Aliens in Roswell

Today was my last day working in Roswell, and I found this, buried behind the building in the crusty snow. I thought these things were a little more common around here.

A co-worker and I decided it would be a good idea to lower the alien body down over the fence into the dog kennel next door. We raised the alien up and down with a rope like a piñata. The dogs were going nuts! Lunch was over, so we had to get back to work. We put it under some trash for a couple hours then called somebody to pick it up.

Today’s duty for work was to pump tons of liquid concrete into the walls. A huge glob of wet cement slapped me in the face as Greg Jr. dropped the hose above my head.

When I got home, I told my mum about the concrete incident and she had a good laugh.

Prison For Dogs

In Roswell: We’re building a prison for dogs.  These are the walls of the cells where bad dogs are kept until cute children pick them up to keep as their own… or, until the dogs are put into the ovens.

It’s a little depressing coming to this job site every day. The building is actually an add-on to an already-existing dog prison. So, that means I get to hear all of the howling and sounds-of-misery coming from imprisoned dogs of all ages, including the cutest puppies you’ll ever… hear.

There’s dogs every where. The weird thing is, I can’t see any of them, unless I go to the single crack I can find to peek into the other building. Last week, I saw a German Shepherd neurotically pacing his cell, barking in the opposite direction at sounds I was making to get his attention.

Something is not right about being locked up. And these poor pooches know it. They’re deprived of affection. And they go nucking futs without human love.

What a crazy world we live in. Mammals depend on others for their very sanity.

I guess it’s not that mind-blowing. But when you let it be, it can be.

I guess I’ve been thinking in relation to all of the “texts” I’ve read about becoming “whole” and fully integrated with oneself. How much of that can possibly be attained with a by keeping a personality in tact? I think zero. We have to lose all ego before that happens. Some people spend their whole lives dedicating themselves to ego destruction. Is it worth it to transcend a dualistic state? I feel like that a person has got to keep one foot in each state of mind to fully experience what it means to be human. But in my experience, that’s as easy as balancing a chair on one leg. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever taken one foot out of where I’ve been, as much as I’d like to think so.

All because of howling dogs.

I watch movies in my bed.

I’m back in Roswell as of yesterday. This time I came prepared with some movies to watch, a couple that I haven’t seen before. Since I’d never seen it, and I’ve been on a little bit of a Danny Boyle kick, I decided to experience Trainspotting last night.  Apparently, heroin is fun and games, till the baby turns cold and purple.

The third week of my Roswell psychological state is comparable to the tour-psychology of maybe the second week. I’ve had weekend breaks, so I still have a little sense of time. But man, despite the better pay for being out here, I’m ready to be done, away from Roswell and away from the middle-aged roommate power-farts that wake me… every… single… morning…

“You’re smarter than you look… well, sort of.”

The good thing about Roswell is the free Mexican dinners we all get from Eduardo every night.  Tonight is tacos. Me gusta tacos. Me gusta tacos mucho.

Work is weird in the sense that everyone is still trying to figure me out. Guys try to do the bro-ah-bro teasing, seeking a connection in a way by which I’ve never fully learned to react. Then, sometimes dudes say things in passing that I take personally. Taking nonsense personally seems to be an INFP trait (not that I’m confining myself to a 16-personality-types-only definition), and it has happened all my life. The good thing is I’m in a phase that I don’t take shite from anybody when it’s unjustified. And what’s fascinating is, people usually come back begging for your respect again, without having to say a word. Like they feel your negative mental waves or something… justified, of course. That’s the important part.

Then sometimes you learn that what they meant is not at all how it was intended to be received.

Meanwhile, the TV is on next to me, and the national news reports:

“Amazing breaking news we will report on what is really happening today with spirituality…” as images of multi-cultural gatherings take place, including yoga classes.

The news is the first place I want to find out about this stuff, so I gotta go.

TV makes me feel smrt.

I’m getting used to the daily Roswell ritual.

Work.

Go home to Cozy Cowboy Cottage.

Take shower.

