Slither

"Meat"

I'm sweating pork chops under a parasol on a wide avenue in the city of Bs As. A haze has fallen that spells carne heart attack for young boys waiting on Yoga (Shoga in Argentinian) classes and employment. Considered being a waiter yesterday just to get into some kind of working routine. Still living at the hostel and there appears to be lots of teaching work to be had, I just have to get off of my arse and find those schools and get those curriculums printed off. It doesn't help that I lost the most recent copy and have had to rework the current edition on spanish computers that make it difficult to find templates...

I stumble raucously down the street hand in hand with the lovely Cachorra witnessing police molestation of innocent petrified looking youths on drug store corners and crying babes begging for change. I got out of the organized mania of Buenos Aires for a few days and contracted a social conscience in La Plata, visiting poor neighbourhoods and witnessing police intimidation. But the friends of Franco's I met there were fantastic people and welcomed me to Argentina with open arms, how sweet!

This country rocks like Keith Richards supercharged on wine and valium. I love it!