"Rotting in the Sun"

Chilangos, gringos, and my favorite ham sandwich in Mexico City

Hey y’all! Before we dive into the story, I want to ask some advice. Do you think I should shave off my beard and/or cut my hair? Both have grown out quite long and I’m curious to get people’s advice on if I should just trim it, or what. What do you think would look best? Comment below!

Note: this issue is about everything and anything, feast on it baby! Don’t think about it too much, just enjoy it. Have fun. Let your hair down.

Holas chicos!

I hope you are all having a lovely Wednesday. Well, at least it’s Wednesday for me here in Mexico City. February 7th. Such a strange time of the year. I’m about to dig into my third cup of home-brewed coffee and do a bit of work and writing. And then tonight I’ll be diving into the city's annual art week with some friends.

What I ate today at brunch, doesn’t it look divine? It was DELICIOUS.

Last night I stayed up until about one or two in the morning watching this really fascinating film called Rotting in the Sun. It tells the story of a famous director / visual artist who is (very meta!) playing himself, and it explores his disillusioned life in Mexico City, whereas a semi-famous, semi-wealthy, moderately respected gay man, he dips in and out of consciousness, flirting with thoughts of ending his own life via a drug that, according to the film, is easy to obtain here. (depressing!)

I chose the film because, as you may or may not know, I am queer Latinx man, so a movie looking at the salacious lives of queer Latinx (for the most part) people who are living in the city I am currently living in, seemed like a safe bet!

I was initially drawn in as well by the compelling performance of Catalina Saavedra, who plays Señora Vero, a housekeeper for Sebastián Silva, our protagonist and also the writer, director, and producer of the project.

Sebastian or Seb as he is called, lives in a funky, always under-construction building in the Roma Norte district of CDMX, which is known to be the place of the artists, the rich, the expatriate, and the gentrifier.

His walls are splattered with lewd and inspired drawings of sex, desire, a preoccupation with death and dying, as well as a series of quotes, some of his own design, some from books he is perpetually reading throughout the film, some from his intrusive thoughts about life and its value.

His landlord, who runs and owns the property, Mateo Riestra, who seemingly is also playing himself, seems to always be around, chatting with Sebastian, and egging him on. The two seem to have the sardonic dark humor of best friends or brothers who have been through so much together that their biting remarks might seem much more severe to the outsider.

In Mexican society, as in all countries and societies around the world, there is rampant colorism, sexism, classism, racism, homophobia — all of these things, and while Silva doesn’t explicitly name them, especially with Veronica’s character we see how a certain class of Mexican woman is treated as inferior, especially when placed in these servile roles. The film notes that Veronica must travel for nearly two hours just to get to work because she is not wealthy enough to live in the town in which she is employed. She is also perpetually bullied by both Mateo and Sebastian, sort of a chronic annoyance to the both of them. She’s constantly treated as less than, which is super disappointing to see.

Through these severe interactions, we get the sense of how a certain economic class is treated in Mexican society, by a more privileged, less caring elite class. As Silva is playing himself, it seems an intentional indictment of the artistic set, the almost egregiously rich, the mostly famous, those who have the luxury of preoccupying themselves with the great questions of philosophy and life instead of the dire realities of survival, as someone in Veronica’s place might have to more readily consider.

The film shows Seb taking lots of Ketamine, a horse-tranquilizer turned popular modern-day party drug, which is known to introduce a state of euphoric hallucination, in which it is as if you are floating through space, while lying completely still.

Are you enjoying these random photo breaks? LOL. Every meal I’ve had in this town has been INCREDIBLE.

To both Veronica and Mateo, Seb is recounting often how he likes this dead feeling. He seems at serious unease in the world, especially when walking his dog around Roma Norte, observing the many white expats who speak in loud English and patronizing Spanglish to the Mexican working class.

Sebastian seems to be wrestling with a city, that for nearly a century now, has represented the start of a new life for the expatriates who call it home, this is, however, a double-edged sword, as the swarms of remote workers often do not contribute to the local economy, drive up rent prices, and seemingly do not learn the culture or the customs, leading to businesses that must then cater to their privileged English-centric lifestyle.

Back at his apartment, a photographer for a magazine arrives, led in by Mateo, who is there to take photos of a series of canvases, which are still wet, implying that Seb stayed up all night completing them. Unfortunately, Veronica, who has only pure intentions in mind, accidentally stacks them one on top of the other, ruining them in the process as their designs dry incorrectly. This leads to a massive row and threats and chastizing of Veronica that further show the extreme attitudes towards the servant class.

