9.02.2003

food-on

this is one white boy who's had enough. we had to get inside. the heat was killing me. i lost my floppy rich bitch sunhat so my delicate scalp was completely exposed all afternoon. as a result there's not a thought in my head, bless me. occasionally there'll be the intimation of a thought, flickering like the sunlight on the surf for a few seconds before it's gone.

solid gone.

when i get back to NYC i'll fit right in with those musclehead chelsea boys who sit hunched over a copy of HX at The Big Cup, tracing beneath the words with a meaty finger as they struggle to sound aloud the syllables to the personals ads.

in related news, my diet is fucked to hell, loves. besides the mind-numbing, belly stretching quantities of booze i managed to guzzle, this trip's been about pasta, swiss chocolate and all the fried food i can stuff my face with. today, as a punishment, the poolside fries that i guiltily nibbled upon were slowly recooked in my gut as i napped at the shore like a beached whale. i kid you not. when i woke up my tummy was so bloated that for a second i thought i was wearing one of those rubber innertubes. after writhing about for an hour in god forsaken, toe-curling pain, i managed to take a shit that was the exact texture and consistency of mashed potatoes. except it was black, of course.

ahhh! the perils of the tropics!



speaking of food and death...




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