this is the perfect place to get jumped

Month: March, 2014

terse puerto rico report

because i bemoan the endless new york winter and feel the need to distance myself from a reality of exhaustive relaxation, i decided (with whimsy) to travel to puerto rico, which turns out to be a tropical archipelago and unincorporated territory of the u.s as well as one of the top ranked games on boardgamegeek.com.

my traveling partners were dada and fallon. our lodging hookup came from dada and fallon’s new york friend and aquadilla native francheska, who, looooong stories short, introduced them to waco, (current resident of aguadilla and in-house dj at coco loco) who served as our tour guide and chauffeur with his handle-less, rum strewn mini van.

we rented a room in a building that housed an extended family on the top floor and a pizza place in its repurposed garage. in the five days that we stayed in aguadilla we witnessed the creation and purchase of only a single pizza, served to us on our first night. the pizza place was closed on each remaining day and night, leading me to believe that the pizza we shared was a theatre piece.

when we reached the beach dada and fallon bought weed from a taciturn, tan hunk with a man bun named memo.

we became beach drunk on glassy puerto rican rum mixed with artificially sweetened passion fruit juice as well as the national beer (and much too light) Medalla.

waco drove us to another beach with a fresh water swell. fallon and i allowed ourselves to be pulled into the ocean as dada collected seashells and started a pickup volley with some beach volleyball kids. a big boobed american woman offered me her snorkel so i could see all of the wildlife and coral beneath the water. fallon scratched her back on some coral as she was swept up by the swell. dada’s forearms became bruised by the volleyball.

the yoked horse living in the school bus strewn field behind the pizza place grew tumescent as dada approached him, his pink and brown cock hornily slapping against his belly.

my new zoom lens provided me with a safe distance for ass shots of the beach’s claimed women.

dada received a triangular gash on her thigh as we drunkenly traversed the brittle moon rocks. it eventually turned white.

i saw an iguana’s face splattered across the pavement.

we took underwater photos with fallon’s GoPro. Dada began conversation with the fat man from the beach when we resurfaced from the underwater photo shoot. his voice came from a collar wrapped around his throat.

i packed lube instead of contact lens solution and requested a ride to the grocery store from a drunken medical student named eddie who smartly rebut requested beers for his valiant service. after he finished his rum and coke and ordered another for the road he became lost looking for his car, then required me to be his “co-pilot” and keep my eyes out for the police as we drove down the curvy rural roads. when we returned to the beach eddie blamed me for abandoning his drunken friend on the beach and expressed misguided enmity at my additional purchase of crackers while at the grocery store, calling them “bullshit corn flakes.”

fallon ate a wave and lost her GoPro; it was the most devastating loss of the entire trip.

waco sparked a bonfire of dry palm leaves. dada, fallon and i drooled over the sexiness of the flames and posed for an impromptu photo shoot on a drunken man’s abandoned hog while the fire soared behind us. naturally our voracious, goofy behavior drew a crowd. we befriended off-duty cop harry and ex-shrink kathy, who drove us to an outdoor patio for salsa, meringue, and tango i think. we drank and danced until the music ended, bumming countless cigarettes from kathy. eventually we landed at a spanish language karaoke bar, where dada performed lady gaga’s bad romance to a speechless crowd.

on her morning run dada discovered a litter of beach puppies beneath the deck of memo’s defunct night club. we named the one that looked like a little bear little bear. we thought about them constantly.

waco drove us to a waterfall as we drank rum in his van. we met memo, charlie, and a tall, gaunt, professional surfer with gray skin, black eyes and waist length hair, who’s wacky and loquacious body language reminded me of seinfeld’s kramer. charlie leaped from the top of the falls and tore his nipple ring on impact with the water. memo also jumped from the falls. everyone clapped. i wanted to jump too. dada chided me and fallon goaded me. memo gave me advice on how best to leap forward. the rock was smooth and slippery, and i was sloppy and drunk, but i summoned the courage despite my petrified demeanor and jumped.

the bearded man in the waterfall parking lot took an immediate liking to dada. he jumped in the water with his clothes on to prove his spontaneity and declare his love for her. he took fallon, dada and i into a secret cave beneath the water fall. he then he made a hat for dada from palm leaves. as the sun began to set he began sparking a bonfire to keep us warm, but we told him we wanted to leave so he threw his log into the woods.

memo took us on a hike through a secluded surf trail where i saw a rock that looked like a nose.

