I'll probably be spending tomorrow writing and mailing postcards.

Things that will be discussed through the post:

1) the weather, concepts of heat, humidity of my crotch
2) food, the food I miss, effects of various food on my crotch
3) friendliness of Turkish citizens, how this friendliness does not tend to extend to my crotch
4) aesthetics of trees n' flowers, crisis of public space in Istanbul, how I might trim crotch hair for the greater good
5) Turkish architecture, video games, ways in which my penis may be used as a board on which planitarium style laser shows are presented in order to delight families

See, the stuff before the first comma is for basic strangers like my extended family.  The stuff before the second comma is for my friends.  And the last group of topics is for anyone I've had an embarrassing/uncomfortable sexual relationships with in the past.  I like to keep my ex's on their collective toes.

Want to figure out what category you're in?  Send me your address!  Unless it proves horribly expensive to mail everything.  Or I get too bored to finish.

Really, as long as the readers of this blog are forced to contemplate what philosophies lie behind my pubic hair maintenance, I'll be happy.

It was night, the only night we'd had without rain since first week. I swayed backwards slowly on my way down the steep footpath which led to the pavilion. Very slowly falling, Jamie skidded down behind me, just as fucked, he pushed a shoulder and arm between my shoulderblades, levering my body back into the air. My face hit a wet pine branch. It looked black and white now, hours after dusk.

“I think there was too much in that canteen!” I shouted, every word was distinct, like my brothers' voice; I could feel Jamie controlling his own fall behind me.

“It wasn't more than five between the three of us – did you smoke?”

I couldn't quite feel my feet against the mud and rock trail. Where was that root? Every damn branch hit us on our way down – we were close enough to see the lighted pavilion ahead, and the pine cones danced across my eyes like winged ants. There was a jutting rock, looked like a seashell, and my foot sliced against it. I couldn't stop now, not on the slope.

“I don't smoke for a few hours before I take Special.”

I yowled like a cat. “Theeeese aaaare fur aneemals...”

Jamie neighed.

A long branch-stripped pine sapling lay against the mud walls around our trail. I smelt Georgia, May 15^th, 9 days of water, old smoke, bleach, and June bugs fusing themselves to camp lanterns. The steady lights waved under pavilion roof in front of us.

“1 2 3 4 4 4” said Jamie. He threw a beer at me and I fell into the mud after it.

It felt like Double Dare all over again. “Fucking fuck.” I remember watching Nickelodeon on a Saturday for the first time. A year before, that, my parents had caved and bought airconditioning. I found the beer. Was that my blood? “Only four? Did they already set the mats up? We need more lanterns – is this Natty Light?” Good drugs. I threw the beer at Jamie and I could have walked the four feet and caught it in midair, that beer moved so slow, like a comet.

EDIT:  This is "episode 2" of this.  Neither of them are finished, though the Ambulance Story is close-ish.

I really want to try giving myself a tattoo.

All I need are a few needles, water, and a jar of ink.

Awesome.

I suppose, one's first attempt at self-tattooing should not be a copy of Picasso's Guernica across one's penis.

But c'mon!  GUERNICA!



How can you resist tattooing that on at least ONE body part?  Maybe I could just do the horse on my shoulder.

EDIT:  Almost forgot:



[I'd hide these behind a cut... but I care too much about your education.]

I keep kicking myself when I realize what level my sobriety's at.

I mean, good god man!  You could be drunk right now!

A good point you have there mister brain.  But the likker store's 3 blocks away, and I am naked.  Does benefit to be obtained from whiskey exceed effort to obtain said elixir?

Not right now.  But tomorrow!  Yes, tomorrow, after work, on the way home!  You will stop at a fancy boozery, and obtain whiskey from the TOP OF THE SHELF!

Yes Brain, yes.  Whiskey will make the job go away.