This is SPAM
You never willingly signed up for this newsletter. Nevertheless, I assumed you wouldn’t mind receiving unsolicited monthly content because, well, you have nothing better to do with your life.
I get it. It’s uncouth. So if you feel that I’m intruding into your private, precious —mediated, algorithmic, corporatized—space, you can unsubscribe here.
Ok. Now that that’s settled let me tell you I’m psyched to be restarting this project after a long period of pandemic-induced hibernation. I’ve emerged from my man-cave with outrageous body odor and texts in all shapes and sizes, which I can’t wait to jam down your throat.
What you’ll be receiving will not always be apt for the faint-of-heart or the linguistic puritans; en esta casa se habla Spanglish, which means that the texts will cover all the spectra between English and Spanish (sprinkled with a bit of Deutsch, natürlich).
I prefer not to bore you with the reasons for this, let me say they aren’t very reliable.
Anyway, stay tuned next month for the next dispatch of Tenochtitlán Blues, baby! Meanwhile, here’s a picture of a neon T. rex skeleton:
