Creative Nonfiction: The Stars Are Dead (in San José)

By Kevin Johnson Murillo

 

I once drove to San José on Costa Rica’s National Route 27; I can’t remember what my purpose was/where I was going specifically, but I listened to the entirety of Cold World’s “The Stars Are Dead Now” (33:30).

DSBM = Depressive Suicidal Black Metal. I haven’t been truly D (much less S) in plenty of years now, but I have been melancholy/morose/hateful. More importantly, I enjoy this kind of lethargic, atmospheric metal music[ even on my best days. That day wasn’t one of them].

The car and I floated in the leaden ether as I cruised through dimly lit stretches accentuated by billboards advertising the stupidest, most unimportant products. I felt exalted in the recognition (amplified × 8 by the music) of how pointless so much of this modern world “we built” was; but in my misanthropic, detached gaze (in which I was also an insect) it all seemed so beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

Kevin Johnson Murillo is a Spanish philologist and translator allegedly existing in Costa Rica's GAM. His short, ugly stories have appeared in ExPat Press, EgoPHobia, and SCAB, among others. Instagram: @kevin.johnson.murillo