one year later
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Went to, worked in Turkey. Heard packs of stray dogs rumbling at midnight, got chased by albino peacocks, swam in the Aegean with F-16s screaming overheard towards Greece, and got mugged by street children in cemeteries. Got paid fake f-ing money, left.
Lived in a 15' travel trailer for free, in exchange for doing construction work on the house of a crazy man. There was a 30' pile of dirt in front of his front door, overgrown with eight years of weeds. He'd transformed the staircase into a rock climbing wall. He was getting a custom chamberpot made for his chimney, of a fairy masturbating. He was (and I with him) retrofitting the whole side of his house into the largest mudflap in the history of the world: a 30' by 20' copper and stainless steel oval with the silhouette of a naked woman. And he wanted to turn his driveway into a yellowbrick road, with individually crafted bricks spiraling outward like Oz, and threw a fit when a brick company didn't make 'my goddamn yellow bricks.'
Visited the sex-change capital of the world, and sat with my brother by my father's bedside while film crews bobbed in and out of our lives. Walked the streets of a town comprised by as many cowboys as trannies, and had dinner conversations with the bassist for Bad Company about FBI whistleblowers, wooden boats, and multimedia. We'll be on Channel 4 (UK) in May.
I vanished into the viscous whirlpool that was my first serious relationship. She’s a priceless, beautiful girl, who my grandmother thought was Lithuanian but strangers think is Cajun. She’s a hardscrabble carbomb of piss, vinegar and grey matter. She once drank a one-eyed, 300-lb. neo-nazi named Bronx under the table. She was twelve years old, the drink was whisky, and she was dragged away from his unconscious body screaming, ‘I want his fucking eye.’ She’s adorable. She loves the 1920s, deformed kittens, and pinstripes.
Lived above the best sex store in the world, riding bikes downhill and dancing until 2am on a regular basis. Drank vodka on New Years watching hipsters and gangstas alike bond over a mutual love of jumprope and Roman candles. Learned to sort spiders, fix computers, and make media appearances. Found myself surrounded by plastinated corpses as a beautiful day job, and spent a whole day scouring downtown for the crazy crankhead who nicked a kidney. Asked members of the public, with all due honesty, whether they would like to touch a brain. Most did.
I've spent the last month at sea, scrutinizing zooplankton and ogling baby squids, watching dolphins duke it out off the port side and hearing my first sonic boom ten miles overhead. And this weekend in my favorite suit and tie in an illegal speakeasy with burlesque, absinthe and goodbyes.
And now, I move on.
Went to, worked in Turkey. Heard packs of stray dogs rumbling at midnight, got chased by albino peacocks, swam in the Aegean with F-16s screaming overheard towards Greece, and got mugged by street children in cemeteries. Got paid fake f-ing money, left.
Lived in a 15' travel trailer for free, in exchange for doing construction work on the house of a crazy man. There was a 30' pile of dirt in front of his front door, overgrown with eight years of weeds. He'd transformed the staircase into a rock climbing wall. He was getting a custom chamberpot made for his chimney, of a fairy masturbating. He was (and I with him) retrofitting the whole side of his house into the largest mudflap in the history of the world: a 30' by 20' copper and stainless steel oval with the silhouette of a naked woman. And he wanted to turn his driveway into a yellowbrick road, with individually crafted bricks spiraling outward like Oz, and threw a fit when a brick company didn't make 'my goddamn yellow bricks.'
Visited the sex-change capital of the world, and sat with my brother by my father's bedside while film crews bobbed in and out of our lives. Walked the streets of a town comprised by as many cowboys as trannies, and had dinner conversations with the bassist for Bad Company about FBI whistleblowers, wooden boats, and multimedia. We'll be on Channel 4 (UK) in May.
I vanished into the viscous whirlpool that was my first serious relationship. She’s a priceless, beautiful girl, who my grandmother thought was Lithuanian but strangers think is Cajun. She’s a hardscrabble carbomb of piss, vinegar and grey matter. She once drank a one-eyed, 300-lb. neo-nazi named Bronx under the table. She was twelve years old, the drink was whisky, and she was dragged away from his unconscious body screaming, ‘I want his fucking eye.’ She’s adorable. She loves the 1920s, deformed kittens, and pinstripes.
Lived above the best sex store in the world, riding bikes downhill and dancing until 2am on a regular basis. Drank vodka on New Years watching hipsters and gangstas alike bond over a mutual love of jumprope and Roman candles. Learned to sort spiders, fix computers, and make media appearances. Found myself surrounded by plastinated corpses as a beautiful day job, and spent a whole day scouring downtown for the crazy crankhead who nicked a kidney. Asked members of the public, with all due honesty, whether they would like to touch a brain. Most did.
I've spent the last month at sea, scrutinizing zooplankton and ogling baby squids, watching dolphins duke it out off the port side and hearing my first sonic boom ten miles overhead. And this weekend in my favorite suit and tie in an illegal speakeasy with burlesque, absinthe and goodbyes.
And now, I move on.