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You’re depressed like radio static in the desert, only sometimes is there mariachi. It sounds comical, whimsical, and lonely. In an overheated car you can only wonder why that fucking dude with the giant guitar is so happy. Boring and constant, boring and constant, until it drills into your head - thousands of hornets and your brain is melting. And it’s painful and boring and it might never stop. The desert is so big. Falling asleep becomes passing out. And the dreams are heated in a microwave, but accidentally metallic, sparking unnaturally, and no one notices. Blue and purple. The colors are beautiful. Have you ever put a grape in the microwave? Nothing makes sense like a grape in the microwave. And you wake up and hear a religious radio program in Spanish, understand enough to feel guilty and lonely and betrayed by God. But you still failed Him. Is that possible? Is God lonely? (Y el Espíritu y la...
Esposa dicen: Ven. Y el que oye, diga: Ven. Y el//----
que tiene sed, venga: y el que quiere, tome del agua de la vida de balde.Porque yo protesto á cualquiera --/=
que oye las palabras de la profecía de **//-/
este libro: Si alguno añadiere á estas cosas, Dios pondrá sobre él las //..-
plagas que están escritas en este libro.........)
Fucking talk to me in English, but there is the static again, and there are so many crosses on the side of the road. Thousands of white crosses with white washed rocks, and white washed messages. They tell you the inhabitants of these shacks can love and you cannot. Who lives here? You hope to never meet them, sometimes company induces tear stained nausea. These crosses tell of car crashes and god knows what else. God knows what else, God knows these people. He is their company, and He sends them mariachi. There is no more manna. But you can only wish and pray with your childlike fervor - the kind of nightmares, the kind of fire and brimstone paranoia: Please God help them, wait fuck, help me, please God help me. And then can I help them? One step at a time, and then this desert will be behind you. One gas can, one gallon of water, one day of heat stroke fixated self-loathing. And in the air conditioning you will never remember any of this...

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