Ecclesiastes, Football and Life

I am tired. I stylistically chose to write with what you would call naughty words, not because I use them all that often in my day-to-day life, but because if I am to aspire to be as Hunter or Burroughs, then the foul language is part of the style, as well as the foul thoughts. I think those are important because they reveal honesty, but I do tend to make them fouler when in this style of writing.

Right now I am tired, and I will try another approach.

I come from Polanco, where I met four English adolescents that came from London, they didn’t look rich. Not at all, but they were here in CDMX all the way from London. They hustled a joke here and there, pretending they had lived in Mexico City their whole lives. They were funny, and I enjoyed my short conversation with them.

The day started early with a gym and a sauna and then after that a work meeting. A very important work meeting. The World Cup took a break for this meeting, I was planning a visit to CAR where the Mexican team are located in Tlalpan, yet the meeting ran so long, around three to four hours of straight-up business talk with my dad as a lawyer and the accountant.

It was productive as heaven. We are beginning to build Julian Enterprises and we are thinking and working around a way to gain the money we need in the most efficient and cheap manner possible. This will be done by dividing profit shares and it’s the way which in and around we will be able to finance the marketing and printing of The Rapist book, The Woman with the Red Dress movie, and El Azul documentary.

It is all coming together, but I can and will never be able to see the future, my accountant friend is sorta Kinda an alcohol guy, but maybe not holic. I don’t know. He is good at his job and so is my father. I would say so am I, but most people call me egotistic, so I will just shut up about myself.

There are many strategies and plans that have been thought up and people that will be involved from the beginning to give the thing structure. It’s all coming together, yeah money is short right now and sometimes when I look at social media views I think I am fucked. Sorry, screwed. In trouble? I don’t know.

I don’t like social media, I wish and I hope there must be a way to make money in this business with minimal social media use. But yeah the social media views are short and so is the money, not the money that matters, what must be raised to create the enterprise is certain.

But me. Me. Me. I. I don’t have money right now because I am willing to bet on my future as an artist, and am sacrificing my time to achieve and work towards that goal.

I hate pride. I really do, it’s my worst sickness. But Goddamnit I think I have some talent. I think I have lived a little and I think I can tell good stories. I don’t think there’s anything else I could do, plain and simple.

Well in Polanco we got Bible class. I was written by the Aztec Stadium girl. She didn’t tell me outright but mentioned. She wants to go to a match. I like her. I really do. I offered sex, which I don’t really want to. I want to get married you know, soon.

It would be beautiful, I read the Song of Songs from the Bible. It’s a poem about love and sex, it’s beautiful and I wish that was somewhere near me. I don’t want empty sex however much I talk about asses, blondes, boobs and brunettes.

I am a simple man. I want to be loved. Not for Aztec stadium seats, not for the coming fame, not for money, not for status. For me. It sounds so simple but my experience with heartbreak has been so pathetically sad that the only spiritual emotional romance I have ever received from women was at some sort of interest.

When I had the multiple lovers, it was all about the status, it’s been about the money, but it has never been about love. Maybe Anelisse for a few months there back when I was seven. So far gone, yet so true. Although I don’t think she remembers that I still feel it. Maybe it wasn’t real, maybe I am confused.

Tomorrow it’s back to the World Cup and back to the Gonzo. Shit fuck, tits……

I don’t have it in me right now anymore, I am hungry because I don’t want my parents’ money, and it’s late in Pedregal, walking alone the streets, dressed nicely but walking beaten.

The Bible is beautiful. It truly is beautiful. People hate on it and talk about it but just won’t read it. They just won’t read it. It’s the soul. It’s broken, and sinful and selfish and prideful, too prideful to read the Bible. That was Satan’s first sin. Pride.

Tomorrow I will dedicate the whole day to the World Cup, lot of activities planned and ready to do, but tonight I’ll be hungry I’ll drink water I’ll dream a dream and I’ll feel ill as lil.

