Stannous Flouride's Book of Truthiness

In 1967, when I was a freshman in high school my art teacher told me that though my drawing was good and showed creativity, if I wanted to be an ‘Artist’ I needed to use my art to express more of myself.
I didn’t understand. When I thought of something I wanted to express I just figured out an image and created it. It was usually political in those days (sometimes psychedelic). But it wasn’t personal, really. She gave me a biography of Frida and it changed my life.
Twice today in the house where she was born, lived, suffered, became an artist, loved her Diego, and finally died, I was moved to tears. But I laughed too.
And was inspired.
And had a wonderful, wonderful day.

I passed this intriguing looking park a few times on buses and in cars before detouring to check it out on foot.
Created in about 1945 it celebrates the nations of the Western Hemisphere with wonderful Mayanesque architecture.
The USA gets slightly short changed. While they manage to fit ‘Trinidad and Tobago’ on one stele, we are reduced to ‘EE UU de NA’
Granted, this was the Estados Unidos de Mexico at the time I can’t help but feel it was an intentional slight. They also gave one to Puerto Rico, btw.

I’m glad I didn’t completely understand the menu description or I might not have ordered the shrimp wrapped in marinated marlin and then wrapped in bacon.
But I was raised to eat what was put in front of me, no matter how sinfully delicious it is.

If I had had a choice the would have been my LAST choice.
They celebrate 20 years of fucking NAFTA

Getting the recognition I deserve!

I fell in love with a Mexican gal…

Having café Americano on a balcony overlooking the intersection of Hamburg Strasse and Via Firenze in my temporary neighborhood, la Zona Rosa