yes, I'm back from the sea and already drun k

I got home at 6am, slept for a few hours, then woke up. I am mighty drunk, and sick like fuck. My dream was about sucking cum to make the illness go away - it sounded like a good idea. I had plans of reading about my cyber friends, but I have oh so little concentration.

We hit a gay bar that looked more like a dungeon made out of styrofoam. You know that woman that used to turn into a gorilla in the 80s, in fun fares? I know what happened to her. And you know that club where the toilets are more popular than the dance floor and every stall fits 3 or more? I know what happened to it. And you know that DJ who was kicked and punched and spat on because he played bad techno and all the kids hated him? I know what happened to him. And you know that transvestite who was once a little boy with an Adam's apple, and she grew up to have a thick neck that concealed it and made everyone confused? I know what happened to her.

Two caipirinhas and a half later, we went to Madame Sata - top goth club in Sao Paulo. Everybody in black, of course. The dance floor dark as a a goth's bung hole, with strobe lights unable to break through the drench. The DJ played 10 Smiths/Morrissey songs, to the screams of the ecstatic and fanatic, followed by The Cure's Just Like Heaven (my favourite Cure song.) I dropped my beer can, it spilled everywhere. Like a lady, I picked it up and continued drinking from it. I swayed, stepped on people's toes, got very very drunk and had some discussions about how living in 5 different continents really doesn't make me all that special (I think.)

Then we hit some bakery full of Fags and Butts and ecstasy casualties. I stepped on some girl's foot and I think she got mad at me. I ate a sandwich called The Chagall, with a cappucino.

WE DROVE HOME SINGING TO MORRISSEY AT THE TOP OF OUR LUNGS! And we almost crashed.

Now I can't sleep, I feel I should try to puke or something. Or maybe eat. I can't find a goddamm aspirin in this forsaken apartment.

The sea, the crude movie and the calendar I need to buy

NOW, FOR NEWS ABOUT MY WEEKEND AT THE SEA.

It rained all the time and it was the first time I swam by myself on a beach (with my two friends Henrique and Garnize watching me.) I almost took off my shorts and waved it at them: it would have been the first time I swam in the sea naked. But I'm a puritan so I didn't. Fuckidy fuck.

The sea, with rain falling on it for more than 24 hours, turned into the colour of my eyes. I have muddy green eyes that sometimes go grey and metallic (under sex, spiritual enlightment and good lighting.) I felt at home. I sat on the sand and let the waves wash my ass crack and my dick underneath the shorts. I squeezed the sand with my hands in that meaningful gesture you see so many times in movies. Nobody was watching so I guess it was special.

And yesterday, Henrique and I went on a treck that took us through 4 different beaches! We had to climb some rocks and I almost fell to my death ("Henrique, if one of us falls into the sea the other one can't jump in - or the two of us die") Everything done under the rain. The rain was so heavy that leaks began to appear everywhere in the beach house. We had towels against the walls in our bedroom and a bucket aswell. The rain trickled down and no clothes were getting dry. My clothes stank of humidity and I had to borrow a t-shirt from Henrique to go out last night (see previous post.)


I'm also very amused that some fuckwit wrote in my journal about supporting Mel Gibson and his Jesus movie. If they have naked shots of Jesus and his cute bubblebutt then I'll go, I'll line up and face the choir. Otherwise, forget it. My money is better spent on calendars of Catholic priests so I can spend my useless hours wanking away in the bathroom.

(I feel very pottymouth today. Somebody tell me to shuttup.)