Fear and Loathing style DEMANDS bad vocabulary and living on edge. But I said I would find the book in the book and if that is not its path? What is my path?

The World Cup is an event of the World. The world which calls with all its strength towards men and women to keep them thinking about money, concerts and forgetting the heavenly things.

I am fucking tired and beaten and lost, but tomorrow I will be found and strong, or not, maybe not, what is the past worth if it is never here, except in memory guiding how I will behave towards the future.

Am I more animal, when I go to the dirt after death or angelic as my soul flies out.

There are a bunch of hustles. A bunch. All around for the World Cup and I will, I will find them and I will continue Fear and Loathing, which some of you read as articles which are more a hobby, this really is a second book, is it literature, or journalism, both Gonzo.

Or something more, I want to try more styles, but I just gotta get the first two books ahead, the first movie, the first documentary and the Rogan Interview.

I can. I will, It can, It will.

There is just a lot of hard, good honest work ahead, but hasn’t it always been that way? But why do I toil? For what.

I am just dust grasping wind thinking nothingness to achieve eventual death. Rich and Poor we all die.

It is all going to that place. The last moment.

We exist in space and time and we are always in one place in space and time. At this moment there are moments behind and ahead and the current flowing one. But one day, no matter what I do, how many I kill or how hard I pray, I will be there at the last moment, all behind and nothing ahead. Just the dark.

When that moment comes I hope to be at Peace with God. So that I can bravely close my eyes waiting to see beyond the dark.

No matter how much work I have put it will end that way, and what I create, my children will cherish and then their children, and I will be gone. Maybe in New Jerusalem watching from above, or with such heavenly concerns that I lose concept of this earthly terrain.

When I think about all that Fear and Loathing at the Mexico City World Cup doesn’t seem that important. But I will die tonight, and be resurrected in the morning, and will do this all over again. All over again.

The disposition is always positive from my part, food and my attitude towards the present are things I will always live with so I must enjoy them as I can.

But whether my bed is kingly, priestly, that of a whore or a poor man’s cardboard it will all end in death, and The Mexico World Cup will be decades ago, then centuries, then millennia and then forgotten in the sea of life and information that is collective human consciousness, and my vanity and my pride will be forgotten.

I am counting words. What for? Who reads? Yeah some read. More than people would think, and we comment, but we comment death because they will die and so will I, and then I’ll be on Rogan, and… folly let’s not talk about the future, but great or horrible things will happen? What for?

This all comes from the Bible. Ecclesiastes. A book in the Bible about the futility of life. God understands the human predicament, and the fear of death, and what that used to mean before Christ.

Am I being too goodie good Christian now? Do I get back to the Fear and Loathing?

I will tomorrow, and that’s one version of me, Julian del Leon, which I don’t intend to hide, actually I find productive to show, not to hide from the prickly cactus but to hug it, and there are days for it.

But tonight is a day for sleeping feeling worthless whilst worthwhile simultaneously and also instantaneously, maybe I am sick with something that we call youth.

Tomorrow: interviews, camera, places, players…..

No use making today’s writing about soccer. Although it is, it is about soccer.

I think the first thing I remember is soccer. As children that determined worth, intensely, everybody wanted me to give a shit about it, and know about it, and be good at it, but I just looked at my shoes in the bench and talked about books as I thought about Anelise.

It hurt, that season of life. But so have many others and those that don’t hurt, love and then comes pride and so comes hurt.

I tried being good at football and combined it with what I knew. I read as many football magazines as humanly possible, and I started watching matches. And I enjoyed it, but I was never good at it. Playing it I mean, Fifa, well Fifa neither, I mean the usual.

I remember waiting for FIFA 16 to be released for months obsessively thinking about the game which had become my life’s purpose. Without God, an edition of a football video game that doesn’t really change becomes ALL. IT IS THAT IT IS FIFA SIXTEEN.

