Wednesday, October 12, 2005

7/20/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.6


(continued from 7/20/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.5)

Fortunately, I must have just hit Guanajuato on a night there were more gringos in town, because now (three days later) the town seems closer to it's usual Mexican ambiance. However, the place now seems far too familiar to me. I'm usually arriving in this town either from the North with a little peyote still tumbling around my brain, or from the South with a few mushrooms still alight in my mind. Perhaps that's where the inspiration was coming from? I don't know, but now all I see is a tourist town. Yes, it's still a quaint and colorful montage of rich sights and sounds, but without booze, and a relatively drug free brain this time it feels like nothing more. Has the magic gone? Or, am I only just now seeing Guanajuato for what she really is? Again, I don't know... but it's now been 3 days and instead of being inspired by the place.. all I can think about is hoping for a dry clear day to get back on the open road and move on. I was planning a stop in Morelia or Patzcuero on the way to the coast, but I fear those towns will be mostly the same dreary tourist fare that Guanajuato seems now to be. Perhaps I will just head West and stop somewhere along the way in a small town whenever the mood strikes me and my bum reaches the point where a mere leg-stretching no longer relieves the spiked nervy pain. ;-)

I'll likely head out tomorrow or the next day and don't know where I'll stop next, but I'll certainly stop off in Puerto Vallarta to visit some pals for a few days and will update then. I'm sorry that my excitement had languished a bit, but I'm determined to face at least the next few days without the obsession of drogas or booze. I desperately want to wipe away the facade and rediscover Mexico and my life anew. I don't know where this desire is coming from. Perhaps it's the fact I'm reading Aleister Crowley's "Diary of a Drug Fiend" and it's at the dreary abysmal part of the story where the main characters are spiraling downward from a heroin and cocaine infused honeymoon in 1920's Europe. Quien Sabe. All I know is I have very little care for anything else and seek nothing more than pure clarity of thought.

Until then, hasta luego!

Skip Hunt

(to be continued in part 8/02/05 Mexican Motorcycle Diary pt.1)

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