almost okay

Dear Lyzako,

Greetings from the road!

Once again I find myself involved in another 'project' that has taken me far from the comfort and familiarity of home. Another day, another dollar, another shotgun blast through the fabric of my soul, as those bitter, gun-toting folks in Pennsylvania say. While I am unable to disclose the exact nature of my 'work', I can divulge that as I type this I am a mere stone's toss from the Mexico border, sitting in yet another drab hotel room, waiting for it all to be over and keeping my fingers crossed that I will survive.

All in all, I'd rather be painting.

It's colder here than I expected. Being in sunny southern California so near the equator in late spring I thought I'd be tank-topping and flip-flopping all over the place, but a chill in the air has required a light jacket and long pants much of the time. While not unpleasant, it's very similar to Motor City weather this time of year.

I can't complain, though. The Tecate and tequila are cheap here and the brown-skinned girls plentiful. I've fallen in love four times in three days, one girl hypnotizing me with her ass as she walked through the mall yesterday. I fell for that one without even seeing her face!

I had just finished my lunch of food-court Chicken Teriyaki, and was killing some time window-shopping when I spied her strutting along in front of me, that gorgeous tight ass attached to long, shapely legs, the whole shebang adorned in curve-hugging, gray pin-striped Capri pants, her slender and tanned bare ankles showing, her tiny feet in black pumps clicking across the tiles as her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

Since we were both headed in the same direction, I decided to follow her for a bit as she yakked away on her cell phone. I was absolutely mesmerized by her movements, her cat-like stealth and poise as she walked, perfectly placing those high-heel-clad feet one in front of the other as though she were a walking work of art, a statue of my ideal woman come to life, a too-short-but-gorgeous contestant on 'America's Next Top Model' for Christ's sake.

Unfortunately, I lost her when my cell phone rang and the 'job' required my immediate attention.

Tonight I'm easing the pain of that loss by swilling more Tecate, shredded wedges of lime cut with an extremely dull plastic knife squeezed into the cans. This Ramada has no room service and since the nearby dinner options include only Burger King, Denny's and convenience store pizza, I'm making do with a bag of pistachios and some chips and salsa leftover from yesterday's supper of fish tacos, rice and beans (which, by the way was the worst Mexican food I've ever eaten, including Taco Bell).

Hmm... It feels as though I'm rambling. I guess that I have no real message to convey this time out, no wisdom to impart (other than the fact that you can't always get a good fish taco even if you're less than twenty miles from Tijuana), no foolish confessions or humorous observations to make. I will say that when this new 'work' began to involve travel, the trips at first seemed like minor adventures to me. Now they just feel like work.

I can't wait to get home.

Very Truly Yours,
Marty Sherman

PS: Since I was actually in your time zone for the first time in six months, I attempted an after-nine o'clock call on my cell phone to you, even left you a rambling voice mail. I didn't realize until just a moment ago when I was thumbing through the channels that tonight is 'Hell's Kitchen' night. Understanding that you're a fan of the show (and that vulgar Scottish prick Chef Ramsay), I whole-heartedly forgive you for not picking up. Just so you know, though, if you happen to call back and I don't answer, I'll more than likely be in Hell's Toilet.