Tag Archives: shopping


~ 0 ~
SFO in the early morning
triple couple brunch date
SFO in the afternoon
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
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
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
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
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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Michael Pollan’s Food Rules

Eat food. Mostly plants. Not too much. Continue reading

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IMG_6207 copy IMG_6231 copy IMG_6355 copy IMG_6508 copy IMG_6571 copy Continue reading

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it is

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

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my hands smell like garlic. that’s what happens when you spend an entire evening writing a poem and the entire next evening editing.

i exaggerate. i’m a super freak. i’m problematic. i problem.

really, tonight i was much more productive than a poet might be expected to be. after biking home, i did a load of laundry, paid a bunch of bills, cleaned up a bit, rubbed the kitty, spun a bunch of disco, and got saucy with some onion, garlic, bell pepper, and mushroom. the new way to pay bills: write check, take hit, repeat. oh, and i also phoned w Adam for nearly an hour… talking Daft Punk, life, love, and Daft Punk. love that man.

just now clicking an email from american apparel to have it be marked as read made me wonder why the hell they were sending me emails anyway… and i remembered that i bought something from them recently: a dog hoodie for Meryl and Joel’s little Link. the only thing i’ve ever bought from them.

anyway, as monumental as was last month’s mountain range, this one will overflow with hardcore glamming champagne rock & roll. all love #nofilter all throughout. she makes me feel peace and poetry.

perfect alpine glow, red blood fountain flow. Continue reading

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in which the Hero tries one more time to say something relevant about sound, only to bow to life-based mundanities. Continue reading

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tchelitchew phenomena

in which the Hero experiences Modern Art, eats Tacos and Peaches, and Bitches about Things. Continue reading

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You Can’t Hurry Love

i don’t normally do this, but this is an emergency blog post. it’s past 11am, breakfast time on a tuesday, and i just ate probably two of the most delicious cheesy egg breads ever. like, ever. the pan was still … Continue reading

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At War with the Mystics [archive]

i’m living in a world of fantasy and i’m at war with the mystics.

for too long i’ve tarried this side of reality, giving the mystics time to muster their magicks, which now, daily, blast, bomb, and bust the chamber door to my mind. i eat, smoke, and drink with the voracity of a hobbit–true enough, that is too common–but i also breathe the fire of dragons, i run free on a white horse with invisible wings, i slice with sword, i cleave with axe, i fell with bow and arrow, i tempt with gold and i deny with heart, i pay in mithril and am paid in orc or goblin, and, perhaps most of all, i study ancient runes with the timeless wisdom of a resurrected wizard. may the light of Tolkien shine for many eternities.

yes, i am still obsessed with the Lord of the Rings, having just completed the second volume, the Two Towers. i now make for the final installation, the Return of the King.

as some may have also guessed, i have just returned from Seattle, where i graciously stayed in the house of Tori of California. in that misty, foggy, rainy, mountain-shaded land, the sun broke through the clouds for over half the days i was there. Tori suggested i may have had some part in it, but i know nothing of performing Sun songs and the like, though i have heard quite a few in my day. i know a thing or two about messages. here’s one conveyed to me this week:

so, what the fuck did i do in Seattle for 4.5 days, besides listen to seminal hip hop cuts that spawned generations of hacks and cheat-repeats? well, for the most part, i did my favorite thing: be-ed. that’s right i beed in bed, beed on street corners, beed in cafes, beed in parks, beed on bridges, beed real stoned, beed real drunk, and beed unsconed. not only did i be, but i beed with one of my favorite persons to be with: aforementioned black-haired doll. she was a hostess beyond hosts, tending to me constantly with delicious food, warm water, and thermoplastic polymer music. she made live and able beats, i read tales of hobbits, we drank German beer, and more than once one of us concluded for the two of us that people’s minds have all gone awry, twisted, packaged, and marketed. god i love that girl.

my first night in, Tori showed me the Graduate. i really couldn’t get into it. i mean, i actually stayed up and watched the whole movie, while Tori passed out, but mostly because i was baffled that what i was watching was generally considered a classic film. it’s like some dude got baked in college and fantasized about his life for the next year and decided to make a movie about it.

but then, with promotions pushing this photo around, who wouldn’t want to watch it? Simon and Garfunkel, though, they’re really good.

the next day, Tori served me up some some warm, fuzzy chai from one of her favorite places, but i must say: Turkish chai (spelled ‘cay’ except the c has a hook for gouging people’s eyes out) holds a very special tulip-shaped place in my heart and will always hold dominion over that particular pronunciation of ch-ah-eeeee!!!!! because Turkish tea is that good.

