Hi friends. Where to begin. Maybe in the middle. What is blogging? Fuck I feel so far removed from the whole damn thing but ever so addicted still, I think it’s fine to give it a rest every so often and self-reflect and by self-reflect I mean party your fucking brains out in the tropics for a couple weeks. I’m writing about it for Playboy Energy CA, actually, and should be doing that right now (bad bad Raymi Bunny girl) BUT I am super depressed about being home so I need to barf up some thoughts here first before accepting reality that I am home in the cold and the boring. No offense but I hated who I was before I left. My brain feels like it went through an electric cleansing screen. Cutting myself off from the toxicity of hyper-connected North America was the best thing ever. Falling in love, too. I mean I didn’t want to but it happened. I fought it. I fight off love and feelings because that shit is cray intense and scary and I’ve left a slew of it before in my wake and I’ve become hardened and independent. I think I gave up looking, quietly confident it will come to me on its own again I am damn done searching, I lazy bitch!
I’ll save the details for another time I’ll just say that I initiated none of this! AHha. It’s like a Tropic of Cancer biopic of insanity actually, to travel all the way to a tiny island and meet someone who has done the same from another side of the world who is like totally the exact same person as you, fate maybe? You don’t see it at first, then you fall in a hole in the ocean and he blows the rest of his travel plans to stay with you. Unbelievable.
Chemistry. The chemical reaction one feels in their body. The knowing. At first it’s a game maybe, fun. Then the green light. We went sight seeing together when it happened and I was like okay well I guess now I will have to have sex with him seeing as I blew his last night in Aruba. I was actually running from him in the ocean after a sick solid five minutes of a sand fight as dinner guests on the beach watched us and the sunset. Compatible shit like that.
Wanting to forget the world together and take it on. Writing lovey babble such as this, freaking out about it, being terrified, knowing you don’t live forever and only once. Minxing each other copmpletely. What is this? he asked. What is what? This. This us. What is this, us? I don’t know, it’s something? We speak in rhymes and riddle because there is a language barrier, it makes things eloquent, bizarre and insane. I love it. I always said I hated accents, the euro-y ones but maybe that’s because I had a thing for them because they scare me, beguile me. Foreignness. I din’t like foreign things, or I do. Am I secretly racist?
Also who stays? Who does that? And for me? What? Why? Alright I’ll stop blathering about that for now and do the real deal travel caption/synopsis report. Those aren’t underwear they’re hiked-up control bathing suit bottoms and that’s my dirtiest sock in the world how, loveable? We sang that it was the dirties sock in the world a la Rihanna, of course. We drove in to a gated community to sight see. We hustled everyone we met. He speaks the language, he speaks four actually, and I’m a half naked white chick so we did whatever we wanted. Lethal combo. People fall in love with crazy people, people who don’t care or try.
This was the gangsterest house in the naybe.
My birthday was delayed by injury, we celebrated it days and days later. Mom’s dress looked like mine.
The last hotel on the right with the green part is the Westin where I stayed last July.
Flinstoner abode behind me was our villa. We moved there from the coconut inn (s-hole) (but we dug it) I can’t remember when. This pool was private for us until our last morning (boo) and we had a great time getting wasted and tanning by it pretty much naked the entire time. You get comfortable in your skin real quick in that heat. I lost 10 pounds. I was bummed I couldn’t run on the beach like I had planned to but all the hopping around I did before I could drag limp my left foot around got me in shape too, up and down stairs, so exhausting. I banged it a lot too and I’m sure drinking on it didn’t help the swelling but I was on vacation so, whatevs.
I miss so much and I hate being back but “I will deal” people who say they don’t mind being back are liars.