Drink alcoholic beverage.

Get on laptop.

Drink 2nd alcoholic beverage.

All while surrounded by the atmosphere of television ambience.

Why does America have so many commercial breaks?

Anyway, tonight Greg Jr. (32) and I watched Transformers 2. His dad is the one who started a fight club in high school.

While watching Transformers 2, I found out what it’s like to have a severe case of ADD and experience the solution.

Before Transformers 2, we watched the E! channel for a good hour. It was about the Top 100 Worst Beach Bodies or something, with a bunch of interview clips of flamboyant, no-name critics talking about how people should look.

Ever seen Mike Judge’s Idiocracy? That’s where we’re headed.

Roswell Snows Too Much

My paycheck is going to be small. A lot smaller than I expected. There were too many snow days this week. It snowed a lot last night.  So we skipped work and slid our way home to Albuquerque, first thing today.

I can’t say I’m looking forward to going back to Roswell. The weather is supposed to be some of the same on Monday.

Working in those conditions is a little insane. Yesterday, the temperature gauge read 29 degrees and didn’t change the entire 8 hours. I had to mix loads of concrete, and wheel barrow it back and forth non-stop.

I’ve been cursing putting myself in these situations.

But the good thing is, I’m finding lots of new muscles in funny places.

Journey to the 5th Dimension: Only $1,000,000

Work was easy today. I slept in till 8 a.m. (a luxury), and only worked 3 hours because we were snowed in. How cute, six grown men snowed in together.

There’s not much privacy in Cozy Cowboy Cottage. There are 4 of us in one room. There was one point where I was obligated to entertain 2 of my roommates while I was playing guitar. I played Hendrix and Weezer for them. They were attentive, belly-down on their own beds with fists digging into their cheeks. I soon discovered that all they craved was Volver, Volver, a Vincente Fernandez hit. I don’t really know why I expected any different.

Brian told me about meeting Wiley Brooks, of the Breatharian Institute. If you are curious about the following, I highly recommend visiting his website:

• How you can get initiated into an accelerated ascension process to reach the 5th dimension before 2012, when the Mayan Calendar ends, and hence, the world.
• How Wiley can lift 1200 pounds without any previous weight training.
• How Wiley can survive every week with only 7 hours of sleep (total).
• How Wiley can go inhumanly long periods of time without eating or drinking anything.
• Why consuming nothing but McDonald’s Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a Diet Coke is necessary for enlightenment.

…And finally, how he’s charging one million dollars, that’s $1,000,000, to learn how to do all of it.

Roswell: Cozy Cowboy Cottage

I will be working in Roswell, NM for the next month. It may sound bad, but when you get a paid stay at Cozy Cowboy Cottage, it’s not too shabby at all.

There are six of us in this house, ages ranging 27-57, 6 beds, 2 floors, and 3 TVs with every channel. Half of us speak Spanish by default, while 83.3% of us like to spend the evening watching football, and 16.7% of us brought our guitar and computer to pass the time.

I’m glad Cozy Cowboy Cottage has free Wi-Fi. That way I can continue to knead ibelieveinhumans.com with my sweet, sweet words.

During lunch today, I joined my fellow Spanish-speaking workers (P.C.) and was offered chicharrones with homemade red-chile-del-árbol along with a delicious bean burrito with a chile relleno in the center. They warned me that it might be hot, and our other white worker (non-P.C.) said:

What, you don’t think he can handle it because he’s a white boy?

Laughter broke out. But I ate the burrito and insisted on talking about how good it was so they knew I could handle it. Then I pulled out something from my lunch bag:

Worker: What is that, a tortilla burger?

Me: It’s a quesadilla.

(Groans of approval)

Then I proceeded to offer some sugar-coated almonds. The results were less than satisfactory.

After work I went shopping to stock up on groceries for the week. Then, as I was unloading my bags at Cozy Cowboy Cottage…

“You’re really into that healthy shit, huh.”

Then I turned around, clutched my rice to my chest, and hid my Whole Foods bag as a tear rolled down my cheek.