this eve - there is a breeze. The day was a scorcher. I walked to this fill-in job today in unbroken sun. Suprised my watch didn't melt. But still, it was some how bearable. That may change as they are predicting 35C this weekend (96 F).

Okay - Internet problems were fucking rampant at the office today (helping the Daft Cunt with some marketing - and god damn he needs it.) Got not a thing done. Oh well. Hourly baby, hourly. He's going on vacation for 2 weeks and forgot to tell me. Business as usual in Espana.

Putting your Foot Down
Cousin Sydney finally went to a podiatrist for her oft beat up feet (Fell in the Metro while still in TEFL class and Mashed up her foot, put a piece of a bear bottle through the other like two weeks ago.). Gave her some cream and some therapy tips. We knew the best thing is for her to stay off them, but that's kind impossible in Madrid.

Factura
Is my invoice. Got to go finish that for PLT (the group i do intensives with). More later- and that's a threat

July 5th
Got my meds yesterday! Hooray! I did okay in their absence, excepting this blogs opening paragraph.

Always weird to be away on the 4th. The Seester was like "you crusty old expat!" That's me i guess, minus the crustiness. Some American friends and I went to a bar and had a few beers. it was fun.

The week in review

Well, as usual, there was some funky shit going down both inside and outside the city.

No Laughing Matter
The funniest and worst moment of the last intensive was Friday night. The second bottle of vino was half gone and we were at dinner. It was our last night. Abel, my student, ordered cafe. Lyndsay Buckingham, my boss, offered him the sugar. He declined it.

"You take it black," she said.

"Uh...solamente. Nothing in it."

"Black."

"Black?"

"It's like that old joke, 'I like my coffee like I like my women..."

Now, I don't know if it was the vino or what, but Lyndsay is about 27 from Pittsburgh and pretty straight-laced. Nice, but kind of conservative for an expat.

The Spaniards didn't understand and it required an explanantion.

"Let me pull your mask off. Who is this imposter?" I joked with her. We were sitting next to each other.

"What did I start?" she asked.

It was time for an explanation and the punchline.

"So the joke goes, 'I like my women like I like my coffee...." Then she just seemed embarassed. "And how does it go, Jay?"

Okay. My boss was telling me to say this.

"...Hot, black and screaming for cream."

"OH MY GOD!" cries Lyndsay. John, the other teacher, is sprawled out on the table laughing. The VP, mercifully, is laughing, as is another student.

Hoder, i think. "Is that not how you heard it?"

"No, the first two, but not the last one!"

"Oops. That's why I was so surprised you brought it up."

"Never again!"

"Agreed."

But one student didn't get it and the moment was prolonged while they explained to him in Spanish, Then he cracked up.

"Sorry Lyns."

"No no - my fault."

Fair enough. The moral of the story is to never finish someone else's jokes.

Seduction and Table Service
I'm going out with Maria tonight to celebrate the 4th of July.

"What do you do on the 4th of July?" she asked.

"We drink beer and barbecue."

"I love it!" she said.

But to bring you back to our first encounter, we were sitting on a terrace. Our beers were empty and I had tried in vain to get the camerero's attention. Finally Maria started shaking her boobs and motioned to further unbutton her shirt. Now I had just met her and laughed like hell. The waiter kept going. I was transfixed.

She sat sown and faked a pout. " I guess not."

"Maybe he's gay." I think he was because I eventually got his attention.

But what did not go unnoticed by me was that at some point later in the evening, she had unbuttoned the button, revealing more cleavage.

I like this woman.

The Possibility of an Island, part two
The character in the book talked about love as a curse. That once you're head over heels, you're fucked - waiting on phone calls, longing to see the other person, never wanting to see them leave. Very existential, but that's the French for you.

It is a bit scary though. It's that intoxication of being in someone else's presence. Someone that makes you laugh and forget about the passage of time. Someone you hate to be parted from: the other half.

Maybe love evens out once people are married because you couldn't function your whole life with that mad possessive love. I don't know.

Trabaja
I picked up some more work yesterday. I'll be teaching a VP from Oracle at his house on Saturdays from 11 - 2pm. Pretty cool. And also a student who is a Spanish doctor and speaks no English, twice a week.

How death or glory becomes just another story
How death or glory becomes just another story

Every gimmick hungry yob digging gold from rock n roll
Grabs the mike to tell us he'll die before he's sold
But I believe in this-and its been tested by research
That he who fucks nuns will later join the church

-the Clash