Hello, blog. It has been awhile since I've entered your impressionable vulva with my figurative pen. What matters more? The author's thought or the reader's interpretation? A hermeneutical question for Ricoeur, not completely without a doubt. Either way, there is an initial awkward stage in the re-acquaintance between my mind/"pen" and your hearts/vulva. A traditional Brazilian icebreaker will suffice.
What football team do you like?
No, no. Not good enough. How about a joke to ease myself back into you, a joke that will segue nicely into the tales of our week apart.
I learned a lot at the beach last weekend. Aside from things that not even the growing circulation of my pen and its thrusts could allow me to disclose, words came to light. The only thing I heard more than "quemado" (referring to the bright vermilion of my shoulders) was "tranquilo"--and you can only infer what that means.
(case in point)
By the way, I am talking to YOU now.
Its only a joke if its funny though, right? Well then.
The beach. What is there to say? It was a beautiful beach. Physically absolutely stunning.
And the vibe. Oh that beach vibe. Let's just say this: it ain't no Sao Paulo folks. Why elaborate on details? We did what people do on the beach. We tanned. We swam. We walked on rocks. We had BBQs. We hung out with people. We played music. We languished in tranquility. Mostly, anyway. I refer to a pall of misery for everyone involved that need not nor could not be reckoned with on such an interface. (if you think this refers to you it might)
I would like to call one event in particular to the attention of the people. They call it "Luau." As they say, when in Brazil, do as the Hawaiians do.
Man, the city is harsh. It is like a tundra. A tundra with millions of discombobulated buses. I have resumed my smokestack status--reading about Jerry gives me chills, but then again, I am not a genius rockstar junkie either--(well, the beach environment caused me to pick it up again...or no, being in the subway station just thinking about getting to the beach was really my bane...) it just feels so goddamned fitting in the midst of this squalor. Like I can add to the filth of the environment by emitting fumes of my own, and assimilate better by fumigating my own self (though this type of fumigation does not kill roaches. It kills bronchi and relaxes minds. And makes one look cool, but we all knew that). Of course I could relish in being the only clean thing in this tangle of asphalt and steel. A beaming beacon emanating light. Nah.
You know, I love traveling. I really do. I like to see myself as this prolific Sagittarian travl'r. But you know what, folks? I really love home as well. Being settled.
I am not making the most of my experience here. I get up, go to class, do stuff on the internet, go home. I am having a good time doing this thing. I am playing so much music. Reading so much. Writing so much. I generally don't want to go out and explore the city. Go to a club, bar? Nah. Walk around? Eh. But you know what--this is me being an isolationist. Yeah, I am in a healthy routine. But I am going to go out of my way to be here in Brazil. (if you think this refers to you it don't)
I feel like I am in limbo. Sao Paulo is cool for a little while. But it suffocates me. Sao Paulo esta me atrapalhando. A perfect word for it in Portuguese--I can't really think of a good translation in English. Even these suggestions from Google Translate do not really get the sentiment:
- disturb
- confuse
- muddle
- embarrass
- obscure
- rattle
- perplex
- flurry
- puzzle
- mix up
- abash
- nonplus
- discountenance
I am doing well in many ways--growing, learning, and just simply having a great time. But in some ways, I am torn up, devastated--who I am sometimes makes butter out of my inside (through churning, ne?). I was talking with a good friend about being out of step with the world. I think it is my destiny. I brush my teeth on the bus, put my cigarette butts in my pocket, and eat fruit off the ground. It is normal that these abnormalities, among other things, might cause some torture.
But hey. Life is only good if life is tough. And people, life is both. I am happy and sad and many things more. This is positive knowledge people.
For me? Yes, friends, time to do what I do every day. Smoke a butt, listen to the Grateful Dead, and walk to my bus stop. I have Brazil to behold. So behold it. And relish in its minced pickle finery.
And so after an extremely long ejaculation, your vulva with its soothing heartbeat curls around my resting and satiated pen. The mind continues to gurgle and spew, and there the matter rests.
No comments:
Post a Comment