hunter

Hi, Internet. It's been a minute, huh? That is because I write all day Mon-Fri and some weekend days too, and when I am done, I want to do something fun, like go to a bar with my friends or listen to music or watch pirated television shows or fuck or go to the beach. But talking about yourself can be fun too, I guess. I like to corral all my most vain and self indulgent and boob showing traits into "Hunter" so I am easier to take in my professional and personal life. But you probably know that already.

Ok, so March/April:

I went to an amazing music festival in Monterrey, Mexico.



Highlights included Best Fwends, Indian Jewelry, Neon Indian, a Mexican band called Alexico, HEALTH, and Liars. Probably more, but I forget. It was a long time ago.



Victor from Das Racist hit me in the face with a beer bottle by accident but it's cool, we're friends now.



Debbie and I decided to take off into the jungle with some dudes we met at the festival. On the bus, we played a drinking game that involved wearing a tiny sombrero.



We got off the bus in a little mountain town called Xilitla where there's an amazing Surrealist castle/sculpture garden called Las Pozas. It was built in the 50's and 60's by an eccentric English aristocrat named Edward James. Because there are no rules in Mexico, they let you climb all over it. It's probably the coolest thing I've ever seen.



As is generally a good idea when climbing shit, we got verrrry stoned off some weed a little old man near the entrance sold us.



We climbed up to the "cloud house" at the top, then down a steep mountain face, then took our clothes off and swam in the water. It was fucking amazing. There were only a few other people there so we thought we were alone when we did this, but then we realized an entire Mexican family was watching us. Crazy gringos.







We went to a crazy colorful town where there was supposed to be this ultra-spiritual "witch doctor" guy, but it was a little disappointing in that he was the type of witch doctor who gives you dumb homeopathic remedies that don't work instead of fun jungle drugs. I bought the closest thing to adderall I could find ("por el desarollo mental") and it didn't do shit. Oh well.



Then we went to Mexico City, where we hung out with some D.I.Y. kids we met in Monterrey and some adorable rich gay college boys.

We went to an art party at "Pre Teen Gallery" that was more party than art.



We then decided to walk around at night in the sorta sketchy/sorta artsy neighborhood (comparable to Bushwick, I'm told, only I don't know the area or speak the language) and crashed an awesome party by shouting up at the people smoking out the window. Sometimes risk pays off.



We also went to some cool museums (the Museum of Modern Art being my favorite) and ate some good food. There are many vegan friendly restaurants in Mexico City. Unfortunately, none of my traveling companions were vegan so I often ended up a) eating tortillas and scowling, or b) dragging them to restaurants they did not want to go to. In retrospect, I should probably have eaten by myself more. Or brought some protein bars. Or traveled with fellow veg*ns, or compromised. Idk. Apparently, I turn into a huge bitch when I don't get enough to eat.





The DIY kids we met in Monterrey brought us to a weird hooker bar.



Gay boyfriends to the left, our two American travel companions to the right.



This art is political!



This art is just cool!

After that, we flew to San Francisco, said bye to the boys, rented a car and drove to Portland. Then I flew back to Austin to get our suitcases we'd left there cause we thought we were coming back, then I flew home. It was a great fucking trip.

Since then it's been back to the usual...working, making money, spending said money on various things that are bad for me, cooking great meals, sleeping late, having fun with my friends, and generally living the life twelve-year-old me used to doodle in notebooks. I also met a genuinely awesome guy who is infinitely nice to me and makes me really, really happy. I'm still getting used to having someone like that around, as that part of my life has been a series of hysterical nightmares interspersed with long, boring, lonely periods of inactivity up until now, and I'm also irrationally scared he's going to learn something horrible about me and leave me, or maybe just disappear in a puff of smoke, but the more time goes by, the surer I am that he is a real, corporeal boyfriend who is totally not a hallucination and also not going anywhere. I'm so ooey gooey over him it's repulsive. And over my life in general. It's rad.