I’m naked. I’m crawling. I’m crawling on a cement pier on hands and knees, looking at the water below, willing myself not to fall in. Five minutes before I had seen something exceedingly large and dark swim next to the pier. I warned Gemma who was lingering behind me, and kept going. I wanted off the pier, and the only way was to crawl.
**********
The night started off pretty chilled out. I was feeling confident; I had a low cut silver baby doll tank on, with a pair of skinny jeans, and black high heels. I felt good. It was going to be a good night; I wasn’t going to get crazy tonight. Going out with Gemma and her boyfriend Chad meant nothing special or out of the ordinary. Chad’s usually more of late night person. On Gemma’s own 21st birthday she fell asleep while the rest of us played in the hot tub naked and then got in the shower. When Naivette got married, Gemma fell asleep at around 1. Chad and I stayed up and rapped to 36Mafia, smoked out on the Caribbean’s boardwalk, and drank beers until 4 in the morning… laid in a hammock until security came and asked us what was going on. I heard he puked in the morning.
I didn’t.
So, regardless, I didn’t expect much. We rolled out at around 9:30. I got some martinis at Kaze Sushi’s bar, where Ducky works. We got a free shot because I smiled real pretty at the bartender. Me, Gemma, and the bartender toasted and then savored the special concoction.
We met up with Chad and went out to the Island. The first bar held promise. It was dead, there was a smoking hot bartender, and there was a live band. We sat down and I got my usual, Red Bull and Vodka. This bartender, she was so sweet. She had glasses; it gave her this really innocent look about her, it made me want her. That’s neither here nor there. So we started drinking and socializing together, when this older man from across the bar calls me a tourist. I sat bolt upright and shot back at him, “I’ve lived here my whole life”. He started bullshiting me and then sidled on over and asked to get a picture with us. He had a fucking fanny pack. What the fuck did this dude call me a tourist for? He bought everyone in the bar a shooter with SoCo in it. It was free, so I drank it.
Then came the death blow. I’ll give you one hint. It begins with “T”.
And ends with “quila”.
Chad bought us shots of Patron. From there all I can recollect is the old dude giving Gemma his email address: cunninglinguist @ something.com.
Oh shit! I’m reeling now. My adrenaline is going. I’m so pumped.
All of a sudden we’re at Gilligan’s, and hip-hop is on. We get in, I buy a drink, get on the dance floor and it cascades all over me. I’m humping everything that moves. I spot a magical pole in the distance. A silver, lonely, pole- just waiting to be danced on. I bounce on over, sizing it up. Gemma gives me the go ahead, so I jump up and start wailing on that thing. I’m swinging every which way. Dollar bills start floating up onto the platform. Encouraged, I straddle it and smile, wishing every night could be this exhilarating.
I come down to earth…and it’s blurry. I’m dancing with Gemma and Chad. Then a black guy. Then Chad drags me back. We’re leaving: Gemma feels the immediate need to go swimming.
We arrive at our beach. This is our beach. We came here in high school, never drunk, but full of angst and infatuation. We would all lay our heads in each other’s laps, and play games. The house on the rocky point was under construction for years, and we would go inside and start little fires, and tell stories. Gemma, Gomez, L., and I would have “sand wars” and pelt handfuls of sand at each other as hard as we could. Sometimes Gomez and I would skinny dip in broad daylight, but no one could see because we would never get out of the water.
Now we stripped down on the sand, in front of the road that ran along side the beach. I must’ve had some sense of concern because I asked Gemma, “Are you sure”?
I had been in this situation way too many times. But this was just weird. This wasn’t my idea! I never said, “Hey lets get naked tonight”. It was Gemma!
Gemma was already in the water. I stood on the sand baffled. The water looked so inviting, and I could tell from there that the phosphorescence was present tonight. It swirled around Gemma and Chad as they splashed around.
***********
After swimming, I rolled around in the sand and laid on my back looking up at the stars, breathing deep. I missed home. I missed being here. All my memories come back to this place, and to the water. I remember walking, steady and sure out to the end of the pier, and looking at the moon instead, thinking how perfect my life was, how romantic the scene was. I was with someone else.
Now I laid there with sand in my crack. Drunk as fuck. 5 years later. Living between two cities. Living a double life.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
The Camping Trip from Hell part 2
Shot after shot of vodka goes down. Snow flake after snow flake filters down through the branches. The trees barely shelter the wind that’s blowing through our campsite. Someone breaks open a bottle of Jack. Vega is putting it away like no ones business. Slovakia is getting hazy. She’s completely sloshed. Her boyfriend, Ron, and his friend break out the “peanut butter”, i.e. the weed. We gather in a circle, Slovakia hits the bowl, and I breathe in, hoping to get a slight contact high. I look pleadingly over my shoulder at Ducky, but he shakes his head. He forbids me to use the substance, but that makes me want it even more.