The photographer, as he’s leaving, suggests that Seb could do with a vacation and recommends he goes to Playa Zipolite, a gay nudist beach, known for raucous parties. There he reads and seems uninspired by the bounty of sex, cruising, and naked men who both exist around him and try to entice him into their space.

Later, as he is taking a swim, seeming even to be unable to relax in a beautiful place, he discovers someone is drowning. In an attempt to save the man, he begins drowning as well, caught in the rip tide. The hoard of naked men assemble to rescue them both, and Silva, who is angry, in pain, and overwhelmed by his near-death experience is set upon by Jordan Firstman, the man he tried to save.

Jordan, who is also playing himself, or at least, a version of himself, is absolutely shocked that Silva is who he is. He states over and over again that he just watched Sebastian’s movie only the night before and WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

Silva seems unimpressed by Jordan’s manic, vapid, egotistical energy. Firstman, who is a famous influencer, writer, actor, model, and comedian in real life, seems to be essentially amplifying all of his worst real-life traits, or at least, the traits that others might wrongfully perceive in him.

After continually pursuing Silva, who just wants to be left alone, Firstman begins to pitch his movie, a self-involved farce that is essentially the TV show version of his Instagram account.

I took a writing break here to eat lunch ❤

The lunch in question!!! Lol. It didn’t photograph well but this ish was DELICIOUS!!!

Wow I took a mental note here to myself that I took a break from writing and then a few days passed LOL. Well, I am back my loves, and here to jump back in. Let’s see, where was I? Okay I was writing this on Wednesday, February 7th, the night after I saw this film and now it is Friday, February 9th. My dad’s birthday is tomorrow!

Isn’t it so fascinating how our consciousness changes so much each and every day? I literally feel like I was a different person even only just a few days ago. Despite this ever-changing consciousness, this film has stayed on my mind.

We last left off on the beach. Sebastian Silva, essentially playing himself, has just almost drowned. It’s interesting that so much of this movie is essentially skewering the wealthy who’ve invaded Mexico City because these are some of the conversations and things that have been on my mind the past few days.

Also in the spirit of letting my consciousness wander wherever I feel most called, I also have been thinking a lot about one’s will to create in the first place. This seems only slightly tangential, because Silva’s film is mostly a mediation on what drives us to create in the first place, and what it means to be alive, why do we want to make art? And what is art when gate kept?

Also, as it’s art week in Mexico City, it’s also a somewhat strange time to have this film enter my consciousness, because Silva, who I believe lives only ten minutes from me, has his work displayed at a gallery down the street (how random?!) I’m almost positive that I see him and his dog at least ten times per day, haha.

I’m debating internally now whether I should keep recapping this film or maybe honor where my consciousness is at this moment? Hmm, perhaps in the spirit of following through and finishing things, I should just see this essay through, warts and all, giving you all even this live accounting of my thoughts as I write it. I always think it’s quite interesting to see authors wrestling with their creative consciousness in the midst of an essay.

I’m listening to smooth jazz, I just finished a delicious dinner that I cooked with my best friend Ayanda, who is on the couch reading beside me. For dinner, we made locally sourced burritos. There’s a little farmer’s market in Condesa that’s just a few blocks from our place on Fridays. We got platanos, and spinach, and guava, and pastries, and eggs (in a bag! random!), as well as some fresh cheese, mushrooms, onions, peppers, and some other cooking essentials.

After we finished a working sesh at a nearby coffee shop that we liked, we cooked dinner together. We’ve been doing this often lately, we’ve perfected a little dance between us, a comfort I’ve almost never felt in a kitchen.

For some reason, I feel safe and comfortable doing things with Ayanda. Usually, I feel extremely hesitant to ever ask for help or to do activities in tandem with or alongside someone.

I’m not entirely sure why, I have a bit of OCD, I suffer from intrusive thoughts and I just never feel fully safe or trusting to do a task with another person — but Ayanda makes me feel very safe and secure, and I can tell that in our best friendship I am building the skills I will need to be in a long term relationship with a future partner: trust, direct communication, transparency, etc. She’s a really phenomenal person and I’m so lucky to be building this life with her. If only I weren’t gay! Lol.

Anyways back to this essay. Or maybe another tangent: Just now I was going to change the music vibe — is that what I was doing? Anyway, another thing I’ve been thinking about lately is creative resistance. This is actually a topic Ayanda talks about often on her podcast.

I’m not sure if it’s the altitude, going up on my depression meds, or how active I am during the days here, but I’ve just been feeling so unmotivated lately, I don’t feel that crisp sharp sense of purpose I usually feel when writing or creating. It could be because I’m eating healthier and sleeping longer and drinking much less caffeine and maybe my body is developing a somewhat more peaceful way of existence, where I don’t feel like completely hopped up on Monster energy and need to get my anxious energy out through writing.

