Tag Archives: flying

Jamaica

~ 0 ~
SFO in the early morning
MtVC
sleep
triple couple brunch date
SFO in the afternoon
work
packing
eating
yellow fever film
SFO late at night
Japanese, Mexican, American, or Chinese?

~ 1 ~
Hank Williams on the
turbulent red-eye
flashlights in the early morning
United Club at IAD
hella babies on the
flight to Jamaica
the first Jamaican woman to speak to/about me:
“it’s not fair. he’s not even using it,”
referencing my hair
all customs agents are the same stern
accosted by taxi drivers
one is hella chill so we go w him ($15)
he walks slow as hell
“we grow up w weed”
tried to sell me some but his guy is out
Caribic House
gentleman clerk
third floor balcony view of the sea
buy weed from souvenir shop ($20 for crap)
Pork Pit
buy weed from random vagrant (J$200 for crap)

~ 2 ~
breakfast at the Mocha Cafe
Knutsford Express to Negril
buy Blue Cheese from taxi driver ($5 for quality)
Yoga Centre
stroll and smoke along the beach
the German dude
yoga in the evening
shower and drinks
Alfred’s Ocean Palace
couple drinks and cricket at the Sunrise

~ 3 ~
smoothies and breakfast at the YC
chillin on the beach
spring rolls and papaya salad
Natalie naps / Americanah
drinks at One Love bar
curried conch w rice & peas at sweet spot

~ 4 ~
goodbye YC & Negril
KE to Kingston
wild winding ride east
the big city
the Spanish Court,
free rum punch on arrival
walking in the rain to
Devon House
coffee for her, coffee i-scream for me
walking in the lightening rain
Natalie goes chic in the city
divine Indian at Nirvanna

~ 5 ~
free breakfast: eggs, platanos, festival, bacon, fruit, coffee, water
taxi drive with a former yam farmer to
the National Gallery of Jamaica
walk through saturday downtown market
taxi to the grocery
Tashanna the angel
Natalie runs on the treadmill, i walk to KE
sunset swimming in the freezing infinity pool
hot bath w love
shower the hair
dress and small dinner
last home drink
up up up the hill to
dub club
smoky dub music in the clouds
danced
saw fireworks
and popcorn
and dancing
circles, circling back to a
champagne glass next to the drivers seat
flask of herb wine next to mine
slowly, slithering back to New Kingston
in the nighttime of a new day

~ 6 ~
free breakfast: kitchen sink omelet, fruit, coffee, water, festival, platanos, and a complimentary mimosa
walking to the banks, several failed withdrawals
packing up
waiting for Robert
red shirt, tan truck, big smile
cash out
ride up
the treehouse
the tour
the pool and trail
dinner at 6?
acki and shellfish, peas and rice, greens not calaloo
reading and drinking
scrabble in bed under the net
never ending music for a wake, then an end

~ 7 ~
wake up puffy eyed a little before 9
shirtless on the balcony
big rainbow across the sky
Chef says breakfast is on the way
coffee, scrambled eggs w veggies, fried plantains, breadfruit (looked like dry pineapple slices), slices of mango, a peeled orange, everything fresh, juicy, lovely
more coffee, Bobby and Chef smoking
prep
driving to Holywell
the waterfall hike
smoke at the falls
kiss on the hills
walk to David’s coffee plantation
the Chinese crew, little kids giggling and playing games, the two big dogs loafing and eyeing everyone, the coffee man deeply darkened by the sun yet profoundly lightened by endless cups of coffee
walking back home
Natalie’s forgotten R1: the run
gap cafe too fancy
walk thru the military yard
flask of clear rum, water, cheese puffs, and chocolates at the bubbles stop
walk home
cold shower (Ginger on drums)
wifi, soup, and dinner (more Fela)
seafish, fried carrots and greens, potato, yams, plantains
greasy spliff
drinks and reading