we stayed up all night awaiting our flight, drinking in the shop express parking lot with waco, memo, charlie, charlie’s girl, alvin’s brother, and sober eddie, who was much more to my liking. dada listened to memo’s mixtape with him alone in his car. fallon had an extensive conversation with charlie’s girlfriend about teaching english and environmental issues. charlie told me about his friend, a “fisherman” named scott with a giant gold chain who went to cuba to pick up some “fish” and became lost at sea.

eddie could have scored me some puerto rican cocaine at 2am, promising its arrival within fifteen minutes. i was very tempted, but concluded that snorting a gram of cocaine within an hour of my flight wasn’t responsible; neither was attempting to board with any leftovers. i promised my new friend eddie that we would do many drugs together “next time.”after waco dropped us at the airport he suggested we continue drinking in the parking lot. but instead we thanked him for a wonderful time and moped at the gate about our return to icy, gray new york.

finds included:

-$3.50 in change buried in the sand,

-a cute floral print miniskirt that belonged to a sunbathing woman who politely sought its return after realizing her mistake of leaving it on a pile of dry palm leaves after i already laid claim and given it to dada as a gift

-a shirt and towel on the airport dumpster during my first moments on puerto rican soil

i managed pretty well considering aguadilla’s unremarkable garbage scene.

returning with scaly shoulders, the cobalt venom of sea urchin punctures in my palms, and a scabby patch of lower back that continues to eat through my healthy flesh, im finna take a day trip to pyongyang in the emotional dead of their hell winter for my next itinerary to offer my readership an effortless contrast. imprisonment is only a state of mind.

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what i remember

i knew a girl with the ability to eloquently recall every detail from her bizarre dreams. i do my best when recalling my own bizarre dreams, but there are so many details lost within the chaotic transitions that i often only recall the very last course of action.

on a mission

Surrounding the bloody chain that hung from the warehouse’s lofty ceiling was a nervous, quiet crowd. I stripped in front of them and began to climb the swing despite slipping on it’s mysterious blood. Once my grip was maintained I kicked my feet to swing back and forth. In this process I kicked someone’s face with my bloody foot before breaching the physics of the pendulum and swinging the entire length of the warehouse, staring up towards its black ceiling of tiny glowing specks. The curator didn’t approve: “Look, you’ve done this already, don’t you remember?” I interpreted her words to mean, “You’re a jackass. Go to the zoo.”

I ran naked through the zoo’s forest trails and pushed a block of cheese down a milky stream of jungle foam using only my toes. I surfed on jungle cheese in the stream running beside the zoo’s bus tour route, waving to zoo patrons and new zoo friends that smiled and waved back. The sky was “gypsy gray with metal makeup.” People adored my naked antics. I never stopped moving, never wanted to stop moving, and never felt tired. The zoo was my new calling and there was a rope made from apes in the empty lab.

Finally out of breath, I relaxed naked and covered in loamy dirt with some new zoo friends on the patio behind the llama cages. The patio was surrounded by a twelve foot fence, behind which was a verdant thicket of jungle brush. I was drinking beer and being my fun loving self amongst my new zoo friends when a disrespectful bald man wearing an unbuttoned denim jacket and reminiscent of Vaughn from David Cronenberg’s 1996 film Crash pushed me into the patio’s corner. As I threw my hands up to signal peace he took his pants off and spit in my face; the definitive signal for war. I am no longer my fun loving self as I pick his pants from the patio floor and tear them at the crotch. The rude bald man spits again and it lands on my cheek. I toss his pants over the wall but he is unconcerned until he notices that I am holding his phone, which fell from his pocket as I tossed his pants.

Suddenly and unsurprisingly he wants to reconcile. I hold his phone flimsily and, letting my wrist limp, bop his bald head with it. He flinches, cowers and drops his beer. I smack his face again and again with a flick of my wrist until he turns fetal with his eyes shut tightly. A window of a profile for a furries social networking website opens on his phone for each smack the bald man receives. When I notice I stop slapping him to advise my new zoo friends to investigate this furry social network, saying, “if it’s not cool kill him.”

RSVP

invitation

i have worn windbreakers, sneakers, sweaters and purses that i’ve found on the street. i have smoked drugs, eaten pizza, and drank beers that I found on the street. i have spent money, played with toys, and slept on couches that i have found on the street. (mattresses are ALWAYS a no no.) today i found an open envelope with a wedding invitation inside and RSVP’d without hesitation, officially taking my street game to new heights.

like my credit card, this wedding invitation was lost by the USPS, having found it a few blocks from its desired destination. connect the dots and justify my actions: i’ll fraudulently attend nichol and josh’s wedding to avenge my credit card’s fraudulent charges because sometimes life makes perfect sense and is really fair.

