Grateful Soy Burgers

George Bresnahan is using a white hat these days. He no longer lives in Guanajuato, but he came into town to buy me a soy burger. I have myself to blame that we missed our hike last week. I had sent him two wrong phone numbers.

George was the first person to read drafts of Grateful Deceivers, or rather, listen to me read them from the spiral notebooks I filled while saturating myself with caffeine at Café Dada. I remember sitting with George at a table beside the Juarez Opera House, sunlight passing through our bottles of Corona. He shook his head at one point saying,¨"I don't know, Garrett. You and I have different styles of writing." You see, I was reading Poe at that point, and it was making the protagonist speak with elegant Victorian constructions instead of the jargon of a drunken beach drifter.