Reflections On Argentina, Friends, Booze, Drugs, Prostitutes And Farmville

A loft, hookers, coke binges, binge drinking, binge eating, barely legal girlfriends, fruitless job interviews, North American and British drug addict expats, sex on a swing, sex with my own student, Finnish hard-liquor, threatening to piss on my TEFL instructor’s face, gay Brazilians, straight Brazilians, Jewish Brazilians, Jewish straight Brazilians, attractive local naked drunk girls in nightclubs, unattractive fully clothed North American drunk girls in nightclubs, visiting white friends, visiting Mexican friends, self-hatred, low self-esteem, boxing, drug dealers and two different girls who drank to the point of needing to be hospitalized while hanging out with me.

It’s too bad it all had to end.

I checked out of the loft in October and am now renting a room in the Barrio Norte section of the city. It's close to Recoleta and far enough away from the exclusively North American neighborhood of Palermo for me to be happy. I did not, as I prophesized in my last post, run completely out of money -- although I will by the end of this month if I don't find a job. I've been on a couple of interviews that amounted to nothing and sent out about 2 dozen resumes. I wrote sample press releases for a guy running a real estate Ponzi scheme and I wrote ten pages of proposals for a coke addict pervert expat in Palermo -- both resulting in no job. This is shaping up to be a lean Christmas and if things don't turn around soon I'll be completely destitute and out on my ass before the Chinese new year.

Not that it really matters. The halcyon days in this city are behind me and it's time to think about moving on. I've had an event-filled six months, a real banner half-year that more than makes up for the two years of shit life I endured in Los Angeles. I'll remember these last few months fondly, now it's time for something else. Well, eventually something else. I'm staying on for the next three months to finish a personal writing project but after that it's either back to Los Angeles to make another run at it for a while (because I'm an idiot that likes to keep pressing the button that delivers the electroshock rather than the food pellet) or teaching English in Columbia. I'm leaning towards the latter because at least in Columbia -- even though I may be abducted and tortured by FARC rebels -- I'll have a job more rewarding than bringing morons their iced coffees.

Probably the last noteworthy event of my time here was when my friends from Los Angeles, Hunter and Peter, visited for two weeks. Some of the activities one or more of us engaged in were:

A) getting drunk

B) visiting Uruguay

C) getting high

D) eating asado

E) yelling at prostitutes

F) reading Graham Greene

G) getting thrown out of a nightclub

H) watching a traditional Argentine folkloric dance performance.

Other than that there isn't much to report over the last couple of months. Here's a brief summary of what's been happening since they went back to the U.S.:

I slept a lot.

I got drunk by myself.

I got high by myself.

I was depressed for a couple of days while sober.

I was depressed for a couple of days while drunk.

I was depressed for a couple of days while high.

I played Farmville sober.

I played Farmville drunk.

I played Farmville high.

That's all. 

Manny Pacquiao!