~ 8 ~
up a little earlier, round 830
coffee and breakfast on the taller balcony
acki and fish, breadfruit, fried plantains, papaya, orange
reading reading reading
the ride to Craighton
the $25 tour w Jerome
280,000 coffee plants—arabica not robusta—the latter 52% of the world coffee, the former 48%—though like the #1 most traded good (oil), the #2 (coffee) is often adulterated as there’s no standard nor authority—and Blue Mountain arabica is something special, with 70% of its sales going to wealthy Japanese—Jamaicans themselves drink instant coffee—unless they’re like Robert—usually Arabica ripens in 5-7 months, in Blue Mountains it takes 9-11—juicier, sweeter—Twyman and other north side farmers get less sun so their harvest is shorter
three cups of coffee after the lesson
walk to red light
bananas and coconut snack from the roadside rasta
walk from red light
Natalie loses her shades
hitching a ride w the 33 year old who spent 20 years living in Kingston before moving to London, comes back to visit family every xmas, warned us of the dangers of hitch hiking
eits cafe
walking up and a ride w David, bobby’s coz
walking to prince valley
glasses for a drink and phone
meeting, laughing, smoking w omero from Oakland and Tazia from near Kingston
drinks and dinner: beans, greens, and pumpkin rice, perfection
sunset
beer and adieu
reading, reading, hearts, reading

~ 9 ~
up a little earlier, around 815
Ovid on the balcony
coffee and breakfast in the usual spot
acki and fish, plantains, coco bread
packing up and paying
peace
dj dale down the mountain
bob Marley museum
best dinner (fried chicken, beef stew, pork stew, or curried goat?) plus rum
two wedding episodes of friends

~ 10 ~
coffee, toast, and fruit on the balcony
Mahogany Beach
food and drink on James (same menu)
crazy dance boat party TV
Turtle Beach
souvenir shopping i
drinks on James
moms restaurant (fish stew)

~ 11 ~
coffee, toast, and fruit on the balcony
souvenir shopping ii
passage to passage to India (naan, South Indian chicken, chicken tikka masala)
chilling at KE
KE to Mo Bay
El Greco, cocktail on arrival
cocktails and joint on the balcony (Half Pint)
bellboy escort to room, J$400
atm, the old walk
1/2 lb ribs at pork pit
the walk back
another round

~ 12 ~
up around 8
finished Herzog
breakfast: one American, one Jamaican (mine is fried fish, greens, small banana, yucca, dumpling, and Nat’s French toast)
old white retired everywhere
blacks go J, whites go A
down to the street, rum up
packing, Brilliant Corners, checking out
smoke on the cliff side
delayed flight
walk down to the park shade
bk fries
taxi to airport
lines, lines, food court, hearts
exit row flight
chaos at CLT Continue reading

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siesta

they fell in love in the early morning
the sea rippling golden red
the horizon green as their affection
radiant violet skies overhead.

robust and mighty, they stretched their wings
and took off for the west.
“wherever we’re together,” they sung,
“that wherever will be best.”

they left the sea and traced the rivers,
worshiping the water’s ways—
its springs produced a thousand greens,
dark mossy rocks and verdant glades.

vast forests gave way to vaster plains
and these, in turn, grew rocky.
until the land swelled up to heaven,
which the lovers flew over, cocky.

gliding down, at last, they gazed upon
the desert—endless, empty, eternal—
imagining it wide enough for their love
but ignorant of the sun, infernal.

“siesta!” she cried, as she landed
and down in the dirt she lay.
and there her lover hopes and weeps forever
of her rousing, even as stars fade away. Continue reading

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Live!

what happens when you are the input and the output

what happens when you only have two states: drunk and hungover

what happens when you refuse to sip on anything but top-shelf lit

the obvious cognitive dissonance in selling your words but not your music while knowing full well that rhythm is rhythm

what happens when you decide to quit

what happens when the people you love think that’s a great idea

what happens when you think the people you love are a great idea

what happens when a work of fiction is not real fiction

what happens when the fruits of your entire consciousness are simply the back page scribbles of someone else’s story

a single glass of four-day-old $4 wine

what happens when you only dance and cuddle, no no fuck

what happens when wave

what happens when you want to be the pacifist shark in the tank

a dark, long-haired man kissing Israel, hugging Palestine

what happens when you crack an egg over bibimbop pizza

“this is happening,” concluded the stubbly subway sound engineer

what happens in the city does not stay in the city. Continue reading

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selections from I Was a Robot by Wolfgang Flür