Peanut butter guy brought his iPod and portable speakers. I DJed for a little while, played Placebo, and Led Zeppelin in a tandem. The fire dancing starts. We jumped and leaped and yelled around the blazing fire, fending off the cold. Slovakia and I proclaimed ardent love for each other, wrapped in one another’s arms.
"You know you shook me. You shook me all night long.
You shook me so hard baby. Baby, baby, please come home.
I have a bird that whistles and I have birds that sing.
I have a baby, won't do nothing ...oh, buy a diamond ring.
I said you shook me, baby. You shook me all night long.
You shook me so hard, baby. You shook me all night long."
Then we doubled over and exclaimed how bad we had to pee. Vega, Slovak, and I walked into the woods and picked a good spot for a pee, laughing hysterically all the while. I held onto a tree for dear life, squatting perilously, and yelling over to Vega in Japanese.
Not long after, Slovak was slumped over on a log, alternately puking and passing out. Three of the guys carried her body, while I carried her head. The three guys and Slovak were in one tent, and they all crawled in and went to bed. Ducky and I battened down the hatches because the wind was howling by now. The three of us crawled in to our tent, and fell asleep- only to wake up 3 hours later practically frozen. I had to pee really badly, but was so cold that I didn’t think it possible. Ducky offered to go and get the fire started, and I waited. He called to me, so I crept out and got as close as I dared to the fire. Still drunk, I stumbled to the far side of the clearing, grasping anything I could get my hands on for balance. I crawled back on hands and knees to the fire, my world spinning, and hands full of dirt and leaves. Vega joined us, and we waited for dawn.
As light started to break we got some ramen noodles and water. The funny thing was, as I poured the water from the jug it literally froze as it leapt into the metal pan. I tried to mix the shards of ice into the noodles, and thought to myself…”Yep… that pretty much explains why I thought I was going to fucking die of hypothermia last night”.
Peanut butter guy brought his iPod and portable speakers. I DJed for a little while, played Placebo, and Led Zeppelin in a tandem. The fire dancing starts. We jumped and leaped and yelled around the blazing fire, fending off the cold. Slovakia and I proclaimed ardent love for each other, wrapped in one another’s arms.
"You know you shook me. You shook me all night long.
You shook me so hard baby. Baby, baby, please come home.
I have a bird that whistles and I have birds that sing.
I have a baby, won't do nothing ...oh, buy a diamond ring.
I said you shook me, baby. You shook me all night long.
You shook me so hard, baby. You shook me all night long."
Then we doubled over and exclaimed how bad we had to pee. Vega, Slovak, and I walked into the woods and picked a good spot for a pee, laughing hysterically all the while. I held onto a tree for dear life, squatting perilously, and yelling over to Vega in Japanese.
Not long after, Slovak was slumped over on a log, alternately puking and passing out. Three of the guys carried her body, while I carried her head. The three guys and Slovak were in one tent, and they all crawled in and went to bed. Ducky and I battened down the hatches because the wind was howling by now. The three of us crawled in to our tent, and fell asleep- only to wake up 3 hours later practically frozen. I had to pee really badly, but was so cold that I didn’t think it possible. Ducky offered to go and get the fire started, and I waited. He called to me, so I crept out and got as close as I dared to the fire. Still drunk, I stumbled to the far side of the clearing, grasping anything I could get my hands on for balance. I crawled back on hands and knees to the fire, my world spinning, and hands full of dirt and leaves. Vega joined us, and we waited for dawn.
As light started to break we got some ramen noodles and water. The funny thing was, as I poured the water from the jug it literally froze as it leapt into the metal pan. I tried to mix the shards of ice into the noodles, and thought to myself…”Yep… that pretty much explains why I thought I was going to fucking die of hypothermia last night”.
a rose by any other name
What kinds of friends call you a slut to your face? We all know those people, who jokingly call you a slut, a whore, a bitch. And naturally, it’s all in jest and we laugh it off “Oh yes, hahaha, I am a dirty whore! Haha”. I do not find it particularly funny. I have a force field around me which deflects their quips of dissolution. They go flying right back in their face in fact. Twice friendships have dissolved for lack of appreciation of their funny little jokes. If I am acting like a dirty little whore, feel free to call me one. Because let’s face it: when we’re getting a good fuck from behind, who doesn’t like being called a hot bitch and a naughty slut. Repeatedly. And getting spanked. This I fully support.