Some photos from the gallery!

Sometimes I worry that I’ve run out of things to say, but that is almost never the case. Sometimes I fear its that nobody will care or that my words won’t be read or taken seriously, but I often come out of that delusion quickly, realizing that my voice is just as valuable and necessary as anyone else’s, because we are all one another’s mirrors, guiding each other home, providing clarity and comfort along our unique journies, or perhaps, even just giving you a space or place to read and unwind after a long day, a chance to luxuriate in someone else’s consciousness, and someone else’s life.

I know I love to to do this with other creators, and I know lots of people love to do this with me, I receive so much lovely fan mail, especially on TikTok and Substack, and e-mails from people who resonate deeply with what I’m saying. But, as flattering and motivating as these kind words are, I also want to get to the place where I create without conditions. I want to have the same courage and conviction I had those first 6 months on TikTok before the account blew up where I was positing interesting things because I sincerely wanted to, where I was recording my consciousness because I felt compelled to do so, not because I felt I must to appease others, or that I — I can’t even find the words for this particular sentiment, because I think it’s also quite beautiful to write in service of your readers — so it’s not the negation of that sentiment I’m getting at — more I guess that I want to write for me first.

It’s sort of like those plane demonstrations, when they say you should always affix your own life vest before you fix anyone else’s. I want to be brave enough to do this. To fix my own life vest and oxygen mask first, and then help to adjust others.

Or maybe, because my writing isn’t saving anyone’s life here, except maybe my own, let’s be honest, maybe the more appropriate metaphor is a cup that runneth over.

I need to pour into my own cup before I can pour into anyone else’s. I can’t expect to give and write and exist from a state of abundance if I don’t pour into myself. I think watching films, like the one we were discussing earlier is exactly that, a way I pour back into my mind, body, and spirit. The film gave me so much to think about and was a certain kind of rejuvenating practice.

It’s fascinating how much it takes to make up a human life, you know what I mean?

How much it takes to find peace and clarity and comfort — for some reason that TV series and book Nine Perfect Strangers just entered my mind, what an emotional and gripping watch that was, but I think that same feeling of longing that existed within each of the characters, how they were continually each searching for something, how they had all the traps of external fulfillment: wealth, beauty, fame, connections, genius — but still there was this aching itch that needed to be addressed, one that was so severe that these people paid an exorbitant fee to go to a camp to discover themselves.

I think what’s funny is that even though the series is perhaps satirically criticizing those people, it’s also deeply humanizing them. We all seek to fill or answer the missing or misunderstood pieces of ourselves, and I think we all, myself included, would seek that kind of comfort if we had the means.

As most of us do not have the means, and do not find self-soothing solely within ourselves — I’m in the same boat — we seek out what we have access to: TikTok, podcasts, medium articles, substacks, meditations, music, television, film — all beautiful things that replenish, restore, revitalize, and heal core aspects of ourselves, or maybe even things that just hold up mirrors to help ourselves face the parts of our lives we would rather ignore, or merely just the wonder of popcorn escapism, where you can disappear into the consciousness of another for a while. This also is a completely beautiful and valid thing.

I’m wondering how much to make my writing stream of consciousness, I’m not really sure who is dictating at the moment, my ego or my authentic self — I wonder if I walk you through my day, I sort of don’t feel as connected to walking you through the rest of that movie, as in-depth as I was, though I recognize that my consciousness from Wednesday did feel the need to tell you in detail what would happen, maybe I’ve already given you enough, one more detail to entice you: the main character is killed, and the rest of the film is a murder mystery who dunnit!

Okay, I won’t tell you anymore, and I hope you’ll watch the rest of it, maybe we’ll return to that former consciousness and talk more about gentrification in Mexico, apparently from the title of this I also was earnestly going to to tell you about my favorite ham sandwich.

Why the hell not? So there is a delicious ham sandwich just down the street at a place called Manduca, that has remarkably cooked croissants con ham y queso. I adore these croissants and I eat them ravenously, they are super yummy and filling and pair really well with my morning coffee. I’ll see if I can fetch a picture and put it below this for the added effect.

I’m obsessed.

Apart from that what else did I want to tell you. Well, Wednesday night was actually pretty interesting. So after writing the first part of this essay / diary entry / stream of consciousness and after pausing writing to make the aforementioned lunch, I went out to join Ayanda for a night on the town at art week. We went to this stunning gallery opening.

There, we met this very kind man named Johann, who had only arrived in Mexico City that day, he was so lovely, he had a very magnetic aura about him. We met up with our friend Misako, who is also a big TikToker, and we all just toured the gallery together.