i also ran into rebecca yeats, the great poet! rather, poet great the, yates rebecca ran into me. i was sitting in a very central location on UW campus, aside a massive circle of a dirty pond for ducks, reading about Riders of Rohan and such and such and she recognized my fluffball behind the book. we discussed English majory things, my complete lack of tact when visiting locales wherein live my friends and acquaintances, and the world around us.

besides rebecca’s friend (who, though his name escapes me now and probably forever, seemed like a genuinely cool and interesting guy based on my semi-five-minute interaction with him), i met a lot of people over the past few days. Tori’s housemates–NIK, BRITNEE, DAYMION, NOE, chris?–were all very cool. as cool as the house where they lived. here are their profiles:

NIK: a giant who can unreservedly kill a liter of German beer, but only after baking a couple dozen cookies.

BRITNEE: a blonde with fresh taste in music, fresh taste in drug paraphernalia, and fresh taste in taste.

DAYMION: a unicorn who plays dota in the morning, wears cool leather jackets in the afternoon, and woos beautiful girls in the night.

NOE: a volunteer still trying to figure out the difference between Magic and Disco.

chris?: chris.

i met a bunch of other cool people too, all friends of Tori’s, but i must say that the one who seemed the chillest, illest, and all-around realest was her boyfriend. we hung out, ate gyros, smoked hookah, and watched the animated Hobbit. good times for all.

did i say GREEK food?! apparently lots of Greek people (or Mediterreanos, in general) must live in Seattle because there are Greek/Palestinian/Turkish places all over the city. the first one i went to, this wonderful old Greek lady welcome me, but i didn’t really test out the real Greek food: i ordered a feta omelette. real Greeks don’t eat eggs. Saturday night, however, Tori and i bailed on our bus back home from buying records and watching sunsets to eat at this fancy (“fancy”) place called Costa’s (Kosta’s?). i ordered moussaka, this sort of layered and baked bread-meat-eggplant thing that i remember ruling when served at cya lunches. it was good. hail Athena!

the Music that People in Seattle listen to:

Animal Collective
Aphex Twin
The Beach Boys
Black Moth Super Rainbow
Bob Dylan
Daft Punk
DJ Shadow
Dr. Dre
Explosions in the Sky
The Flaming Lips
George Michael
Grandmaster Flash
James Brown
Jimi Hendrix
Lead Belly
Lee Greenwood
Modest Mouse
Neon Indian
Neutral Milk Hotel
New Order
The Notorious B.I.G.
Pink Floyd
Sigur Ros
Simon and Garfunkel
Snoop Dogg
The Velvet Underground

i bought two records. one:

the other one is a secret.

i also bought seven books for about $2: The Hobbit, The Making of Kubrick’s 2001, The Works [Plays, Poems, Novels, and Stories] of Oscar Wilde (it’s nearly 1000-pages fat), The Thousand and One Nights (some harvard classics edition), The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain, a book about blue whales, and the seventh book is, like the second record, a secret!

meden agan:

p.s. i’m in love. Continue reading

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hungover [archive]

after refusing to see The Hangover with Donni and Hannah for two whole separate weekends, i finally caved and went to see it with my mom and brothers. my expectations were bottom-of-the-sea low and Billy calling it the best comedy in forever didn’t really float it any higher. but i laughed. i actually laughed. i was thrilled! pretty solidly good movie. definitely worth seeing. i still don’t know if i would pay my OWN money to go see it, but yeah, it’s good.

last night i hung out with Christopher Burd Quines. with the sun setting over a hazy Ocean Beach, we drove around purply in search of rhythm, finding ourselves taking the Classical route into the heart of the city, Amoeba Records. Rich had gifted me an Amoeba $13.55 credit receipt in exchange for spending ratio from one of my favorite private torrent sites on downloading Jason Moran bootlegs for him. pretty sweet exchange, but i didn’t find anything to spend it on this time. i mean, i found many things i could have bought, but i just don’t buy things that easily. i only think a few things are worth spending money on these days, in order of importance: food (always), music (live always, vinyl sometimes, CDs never), transportation, and drugs (which might more correctly be classified under “transportation”).

tonight i’m seeing Young Prisms play a house show live in Gio’s asshole, according to the bizarre pink triangle.

also, watch this:

Continue reading

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