However, if I am not in fact acting like one, look like one, talk like one- then don’t call me one. So I beg the question again, what kind of friends do this? The kind of people who whether sub-consciously or intentionally want to take you down a notch. They feel like they have to disrespect you, in order for themselves to feel better. You push someone lower, while you step on their whorish body and propel yourself to better social heights.
However, if I am not in fact acting like one, look like one, talk like one- then don’t call me one. So I beg the question again, what kind of friends do this? The kind of people who whether sub-consciously or intentionally want to take you down a notch. They feel like they have to disrespect you, in order for themselves to feel better. You push someone lower, while you step on their whorish body and propel yourself to better social heights.
Breakdowns in Bathrooms- everyone has them.
After I saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind I cried like a baby. I’m sure most people with any sort of soul did the same. The ony difference was that I cried my heart out in a bathroom stall of a movie theater. I cried for my ex love that I just couldn’t get over at the time. Lamenting all of the past love that I had, and wishing I could go back. And then I dried my eyes, looked in the mirror and gave myself a watery smile (deep breath), and walked out to rejoin my new love who was waiting for me outside.
4/18/07
I find really weird things in life tolerable. Like most changes in one’s personality, I am not really sure when this started to happen. More than tolerable, I may find it fascinating, or may not even realize that to most people’s standards it is strange.
First instance is Friday Night Movies. In my junior year of college I started having my friends over to watch movies in my room. We began with Labyrinth, which, granted, is real weird. Then we continued this theme with The Dark Crystal. Then, a few Korean movies. And then I picked the movies. I chose Mirrormask. Beautiful. They were like, what the fuck is this? Then I chose Running With Scissors. Now….this movie… was about people with mental health problems. I found it hilarious and relatable. My friends found it completely strange. I’m sorry, but finding Jesus in your morning BM is fucking funny. Furthermore, a masturbatorium is not an idea to throw out the window. I thought maybe they were just not opening their minds enough, but then I talked to my mom after she watched it, and we debated over whether or not the mom, played by Annette Bening, was actually crazy to start with. My mom said she had major problems, that she was obviously bipolar. The way she would have outbursts and get really angry. I thought she was just mad at her husband for being so dispassionate. This seemed like a normal, rational reason to get upset and scream at the top of your lungs – to make up for his passiveness. I saw nothing really wrong with her personality before she went on prescription anti-depressants. That was what really fucked her up, and I thought that’s what the point of the movie was. So case in point, what I find reasonable, other people find insane.
Second instance, after my freshman year of college I came back home to Florida for the summer. The biggest, raunchiest party of the year is my friend’s birthday party. We’ll call him SecretGay. He’s Gay, but ssssshhhh! It’s a secret. Even from himself. He’s really good looking. Polish. Sexy. Crazy. He would be a handful. Anyways, so biggest party of the year in my hometown. All the people gather here. My two good friends, Wolverine and L. (both guys) come dresses as women. Wolverine looks like Michael Jackson crossed with Wolverine crossed with a typical Indierock Emofuck. Gorgeous. And then L. comes dressed looking like some Ho, but has really nice painted lips. I almost kissed them, actually. This, to me, was amazing. They shaved their legs. I was totally and unabashedly impressed. The rest of the crowd was 50/50. Some were horrified. Some were turned on. But! The bigger question is- why is this not weird to me? Two straight men dressing up as women for fun to get a rise out of everyone? My best friend, who we shall dub Naivette, ran home to her mommy saying “That was so weird! It was disgusting! I don’t understand why they would do that. Those guys are strange.” Etc, etc.
Maybe it has to do with [adult swim] and video games? I don’t know. I do know, however, that there’s not a lot of things that weird me out.
Now to the heart of what has got me into this train of thought. The Virginia Tech shooting happened two days ago. Today, the package arrived at NBC in New York, and his videos and rantings were released to the world. So, what I’m going to say most likely will shock people. Obviously, he was crazy. No violence could ever be justified. But, I do understand his distress. The things he was rambling about were not totally unreasonable. Every day I went to my high school I had to watch as the rich kids got whatever they wanted, they had the coolest clothes, they would get drunk and wreck their cars and mommy and daddy would go out and buy them a brand new Jaguar or Lexus. Growing up in Sarasota was like living in this bubble, and everyone around you had money except for a handful of people. People in America should be more grateful for what they have. They should be kinder to the earth, and not be so caught up in material things. Treat people with respect and kindness. Abolish their prejudices. He was probably so frustrated with people in general that he snapped. That’s just one perception though.
