the beginning of a book i'm trying to write

f people like this and yearn for more, I might post more. furthermore, if you are a publisher or agent, contact me.

title pending


Mexico. The hot sun is coming down. That’s what it does down here. I need to find a telephone booth.
I am sweating and the sweat drips off my nose as I ask the little Mexican fellow sitting outside this little corner store in the middle of this desolate landscape if there is a phone nearby.
“Una telefona, amigo?” That’s all I got in my Spanish language repertoire, short of holding the thumb and pinky of my one hand close to the ear and mouth respectively.
“Around back, amigo.” The little man replied with a little smirk.
“Thank you.” I said and walked around the corner of the dusty little shack. I need to call a cab and find a hostel of some kind. I have 2000 dollars. I got enough for some time in Mexico but not that much time. Not enough time it seems. Fuck it. There is always time.
I call a cab.
“Una hostella?”
“No problem, senor. And which one would you prefer? Near the ocean?.”
Amazing how everyone in this country speaks English. How about that?
“The cheapest one, my friend. I’m not really worried about seeing the ocean, just need a place to think.”
“Ah” said the little driver “I know just the place”.

It was just the place. It was a cheap room in the nearest town. There was no ocean. In fact the room was just a small room in the back of a man’s house. It is exactly what is needed when one needs to disappear. A tiny, shitty smelling little hovel built into the side of a shittier larger main hovel in the middle of nowhere in Mexico.
It has a cot. There is also a little table nearby. I have some pencils and paper and this is what I start writing for you. It is a story that must be told if only for the sake of my motherfuckin’ sanity. I need to understand how this worked because I am in a lot of trouble for it. I don’t know if I’ll go to jail. I don’t know what I will do from here. I need to start a new life. I need to keep moving. I need to maybe get a lawyer. I shouldn’t have run. I guess it doesn’t really even matter anymore.
She is dead. He is dead. My life has changed irreversibly. Everything that has been has been destroyed. I can’t play music. I wouldn’t even want to. I need to try and move forward. I need to get this out and I will try to stay away from harm until this is done.
I will try to recount the story, as I mentioned, for my motherfuckin’ sanity because it will not make sense to me until I see it all out. This story must exist, as well, perhaps for someone to understand that I do not think I was to blame for the things that I have done.
I only loved her I only tried to keep a dear friends memory alive. Of course I enjoyed myself a bit. But I feel that I even was helpful and influential and used what I used to have for good, not evil. What a fucking rats nest of a problem it all turned out to be.
I didn’t know these things. I didn’t know that it would work itself out this way. Wouldn’t I have fucking changed it if I had? I think I would because I am not a bad person. I would not harm anyone intentionally. I don’t know if anyone will believe me. After all that is happened, I don’t know if I believe myself.