My Eyes, My Desires, and My Beatings

I couldn't decide which photo to use this morning, so I posted both.

Although I've never met Lisa's husband, I feel a special kinship to her. And if Patrick Stansbury of http://www.pentagon-usa.com/ doesn't pay me the $34,200.00 he owes me, I'll soon look like Marty Feldman -- my eyes going COMPLETELY AKIMBO due to my glasses being thoroughly scratched from my being beaten up THREE TIMES in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico while I lived there six months in exile. I NEED new glasses, Patrick!!!

>>> THIS JUST IN FROM HUFFINGTON POST ONLINE:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-wooledge/clint-eastwood-gay-marriage-straight-allies_b_1087446.html . LOL!!! Too bad that (according to STRAIGHT GUYS in Wilmington, NC) only ONE IN EIGHT married WHITE men here is truly straight -- the others being closeted gay guys hiding behind wives and girlfriends!!! If we had more HONEST men in Wilmington, there'd be FAR less VIOLENCE and ALCOHOL AND DRUG ABUSE!!!

Gentle Readers might recall that one of those Mexican Months I was held hostage in a Crack House (at 1690 Calle Costa Rica -- one of the places I was beaten up). I was also beaten (MOST severely) by THIS crack addict (who earlier had doubled as a Shaman and introduced me to wild mushrooms in cow paddies 45 minutes south of P.V.): http://www.artinmassage.com/ . At the time, I lived most conveniently at the corner of Calles Rio Colorado and Rio Usumacinta -- directly across the street from a Cemeterio. Later, I learned the neighborhood was the worst crack neighborhood with MANY disappearing and later found dead. I actually lived in a NEW apartment owned by a crooked (but handsome!!!) lawyer.

"Henry Red" actually looks BETTER than in this photo, and his massages are "to die for"!!! He was once one of the highest paid Mexican Rent-Boys, being flown to Las Vegas frequently to satisfy wealthy clients. While I knew him, he kept his crack kit up his cavernous behonkus so that you had to X-ray him to catch the goods. Really!!! (and why I had no clue about that for months). AND he could drive my Pontiac Vibe over all manner of Mexican mountain roads like it was the best performance car you ever needed.

I'd recommend him for his warmth and uninhibited massage, driving, and shaman-ing skills. Really #2!!! I'd even trust him with my life today. Later, after the six weeks it took my bruised ribs to heal and I wasn't afraid to approach Enrique, he'd pass me a 500 peso note or cigarettes when he had them. I think he genuinely felt bad that he'd been manipulated by his crack supplier into trying to murder me.

>>> BELIEVE IT OR NOT: We never had sex.

My THIRD up-beating was by a WOMAN -- the woman who leased the house on Calle Bolivia that I lived in with four others. She and her husband owned a restaurant on Mismaloya Beach, and when I demanded they return my car, which they had borrowed for half a day, a day later, she chased me down the beach and tackled me on the foot bridge over Rio Mismaloya. THAT is where my glasses REALLY got scratched -- by that Cat Woman!!! (Her family had set her and her husband up in the restaurant using money they'd made as big drug traffickers.)

And it was at HER house that my second cat, Stella Lo-Rider, was trapped when they chased me out under threat of either a beating or stabbing -- I forget which. Stella was an adopted, feral, street cat, so I trust she's doing just fine on her own in Puerto Vallarta. I hope to find her when I return someday . . .