Ah, Mexico, land of edible pets and John Candy’s death!
In three days, I fly to this paradise of sweetly rotting white meat that is simultaneously the darkest, a paradoxical Erato that has inspired vulvaed artists to paint anonymous roof raisers
and menstruating hands.
Abuelita’s Jalisciense landscape, with its corn-chipishly sweet fruits, ever-multiplying supply of people/pets/meat, and basilicas filled with offerings of human hair inspired her paintbrush to dance a Jarabe Tapatío.
Dust colors Abuelita’s still palette, now. Her brushes miss her tongue.
She was hardcore. She didn’t need amoebic water to rinse her acrylics.
Abuelita’s body lies, unable to move from a nearly doll-sized bed, in her casita en Mezquitan Country. I will sit at her side, hold her hand, and be with her, listening to her breath. Sometimes, we only need to listen to one another breathe. That’s enough.
Because the spirits of Pain and Death lurk up and down Abuelita’s street, her casita molds near an old, old cemetery, I will need something to distill positive energy.
While away from Abuelita’s side, I’ m going to work on my album.
To do this, I roll my eyes back in my calaca and channel my alter eggo, La Naca Del Norte.
La Naca’s debut album, Nacing on Heaven’s Door, contains ten songs and two singles.
The Day Selena Died
Toss Me that Chancla
Pompis on the Couch
The First To Graduate But I Still Need Summer School
Havin’ Snoopy’s Baby
Chonis in the Glove Compartment
¿Qué es GED?
Abuelita Got Ranned Over by the Thingy That Pulls The Thingy
Cross-Eyed Winnie the Pooh
Mexican Muffin Top (flan)
Where’s My Eyebrow?
Anybody en Los Altos de Jalisco have a recording studio I could crash at?
Cause I’m gonna be nacing at your door.