Closer to Death

At the Academy Awards after party in 2001, Sean William Scott was celebrating his win for Best Supporting Actor for his role as Stifler in American Pie 2. (I didn’t recognize him with a moustache and polo shirt.) Mike Cashman’s bowl cut bobbed behind the catering table where he taunted me and hid his Arid Mesas in a white cardboard box of full art squirrel tokens. While he paced the room with an appetizer plate I dove beneath the table and sifted through the cards, becoming entangled in a warm, satin drape, hampering my movement.

The dark room had one staircase and a thirty foot window overlooking a prehistoric lake stretching for miles in each direction, with a bluff at the lake’s far edge. The serenity of the lake was disturbed when the bluff collapsed into it, creating a tidal wave that queued everyone in the room to begin screaming. I casually shrugged it off until the wave reached the window and burst through it, quickly filling the room. I stared at my ankles as the lake licked them. I panicked for a moment when I realized there was no way out: the stairs wouldn’t reach high ground in time, and was nonetheless clogged by a slow moving crowd in thick trench coats, which appeared to me like a slow moving rug.

It took me one moment to accept death. I wasn’t stoked, but I became calm. I walked to the window slowly, my mind strangely absent of thoughts like the inevitable agony of drowning, and never seeing my loved ones again. I stood by the window and watched the water pouring through it as the shrill cries of fear from those around me became stifled and hollow while the room became a fish tank. I followed a few brave souls and swam to the surface through the shattered window, my stomach grazing over its shards, leaving long, red streaks.

The sun was bright on the surface of the lake as I tread water beside a wall of idle tribal masks made of chipped, dusty ivory, each resembling a wild boar. I swam towards them to rest and regain my energy when they rose in anger and attacked me. They hastily swam in confused fury from the bluff they were guarding, followed by their twelve foot dreads. I dodged them, admiring their smooth, feminine legs gracefully kicking and splashing my cheeks.

Letter to God

ceiling

“…think maybe my philosophy is better than the new jesus philosophy, it’s a very simple philosophy, but i’m pretty sure it’s better than the other ones too, cus i think it’s something everyone really wants, which is to get their pussies sucked and their dicks licked, especially better than the jesus one which was all only about just sucking jesus dick and licking jesus pussy cus, you know, i know he had both, he was the messiah or whatever, he came with both, and he wanted everyone to get licked and sucked, not just his, he was the prophet for a reason, and now today everyone forgets he wanted everyone’s pussies/dicks to get licked/ sucked by all everyone often not just his, he was admired cus he had both pieces, a real piece of magic and a true shred of heaven, so we can all do our best to lick and suck as many as we can cus that is the gift, forgetful people the prophets, all of them, Muhammed, even the prophet Mark, they all had both, they all say the same, get a taste as soon as possible, but i don’t agree/like this new interpretation of the prophet mythologies cus haters lose sight of equality…that everyone it makes no difference if they have got three pussies or half a pussy or a teeny dick or a dick inside a pussy, there is love out there and someone loves you to want to lick/suck whatever you got underneath, we just need to lick the ones we care about…that’s my philosophy, God, i know you approve, i know you know i have “writer’s block” and i have to use my camera and talk myself through it, and that you agree that everyone deserves to get their dicks licked and their pussies sucked, and why everyone, me included, we do and make and contribute so we can feel this love in our pussies from dicks that we want to be loved by and that is why everyone does stuff, and God looks down at us and hopes we will all be loved by each other like he loves all of us, and he gave us all dicks and pussies different sizes and flavors because God is an artist and a creative being, he gave us a reason for life, to experience love is unique, he has endless blueprints, and remembers that emotional pain only lasts twenty minutes, everything more is self inflicted, so just remember that gifts come in many packages, and i do this because now i believe in you, this wasn’t meant to be for you, God wants a dick and a pussy but can’t have a body, so he gave the bodies to the prophets and us too, and God, made me feel better about all the love.

floor

i know that i feel better, that God has inspired me to love all dicks and pussies and eggs, not be afraid of loving everyone, and you believe in me, i believe in you, and we are all children of God, even children that refuse to believe in love, that’s really important, that even though i am alone right now, i’m not, actually, because you are here. There might be an alligator behind me, or another zombie, maybe Mark, he is here too, but we are here together. I feel fulfillment now. Thanks.”