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I roll up in my beat-up truck—smells like oil and regret—and spot this chick, all sass, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Hey, darlin’, what’s the deal?” I rasp, tryin’ not to sound like a total creep. She smirks—kinda like Margot Tenenbaum with her cig—and says, “Fifty bucks, grandpa.” Fifty?! I choke—“That’s half my rent!”—but she don’t care. She’s got that “I’m adopted” vibe, y’know, from the movie? Tough as nails, but somethin’ sad underneath.

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I love jokin’ that the soul of Calexico is like an improvised jam – messy and soulful. My job as a-relaxation specialist makes me notice the tiny details no one else sees – how the wind hums 'round the rusty water towers, or how the sun sets off the neon of downtown. Hey, sometimes I type away and misspell, ya know? like "amazingg," "awsm," "chillaz" – all in half a mind, but that’s the vibe. Life ain't perfect, ya feel?

Public Concerns, Calls for Openness at Lithium Valley Workshop