So that was all he could say about Karl and me, after 16 years of passion and collaboration. We were nothing more than disposable robots to him. (255) Continue reading

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it is

it was a beautiful, lovely, deep day. Continue reading

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Paris · Farningham · London · Amsterdam

~ 0 ~
horrible traffic
in n out
4-hour delay
“this is the worst airline ever”
chili’s out of salad and Mexican food
geographically challenged hostess
know your rights!
sleep? dreamy purple pinkish tint thereof
a moment in Oslo
Paris
nightmare on rue chaptal
Moulin Rouge

~ 1 ~
walk to espresso
Tour Eiffel
walk along the Seine
lunch in the Latin Quarter?
Notre Dame
espresso for the Louvre
kill in the garden
fancy ass French food
Arc de Triomphe
legs falling off
white wine and Lucky Strike

~ 2 ~
Père Lachaise
Indian at Chapelle
Musée d’Orsay
USA WINS 0-1
fancy ass fucking ave (dck sp + chkn brst)
farewell to the Seine
1-2-3!!! something something Algérie!!!

~ 3 ~
omelette complet at the Gare du Nord
Eurostar to Ebbsfleet
tea (twice) on the Tabsfield green
tomato basil, cheesy mushroom quiche, fresh strawberry creme brûlée, and a couple pints with the wedding party and co.
the cottage

~ 4 ~
fresh fruit, meat, a poached egg, and coffee
dressing for the wedding
Frost on the green
wedding at St Peter and St Paul’s Church
half Indian feast and dance (the Brits, the delicious Indian food, the champagne beer red and white wine, the light rain, and heavy dancing)
afterparty at the cottage

~ 5 ~
breakfast redux (hungover version)
football w Maya on the green
to London
appetizing Indian leftovers
The Tower
wandering in the rain
St. Paul’s
old fucking white egg-headed, perfectly circular black spectacle-wearing, pound-grubbing pieces of shit ushers guarding against pilgrims at the footsteps to the house of god
covent garden
pho
lazying and familying

~ 6 ~
waking up sans Natalie in a nasty mood
bacon on a roll
cold shower
Tate Modern
Eat.
The Globe
Parliament
Westminster
Evensong
Upminster then Whitechapel
ALG v GER

~ 7 ~
waking up w Natalie, happily
full English breakfast in Whitechapel
Natural History Museum
Kensington Gardens
fancy ass Indian food
£5 to the girl from Canada Macedonia CA
USA v BLG :(

~ 8 ~
scratched iris
mushroom omelette
nap to
Stonehenge
and nap from
Nando’s w David and Evelyn

~ 9 ~
to Amsterdam
grocery shopping
white wine
Concertgebouw
a spliff at Rookie’s
shoarma on the corner

~ 10 ~
homemade breakfast
double espresso
spliff on the diagonal green
Rijksmuseum
shopping, snacks in bed
Little Thai Prince
red light district
overpriced and pre-rolled
stoned wander home
ice cream

~ 11 ~
bacon breakfast
Blue Bird
Myrabelle, bartended by a more muscular and more feminine version of John Dwyer.
gluten-free crackers, goat cheese, smoked salmon, olives dripping in oil and basil, water, and wine
second Thai dinner
Vondelpark
Amstels all night at the cafe
NED v CRC

~ 12 ~
nightmare
check out
fresh fruit pancake across from Anne Frank
spliff on the green
Van Gogh Museum
rest in Vondelpark
walk
coffee
bus
plane
tube

~ 13 ~
tube
train
plane
Oslo
plane
Oakland
home? Continue reading

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(i’m gonna give it to you, give it to you, give it to you, give it to you, give it to you)

in the morning, he feasted on piggy bits while his woman feasted big old spit. and it was so goddamn good that he thought he was hallucinating. and he was

in a grey car zipping
through a grey weather squinting
on a grey bridge swinging

to San Francisco! where he wore Lily in his hair for fifteen minutes or more while waiting for government workers to bring salvation back in the form of a place to park his swinging gray weather.

there’s nothing to do but do what people do, he said, so he showed a black & white picture here, met a decaffeinated chief executive there, penned secret blog posts pretty much everywhere.

cellphone’s dead, swinging bridges grey with grey, blunts is blonde with bombs like, what? selling beer is money? like, what? birthdays feel like birthdays.