Admittedly, college is a pretty debaucherous place. And I’m no exception, I’ve definitely had my fair share of debauchery and plan to partake in more of it. Its never without wondering what it is all for. Why am I doing this? How can I let myself get so wasted when I know I'm going to end up doing something dumb, like taking off all of my clothes?
First instance is Friday Night Movies. In my junior year of college I started having my friends over to watch movies in my room. We began with Labyrinth, which, granted, is real weird. Then we continued this theme with The Dark Crystal. Then, a few Korean movies. And then I picked the movies. I chose Mirrormask. Beautiful. They were like, what the fuck is this? Then I chose Running With Scissors. Now….this movie… was about people with mental health problems. I found it hilarious and relatable. My friends found it completely strange. I’m sorry, but finding Jesus in your morning BM is fucking funny. Furthermore, a masturbatorium is not an idea to throw out the window. I thought maybe they were just not opening their minds enough, but then I talked to my mom after she watched it, and we debated over whether or not the mom, played by Annette Bening, was actually crazy to start with. My mom said she had major problems, that she was obviously bipolar. The way she would have outbursts and get really angry. I thought she was just mad at her husband for being so dispassionate. This seemed like a normal, rational reason to get upset and scream at the top of your lungs – to make up for his passiveness. I saw nothing really wrong with her personality before she went on prescription anti-depressants. That was what really fucked her up, and I thought that’s what the point of the movie was. So case in point, what I find reasonable, other people find insane.
Second instance, after my freshman year of college I came back home to Florida for the summer. The biggest, raunchiest party of the year is my friend’s birthday party. We’ll call him SecretGay. He’s Gay, but ssssshhhh! It’s a secret. Even from himself. He’s really good looking. Polish. Sexy. Crazy. He would be a handful. Anyways, so biggest party of the year in my hometown. All the people gather here. My two good friends, Wolverine and L. (both guys) come dresses as women. Wolverine looks like Michael Jackson crossed with Wolverine crossed with a typical Indierock Emofuck. Gorgeous. And then L. comes dressed looking like some Ho, but has really nice painted lips. I almost kissed them, actually. This, to me, was amazing. They shaved their legs. I was totally and unabashedly impressed. The rest of the crowd was 50/50. Some were horrified. Some were turned on. But! The bigger question is- why is this not weird to me? Two straight men dressing up as women for fun to get a rise out of everyone? My best friend, who we shall dub Naivette, ran home to her mommy saying “That was so weird! It was disgusting! I don’t understand why they would do that. Those guys are strange.” Etc, etc.
Maybe it has to do with [adult swim] and video games? I don’t know. I do know, however, that there’s not a lot of things that weird me out.
Now to the heart of what has got me into this train of thought. The Virginia Tech shooting happened two days ago. Today, the package arrived at NBC in New York, and his videos and rantings were released to the world. So, what I’m going to say most likely will shock people. Obviously, he was crazy. No violence could ever be justified. But, I do understand his distress. The things he was rambling about were not totally unreasonable. Every day I went to my high school I had to watch as the rich kids got whatever they wanted, they had the coolest clothes, they would get drunk and wreck their cars and mommy and daddy would go out and buy them a brand new Jaguar or Lexus. Growing up in Sarasota was like living in this bubble, and everyone around you had money except for a handful of people. People in America should be more grateful for what they have. They should be kinder to the earth, and not be so caught up in material things. Treat people with respect and kindness. Abolish their prejudices. He was probably so frustrated with people in general that he snapped. That’s just one perception though.
Admittedly, college is a pretty debaucherous place. And I’m no exception, I’ve definitely had my fair share of debauchery and plan to partake in more of it. Its never without wondering what it is all for. Why am I doing this? How can I let myself get so wasted when I know I'm going to end up doing something dumb, like taking off all of my clothes?
The Camping Trip from Hell part 1
So it starts out, I’m going on a camping trip. I’m feeling that pull back to nature. Naturally, I just flow with it. I invite everyone I know to come, but only 2 agree, the unfortunate bastards. So my boyfriend, Vega, and I head out to the Appalachian Trail- AT for all intensive purposes. (Oh please don’t get any ideas about a threesome Ducky) Vega is a Japanese exchange student, bless her heart. I wanted to show her an All-American camping trip before she left, because I thought she should have something memorable to look back on and tell her kids. We teamed up with my girl crush- Slovakia (she’s not Slovakian, she was in my UN class representing said country) - and her 3 friends.
