I'm not sure of what I wanna say, since there's so much shit going on that I haven't vented. I don't think much of it matters, except for what I have to do today. Duty calls.

Yup, funeral arrangements. My dad's best friend and roommate for the past five or so years passed away this Saturday. My sister was thrilled.

No, no, not like that. She really loved the guy. It's just that my dad's had three best friends, with G�ero, now they're all dead. I know I've mentioned the other two here, in the past years and entries. Me�o helped paint the house when we moved in, he died of a cocaine overdose two years back, and Pablo passed away not long after. Both times, Dud wasn't able to be here, and she cared about both men almost as much as my dad and me. To be honest, I had more of a special bond with Me�o, she with Pablo. He was a veteran, see, as I'm sure I've also mentioned. I mean, it's hard not to mention those guys. They were a big part of my father's life, and therefore a huge part of mine.

And now, el G�ero. As with all of 'Apa's buddies, that is an alias. His real name was Octavio. Until Saturday, I barely came to realize his last name was Garza, and that he had a middle name. Shit, I'd almost forgotten he'd had a first name at all.

Well, Dud is satisfied, I must make a point to clarify, because she can finally be there for our dad. No longer is she stuck somewhere overseas because of the military or some fuckin' war. Now she's here. She's home, she's here for him. For 'Apa. But she still doesn't know how to handle it too well, she's a rookie at this.

Of all three men mentioned here, G�ero was probably my father's most loyal friend. He was a poor dead-beat drunk guy who was going blind and probably slept too much, but hell, he was (and still is) family. I think he loved us the most of all my dad's friends. And now that he's gone, this hole in my gut just won't go away!

I think the only thing holding me together now is the fact that I have to make the funeral arrangements so 'Apa won't have to. G�ero's family wants nothing to do with it. He has a sister in Mission, the town next over, and my dad's already called to let her know. Bitch said she didn't give a shit what happened to him, didn't care what we did with the body. And hell, we're fuckin' poor. Barely moving over to middle class, but we're still just getting by. How the fuck are we supposed to afford a funeral?! Anyone out there have any idea how fuckin' expensive those things are? Well, start checking. This is one thing you don't wanna let your family have to figure out by themselves when your ass is no longer here. (Who that was dierected towards, I don't know. I don't care, come to think of it.)

Anyhow, the cops said it was going to have to be a county funeral. I don't know about elsewhere, but out here in this bordertown wasteland, we do things, "a la Mexican". Dig a hole somewhere (more than likely the cementary in San Juan - the cheapest there is!), then dump in the naked body, wrapped in a sheet. No clothes, no coffin, and definately NO FLOWERS. Loada crock. If I had the money, I'd say "fuck it" and waste it all on this man. But I don't have the money, and so I've been calling different places all weekend trying to get a decent burial for this man, this old, old decrepit drunken dead man. For my G�erito.

Turns out it would be a lot cheaper to have him cremated. 'Apa said it was fine, and 'Ama thought it was a good idea too. Said she wouldn't mind keeping the ashes, that way he'd be close, and we wouldn't have to go all the way to the cemetary to see him. Maybe we could even arrange a mass with the ashes present or something. I still haven't gotten that far ahead into the planning. Still, I'd better hurry my ass up before the body decomposes. And I ain't talkin' 'bout his, dawg. I just feel rotten inside, is all. How can I not cry? Even when I'm alone, I can't cry. Haven't been able to, y'know? It's just... shitty.