It`s raining. It`s not that surprising seeing as it`s been raining for 58 hours straight. In fact, to write this email I had to maneouver across a railing under a bridge because the pavement that is so used to my perambulations was drowning under half a foot of water (I guess it`s proper to say 15cm here). It all goes back to Saturday night at 10pm.
There I was, in a room with 20,000 of my closest friends watching my favorite Argentine band Catupecu Machu give a concert. I`d come with my American buddies Eric and Heidi, but had lost Heidi somewhere in the tidelike movements of the crowd during the second song. Little did I know that at that very moment a sneaky person pickpocketed me and stole everything I had, including and limited to my billfold and Guia T (the end all guide to everything transportation). Then the rain started. God must be weeping for me.
They stole the 237 pesos I had (it was the beginning of my new week with that being my weekly budget), my AmEx card, my Bank of America card, Bjonerud and Emily Byars phone numbers, my student ID card, and two already expired phone cards (who gets the last laugh? i do. haha). Fortunately I`d just dropped 65 pesos buying Eric and Heidi`s tickets so they quickly paid me back and consoled me.
The concert turned out great, lasting a torrid 3 hours including special guitar players whom I have no idea who they are but got the crowd really excited, general mayhem of jumping, doing our best impression of an ocean (everybody rush in, then get pushed out, repeat), several group kneels (not sure why), and enough sweat to go through three shirts and then some. After the concert, I walked with Eric to his busstop and Heidi to her home (a nice 4hr walk in the rain) then pondered my predicament for 3 hours as I walked from her home to my home.
Here`s a poem:
A dream pushed early into the dark night
is like an egg broken that runs yellow and white.
While both can be salvaged with a quick reaction
neither can become their once certain creation
The chick and the dream are one and the same
though neither will receive attention nor fame
They both died on the night before last
and both leave me longing for the once perfect past
Okay, okay, it doesn`t really fit, but to continue the egg metaphor, I like my thoughts like I like my eggs, scrambled. with salt. and a glass of milk.What`s the conclusion to this sad tale? Well, I`m glad I asked. I think the conclusion is three-in-one, kind of like, God yes, but moreso an egg.
You see, I could be hard like the shell, and conclude that man is evil and especially (wo)men that steal all my money and my GUIA T!, and become cold and calloused and hard, like an eggshell. Or I could crack and spill my insides (thoughts, feelings, emotions, actual intestines, etc.) into a pan I like to call my surroundings. I could angrily scribble angrily scribbled notes in my notebooks (that sentence took a certain finesse that comes only after 5 years of hard labor in a Siberian gulag). I could accost strangers on the subway, bus, or sidewalks to tell them of my sad tale and inquire their feelings on the weather (Is the sky crying for joy or sorrow? discuss in 500 words or less). Or, perhaps I could go through a process, much like cooking an egg. I might be hard for 30 minutes (as I was), crack for 4 hours (a slow crack, punctuated by fierce lightning bolts symbolizing, I`m pretty sure, God`s wrath and vengenance on my enemies like in the Pslams, during my long walk back with friends), but after being tested by the fires of the world (ie robbers, theft, stupidity of keeping both my cards together) I could emerge, like the egg, as a tasty treat seasoned by various sprinklings of sound advice and comforting words.
And that`s where I am now.
I`m an egg.
My thoughts may be scrambled (see above poem), but hopefully this email is a scrambled egg that you`ll enjoy. Laugh with me, cry with me, angrily scribble angry scribbled notes in a notebook, compose off-target poems, steal someone`s wallet during a concert, listen to Catupecu Machu`s A Veces Vuelvo and understand, or maybe just read this email. I have about 6 dollars left, but AmEx says I`ll get a new card Wednesday, so enjoy this email (it`s costing me 16.7% of all I have), and Mom and Dad, if you want to talk, you`ll have to call me...they stole my calling cards, and Bjonerud and Emily if someone calls you from an unidentified number and speaks in Spanish, tell them the story about the egg that could. Thank you all and goodnight,
Josh The Toro Poro (that`s spanglish) Bull
Included is a picture of me in a general dilemma that could signify my current dilemma (Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink) scrambled eggs. and from this morning to show rain.
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