Little did I know this was going to be 4 mile hike UPHILL. Now, I’m not heavy by any means, but after this I’m starting to feel like I weigh about 200 lbs. Oh wait, did I mention I have a humongous backpack on? Filled with enough food and supplies for probably a 3 day hike? Curses… Therefore, I did weigh 200 lbs according to my legs. My legs are on fire, and I can’t breathe. Every step is agony. It’s a chilly spring day, yet I’m sweating like a beast of burden. I’m grabbing nearby bushes and twigs trying to pull myself inch by inch up this Mt. Everest of Virginia. My back is killing me and I'm wondering if I’m gonna make it. Finally, we get to a clearing that opens up and I stop and look at my watch- it’s been approximately 10 minutes. I can see my car. Should I break for it, run for the car, and yell behind me “HaHa Suckers!”?
Goddamn pride. I keep hiking.
Slovakia and her 3 friends hike ahead while I lead my two comrades at a slower pace. I stop every 20 minutes to catch my breath. As we get higher up, it starts to snow a little bit. Little flurries float through the air. Do I stop and think- “Hmm. Today might not be a good day to hike.”? Naaah. That’s for wankers.
Finally, we make it to the top. I have to admit the view was worth it. You could see Roanoke, and a farm directly below. It was magnificent. There was a misty fog that cast a pearlescent sheen over everything below. Yet it wasn’t difficult to see the whole mountain range. It was a different view than one might’ve seen during a cloudless day, but I think I liked it better. It suited my mood.
All along the hike Ducky quizzed Vega on how to say all sorts of things in Japanese, like “titties”, “boobs”, “ass”, and the like. He’s so cute. He really has that thirst for knowledge.
The campsite is .6 miles downhill on the other side. Once we get there we set up shop. Ducky is my hero from this point forward. He riggs up everything. Our tent, their tent, the tarps …even a tarp over the picnic table which he climbs trees to string up. He starts a fire. The girls and I gather wood. We build the fire, and then start cooking. It starts snowing more. We start drinking more. Note: the amount it snows should be relative to the amount of alcohol one should consume. This way, when it comes time to sleep you don’t realize how mutherfucking cold it is.
Little did I know this was going to be 4 mile hike UPHILL. Now, I’m not heavy by any means, but after this I’m starting to feel like I weigh about 200 lbs. Oh wait, did I mention I have a humongous backpack on? Filled with enough food and supplies for probably a 3 day hike? Curses… Therefore, I did weigh 200 lbs according to my legs. My legs are on fire, and I can’t breathe. Every step is agony. It’s a chilly spring day, yet I’m sweating like a beast of burden. I’m grabbing nearby bushes and twigs trying to pull myself inch by inch up this Mt. Everest of Virginia. My back is killing me and I'm wondering if I’m gonna make it. Finally, we get to a clearing that opens up and I stop and look at my watch- it’s been approximately 10 minutes. I can see my car. Should I break for it, run for the car, and yell behind me “HaHa Suckers!”?
Goddamn pride. I keep hiking.
Slovakia and her 3 friends hike ahead while I lead my two comrades at a slower pace. I stop every 20 minutes to catch my breath. As we get higher up, it starts to snow a little bit. Little flurries float through the air. Do I stop and think- “Hmm. Today might not be a good day to hike.”? Naaah. That’s for wankers.
Finally, we make it to the top. I have to admit the view was worth it. You could see Roanoke, and a farm directly below. It was magnificent. There was a misty fog that cast a pearlescent sheen over everything below. Yet it wasn’t difficult to see the whole mountain range. It was a different view than one might’ve seen during a cloudless day, but I think I liked it better. It suited my mood.
All along the hike Ducky quizzed Vega on how to say all sorts of things in Japanese, like “titties”, “boobs”, “ass”, and the like. He’s so cute. He really has that thirst for knowledge.
The campsite is .6 miles downhill on the other side. Once we get there we set up shop. Ducky is my hero from this point forward. He riggs up everything. Our tent, their tent, the tarps …even a tarp over the picnic table which he climbs trees to string up. He starts a fire. The girls and I gather wood. We build the fire, and then start cooking. It starts snowing more. We start drinking more. Note: the amount it snows should be relative to the amount of alcohol one should consume. This way, when it comes time to sleep you don’t realize how mutherfucking cold it is.
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