Tagged: nomadlife

ibiza__1

ibiza, 2015

________________________________________

1

chasing one little baby tick of unblackened weed around the rim of the pipe, warm in my bone-cold fingers: cold white light and me here on this dingy old velvet couch listening to the boys in AIDS’s bedroom pretending it’s a real gym. they listen to eminem a little too much, but i won’t givem shit for it.

genezareth and hannah are considering busking on a corner on weekends; seabass was turned down for a resto job due to his lack of a work visa; bethany was selling Christmas cards for a euro apiece; i was considering selling knit caps, AIDS and I have discussed becoming regional camgirls.

we are sort of brutally poor, but we do our bestish. combat creeping depression with routines and rituals: open the shutters every morning and close them up every night, go for hikes, go for runs, do pullups and pushups and abs, chat together in the sparsely-furnished kitchen all squattin on buckets and low stools on the ground. we are all in balls deep for bernie sanders.

written fall-winter 2015. entry 1 of a series.

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GUIRI

face streaked with black and the bus people are
either fearful or concerned. nothing
about you is what they would call normal. though at
home you’re just another bland fat kid in a
jersey sweater, here you are something exotic (if
by exotic you mean to imply an irksome foreign
terror threat in flannel visibly stoned at seven-thirty
in the morning unable to keep its paint-stained fingers
off a pen.) ‘You do it well,’ they tell you, and you say
oh! it’s a compulsion!

but it’s eight and you’re late again and you’re wondering
as always
why this goddamned bus is so
painfully slow, time is a physical pressure on your
spinal column that gets worse in the cold, the bus
folks likely can’t relate. it’s almost their naptime already.

EN AZUL 

heat rises. stay high.
be resourceful. fuck a
guy from a beach
town above the water
level but heed the
tide ye lunar whore

the seasons change all
over even if the
weather doesn’t and even
if you don’t. still
the dampness invades more
than just moldy bedding
and old walls. breathe
in. you will feel
it if you can
feel anything
at all.