It was lovely. It’s actually quite interesting being with Ayanda and Misako in public because they are both internet famous and as such people often recognize them and fangirl, which is a cool experience to witness.

I always feel a swelling of pride when someone recognizes Ayanda, I’m like DAMN RIGHT MY BESTIE IS A BADDIE.

It’s always quite fun to meet her fans. I wonder what that experience will continue to be like as she gets more and more famous, because I often hear stories first or secondhand from or about celebrities about how they don’t really enjoy fame, but I think at the level of proximity we have to it now, it’s actually quite peaceful and enjoyable, but I do imagine how it can shift drastically as global knowing increases.

I’ve had tastes of this, probably most notably when I was a television and film actor, and during my days modeling in Manhattan.

There, being in proximity to celebrities, millionaires, and billionaires so often, I sort of got the taste of what it’s like to live that type of life. Now, I occasionally get a taste of internet fame, and I’m not opposed to it, but I’m definitely not seeking it out.

I’ve often heard from friends that they’ve been in line for something and seen me on someone’s phone(!!) always jarring and kind of thrilling to hear, and in my hometown I have been recognized a handful of times, mostly at bookstores oddly enough, but I have the kind of internet fame that’s extremely niche, like I only have ~45,000 followers, but my videos have been seen over three hundred million times, so there’s a chacne I’ve come across your FYP and you might recognize my face, but I’m also not consistently active on TikTok so perhaps it’s that kind of fleeting fame — is that a concept?

Anyway, I do remember getting recognized most when House of the Dragonseason 2 was out, during that period my account on tiktok was heated and my channel literally got 5 million or more views every single day and sometimes when I was out and about in Atlanta people would say “Omg I follow you on TikTok!!!” lol. Always a funny and kind of fun experience.

But anyways, getting off-topic, so we went to this beautiful gallery, and the entire time I was really blown away and also just feeling really deeply connected to the art.

The space was just so beautiful and I was thinking a lot about my mom and her disability and illness and how much of life she doesn’t get the opportunity to experience because she isn’t mobile, and was just like egregiously sending her pictures of literally everything I was doing.

I feel often guilty that I have the life I do and that my mother’s life in particular is so confined because of her illness.

She’s so loved and has so much care and joy and purpose and all of those things, but I recognize how much her disability physically prevents her from doing all the things and going all the places she might want.

She always says that she wants to live vicariously through me, and I’m more than happy to document everything for her, but I often feel a deep sense of guilt and shame that I would have so much abundance, when she is sometimes in such excruciating chronic pain.

I never want to take anything with my mind, body, and spirit or situation ever for granted, because I both know how it all can be gone in a second and also that even if my life is always the way it is, that my health can rapidly deteriorate at any moment, like we all could literally die or get infected by a random illness at any moment, we must center gratitude and thanks for all of the many blessings we have at all times, life despite its many faults has given us so many blessings and we can never ever stop being grateful and trying to give back as much and as often as we can!!

After that, we went for dinner at SoHo House, a beautiful members-only club, (thank god for generous friends!!) We had a really lovely dinner and I got this quinoa grain dish. There I met my new friend Cat Lantingua an influencer, writer, and author. Be sure to check out her work!

After we left that space we went to an afterparty, it was really fun and I met this up-coming artist who was putting on a cool gallery show. I really liked her vibe. She was very sweet and her mother was there, and it was so cool to see how supportive and loving her mom was of her work.

It’s Saturday now and I’m rereading this essay, I have notes to go more in-depth into this experience, but in the interest of done being better than perfect, I‘ ’m going to publish it as is and return later to tell you more.

SoHo House CDMX!!!

Future essay topics I want to explore next: In praise of staying in…

(Comment your thoughts on this)

Idea: So it’s art week in Mexico City, one of the hottest times to be in CDMX, and because I happen to be best friends with a famous TikToker, we are getting invites to incredible art galleries and parties, and last night, I don’t know what came over me, but I just developed a terrible headache and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed, order delivery pizza, watch a movie and go to sleep. When this happens, the FOMO demons come out in full force, saying, but Alex you sleep all the time! Push yourself! Rally! Go out!

How many times in your life will you be living with your best friend in Mexico City and get to go to exclusive parties?!

After much internal debate, my inner child won, I listened to the wisdom of my body and had a perfectly lovely evening in, I didn’t even feel guilty or FOMO the next day. While the parties from last night sounded incredible, I had the courage to know that there will always be more parties, and what my body needed was to rest, there will always be more art weeks, I need to not look at my life with a scarcity mindset, but one of abundance.

Also, I got to watch a really fascinating film called I.S.S. which I will write to you all about.

Alright, my loves,

I’m going to end here for now.

More soon, Xoxo.