speaking of sex,

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here, say

in which the Hero does too many things. Continue reading

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Pre-9/11

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stay up late with some heat in my body [archive]

thank you dugowsonlopezweinriblevi:

i had some crazy dreams last night. i kept waking up, slightly, and the third time i forced myself to write them down because they were so good. but when i woke up for the last time i realized that i had only dreamed of writing them down. here’s what i remember, fragments, fractions, fractals:

i was in my living room with my family, and a meal was set on a tiny table. my whole family, including Millie, was there and as they recited some prayer/grace, i looked down awkwardly with eyes shut, mouth shut, as usual, until the Amen came, which i recited in turn, because i like that word. when i opened my eyes the meal had transformed into something lavish, something that would most likely materialize on thanksgiving or christmas, which made sense because my family doesn’t pray openly around meals except on holidays like thanksgiving and maybe christmas.

then the table was cleared and a game of monopoly replaced the food. dice rolled, pieces moved, money exchanged. i, of course, was the banker. but we had trouble getting my dad to stay put. i guess he didn’t really feel like playing a game of monopoly with the rest of us and instead felt like making a cappuccino. pretty realistic.

then i slept for another hundred years or so and my dreams switched gears: Dan and i had infiltrated some sort of subway system structured so as to pass over water. at our stop, we nearly snuck out undetected, but stopped to help a group of our enemies, or whoever it was that we had been hiding from, carry a poor fat lady who seemed to have lost all ability to move of her own volition but screamed in pain whenever anybody nudged any of her limbs more than an inch. after we assisted in the transport of this overly sensitive behemoth into an adjacent room, we attempted our exit, again only to be thwarted by the head of this adversarial faction we had been trying to avoid at all costs. he accosted us and demanded we follow him into his office. we had no choice. after giving him our fake names so as to ensure our escape, he checked the names on his computer system, which, though looking like a contraption straight out of the year 3046, appeared to be running Windows 3.1. my name checked out, but Dan’s, which was something friar-like, “Father _____” or “Brother _____” or something, just wasn’t matching up with the Dan that stood by my side. we started to feel quite nervous and verged on the point of breaking under the increased scrutiny of this headmaster until, at the last moment, he burst out laughing and slapped the machine declaring, “like i’m going to trust this old junk!” meaning that he would let us go. before we departed, i glanced at the monitor hanging by my head (monitors hung everywhere) and saw that it had been rolling the credits for the Mozilla Firefox development team. upon seeing the name “Tori Wolffe,” i made a point of making sure everyone knew that this very Tori Wolffe was actually my friend and she had indeed been instrumental in the development of the greatest internet browser in the world.

at last: escape! i floated along a narrow valley, no, fell, plunged, free-fell from the sky towards a narrow valley with Adam, not Dan, to my left, then poof! he initiated his parachute and i followed suit. now we really floated, descending slowly and swiftly into this narrow valley. as we approached the ground, i noticed that someone or something had stockpiled shoes and other articles of clothes into the mountainsides. in fact, they had been placed so meticulously that it took a real keen eye to carve them out of the rock. in fact in fact, i soon realized that these were not mountains of rock at all, but mountains of linens and other textiles!

at that very moment, a whip of gust dragged us out of the valley and far above these small hills to the peak of some far-off mountain, where we landed. in the distance, i spotted an amusement park, and i was soon there. everybody, and i mean everybody (but not really everybody), was trying to get on this epically big rollercoaster. the thing was constantly moving and there were enough seats for everyone but everyone wanted to sit with their friends so you’d climb this skyscraper of a structure, flights and flights of stairs, climbing, climbing, until you decided okay fine i’m happy with this seat i think i’ll just sit here and i did. then it took you. imagine the tallest rollercoaster drop you’ve ever experienced, except twice as tall and you’re upside down and instead of going quick as lightning you go in super slow-motion, so slow that you could draw all the faces looking up at you from below, if they had not been but tiny blurs from the distance you soared above them. at one particularly winding turn, a little boy in a bat suit flew up to my face and laughed a little hello, to which i laughed a little wave of my hand at him, which apparently created enough wind to send him careening down to the earth.

what i did this weekend:

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