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Jack O'Connell and Estanislao Contreras met for breakfast at Bertha's. The world's great unknown author ordered pozole while the poet of Chicano Fuck Songs remained faithful to his huevos rancheros.

Jack: What is the latest in your vacuous life?

Estanislao: It's Thanksgiving and the summer is finally behind us. I checked the temperature and it is going to be in the mid-seventies all week. I grow so tired of that searing summer sun.

Jack: What are you going to do for Thanksgiving?

Estanislao: Dr. Tony Zavaleta invited me to his house for dinner. I bring a bottle of wine and vegetate over the traditional meal. And you?

Jack: Since the break-up of my family several years ago and my children grown and dispersed throughout the country, I skip most holidays. It will be another day.

Estanislao: You're not one of those lost souls who gets emotional and suicidal during these festive times remembering your joyful upbringing and dealing with your present reality, are you, bro?

Jack: It's neither here nor there. My biggest concern is greeting each morning in the best of health. Then I float through the rest of the day like a ghost. I dedicate myself to feeling good and keeping my mind empty.

Estanislao: How does an empty mind create literature?

Jack: An empty mind and an empty screen are like two negatives producing a positive. You become a jazz musician and let it flow. You delve into your subconscious and the ideas and scenarios take shape on their own. And you? What's cooking today for Brownsville's most eligible bachelor?

Estanislao: After this breakfast digests, I'll go to the gym, sit in the sauna, swim laps and then relax in the jacuzzi. It's a bitch trying to get young and handsome again.

Jack: And it's a bitch when the bitches look right through you.

Estanislao: When I look at myself in the mirror, I can understand the reasons. How did we get old so fast?

Jack: We didn't die. 

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