But football is life in a way, it has been in this world always all around me since I opened my eyes. I was born World Cup 2002, the next World Cup my brother always talked fondly of, 2010 South Africa is clear in my mind, so clear in fact that I remember I decided I would tell time not by the years but by Fifa World Cups, we would get off class to watch the matches and as a child I watched in a big projector as rain poured in the Higlcler and Mexico scored against France.

We were assigned to make a dance based on The Waka Waka Shakira song, and that is the first time I really paid any attention to Anelisse, just watching her dance that kid dance and realizing there was nothing more beautiful in the whole wide world and The South Africa World Cup went south interest-wise for me. It was all Anelise.

Then Brazil 2014. I cried in the final when Argentina lost and lost a bet also, a small one. A little small bet. Messi seemed sad so I cried messy tears, somebody has to have already written that. I don’t think it’s original, it’s too obvious.

Lemme try something else.

Messi… Messi… Messientosolocomosuputamadre.

Brazil was humiliated in the international stage, at their most iconic stadium in front of the whole world. Humiliation is good. It’s not bad, it’s better than praise. Humiliation brings you to your knees and surprisingly below the legs is God.

Germany won and my German cousins celebrated with us. Whaat is reality and memory that it has been so wonderful interesting with me, in a way that a new story is found every so often and maybe those World Cup days in Valle de Bravo are as Valuable as…..

2018 Russia World Cup. I realized I was getting older, I watched that one in Europe with my parent and siblings. Liverpool, the first time we ever went before my brother studied there.

England won and passed to the next stage and the whole city went out and screamed and sang “It’s coming home” in their scouser accent.

We visited York and watched them lose the next match as a tall English man tried flirting with my mother. My dad got incredibly mad and stung with jealousy. It was a sad sight that. My mother flirting with the Englishman. They lost the match. And my dad won his.

We watched the final in a hotel’s small television.

Russia, is the country I am the most interested in visiting. Read War and Peace and you shall understand.

Qatar 2022 started when I was jailed in Savannah and I got the Mexico scores through JailMail. I watched that Final in Pennsylvania and saw Messi look up to God. Messi is touched by God. He simply is. He is a proof of the power of faith, the faith I needed then to beat the bullshit and the manipulative lies.

Just as a caveat club football has also always been a part of my life. Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi, they’re fight rhymes with my childhood. The NFL Seattle Seahawks taste like wintery nights in rainy Seattle with my big brother, my dad and some hot chocolate.

Formula One was there for a while, but whether I like it or not, whether for bullying as a child, magazines as a teenager and scores behind a cell football is the one sport and activity that doesn’t seem to disappear, so there must be a lesson there, a lesson I will search for in this book with just a little fear and loathing.

I still don’t know about my box seats, the family all want them, they have to be divided, and again, will talk more football tomorrow, and it will be a very football-oriented day.

Now it’s the 2026 World Cup. Mexico, USA and Canada. Three countries. The three countries on the side of the world I got appointed to spawn in.

I am getting excited about the matches and the reporting and although life is indeed futile until death when it becomes purpose forever, here in this world there are good things, good things we can enjoy, a kick of a ball, a score on a match, and a burn in the heart looking to see how it will all end and if Mexico will be, champion of the world.

And what can I say about this World Cup, more teams, more money, less money, worse teams. Three colours, a cool ball. Big stadiums, corrupt countries, good people, good players, money, status, events, world, home, cup, golden, green, eagle, pass, Edson Alvarez moves it across he almost loses it but swiftly gets it to Raul Jimenez in the last second, the very last second, of the very last match GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL DE MEXICOOOOOOOOO and adventure that started in Mexico City ends in New York as Raul Jimenez scores and the world turns green as Mexico finally wins.

Poor, rich, humble, good, corrupt and hard fought Mexico are Champions of the world, they raise the golden trophy and kiss it, as Messi before them, as Mbappe before them, as Müller before them, as Iniesta before them as Pirlo before them, as Roberto Carlos before them when little Julian was just being born and football was before, and then, and after.

P.S. for the non smarts I made a whole allegory about Football God and Life. Read again if you must.