Messiah Like Beings

Woken at 7:30, by the family in the room next to me playing some
very loud music &; their kids singing &; shouting. I almost
reached the end of my considerably lengthened tether, but luckily they
left before I could muster any strength to move. Another four hours
sleep, then time to hunt out a bank &; check e-mails.

Keep on getting flashbacks to yesterday. It was all rather dreamlike.
Obviously, the amount of bro' consumed is a factor of this, but the
whole scenario was so peculiar that it's quite difficult getting my
tender head round it. They both lived in the same room. Jorge told me
he didn't particularly want to stay there, but was forced to by the
magical powers of Horace. I was also informed that Jorge could kill
thirty men with his karate skills.

'I set limits. If they are broken, I will use my karate.'

Didn't want to ask him whether he had actually killed anyone. The
toilet &; kitchen were shared between everybody in this shanty like
apartment block. There must have been about twenty rooms, all about
eight feet by eight feet, with probably at least double the
inhabitants. They were reached via this tiny door off one of the main
Avenidas, then a lengthy corridor that turns into stairs. At the top is
a fire with a stove or two &; a tap &; sink (kitchen) plus the
odd hound.

If we do meet up tonight, I'm wondering what they'll have planned.
Probably much the same, as Jorge assures me that he has remained awake
for 1,800 days in a row. He took a vow of silence for fourteen years
&; has also lived in the jungle for a few years.

FREAKS!!!!

I hope the all seeing all knowing Horace doesn't know what I've
written, otherwise I'm in trouble.

The Mule contacted me via e-mail, which is good news. Nice to hear from
one of the boys at home. Hopefully he'll contact the chick &;
arrange the pad scenario. Also asked him to try parents again. He isn't
one of the most reliable of chaps, but then again, none of us are. Word
to his mutha if he does though.

I'll quickly explain my problem in respect to housing when I return to
London. Bethnal is a squat, but being used commercially for a couple of
months by one of my squatmates. Thus, I need alternative accommodation
for minimum a month, when I return.

Bumping into acquaintances I have gained, whilst ambling around town,
I've realised that they all look like the dodgiest fuckers about. Says
a lot about me I suppose. Wrote a note to the family I met last year
&; slipped it through the door of their apartment block. Even if I
don't hear from them, I can at least say I made the effort. I also got
an e-mail from Keels in Bogota. He's arranging our little Amazonian
excursion. Sounds as if he's got some good contacts. A trek off the
normal tourist trail, trying to find the Colombian Tarzan &;
visiting tribes that have no qualms in eating their gringo guests is
his plan. Sounds great.

Met Issam &; have arranged to meet for a few beverages. First drop
of booze of holiday. I suppose this means Jorge &; Horace will have
to do without me tonight. Or maybe not - I bumped into the chaps on the
way to Issam. We have arranged a Taiwanese dinner, they said. After
discussion with Issam, it was agreed that I have dinner with Horace
&; Jorge, then meet Issam in a bar later. Obviously, I didn't make
it to the bar. Jorge scored some more bro', then took us on a tour of
the university.

Coke scoring over here is quite novel. The dealers tend to cruise
around in their 70's American sports cars with the obvious blackened
windows. The chap we scored off tonight also happened to have a for
sale sign with a phone number emblazzoned across the back window. Easy
- just phone the number &; they'll meet you in the street 5 minutes
later &; drive you 50 yards whilst the deal is being sorted. Out you
get with your stick of lip balm &; consume.

Quite a good tour of the University - we checked out a couple of labs
&; lecture rooms, snorting all the way. The fact that we're so
obvious in our consumption makes our intake unoticable.

The Taiwanese meal turned into a pizza, but the deity thang came up
again. Horace drew a mock Jesus Christ with golf ball eyes &; said
it was me. Another prediction - didn't really understand it, but it's
something to do with a Rick in London. The only 'Rick' I know in
London, bites pillows &; is only known as PB or Richie Roo Diddly
Doo, so I doubt whether it's him. Back to the hotel at 12:30 &;
found a note from the family. Charlie &; Uncle are contacting me
tomorrow.

Very important point on the Bro' scenario, apart from the obvious
clearer mind, you can eat on the stuff over here. Makes you wonder what
the fuck they put in the gear in Blighty to make eating an
impossibility.

I've got an inkling that Jorge is one of the main players in town. He
stated today, whilst we were waiting for the Bro' that his contact is
the big man in Merida. Therefore, pay less, get more - fairplay to the
boy. But in adding up bits of conversations, I've come to the
conclusion that he went down for 14 years for possessing a kilo of the
stuff. Thus, his vow of silence, sleepless nights &; his continual
search for knowledge. Also, all the young reprobates seem to know him,
but approach him with nuff' respect. He also told me that yes, Horace
is infact an alien.