Posts Tagged ‘love’

When I was in Amsterdam, I tried mushrooms again.  And again.  I don’t want to say too much about the second time, though.  Here’s a visual approximation:

Right around the 29-second mark.

 

About that other trip: I brought my pen and paper and took notes at every stop along the way.  Later in the evening, I typed these hand-written scribbles and, finding them to be mostly nonsense the next day, thought it would be harmless to share.

3:30 PM:  Ate the mushroom while walking in the street.  The taste once again fills my nostrils after chewing. Caustic shit-taste fungus.
My body is beginning to heat up, as usual.  This seems to happen whether I’m exerting myself or not (i.e. walking or sitting still).  Ate more mushrooms.
Went back to the hostel a few hours later, left again, and suddenly I realized I was walking around in the rain aimlessly. I was crying. Strange.
Passed a KFC restaurant earlier, and stared up at the image of Colonel Sanders. He started crying blood.  Black streams of crusty blood.  I felt bad for him.  I think I will buy some of his food to cheer him up.
I went inside KFC and tried to order some food.  Thought I saw a rat scurry across the floor behind the counter. I looked over my shoulder at everyone else in line, but no one else seemed to have noticed.
I sat down at a booth and think about the rat.  Wonder if he escaped from their holding pen in the kitchen before they could batter him into a crsipy chicken tender.
I’m aware that other people in the restaurant are looking at me now.
World begins to spin at 1046
Colors are kind of breating
It’s like being drunk, and once again, my lungs feel heavy, like it’s hard to breathe
Slight shimmering
Legs feel like jelly again, but that could be because I’m just tired, as I was the first time when I tried this
World only tries to close in on it if I don’t pause to think about it and “hold it at bay”
Staring at a bouquet of roses and I just realized I think that they’re moving like they were squid arms, though I know that can’t be
My pupils are dilated
When I walk around is when I realize something is definitely out of the ordinary this time

Right here, I returned to the hostel again, and everything after this was typed into my laptop.

my desktop background is a photo of betty white holding twin lightsabers on the forests of Endor while the deceased cast of “The Golden Girls” looks on proudly, like blue Jedi ghosts.
This is important only because Betty White is currently melting.
1058: Just like it was when I tried the first time, my attention is turning more inward and my body feels almost numb and I almost lose the ability to see colors unless if I focus harder; it’s a slight numbing of colors
The flower stalks are still kind of just moving in the periphery for some reason.  Sitting in a coffeeshop.
I can type without any problems.
I wrapped heat around my body like a pyromancer

What happened after that?  I sat down in a dark alley under a large church steeple.  It continued to rain the whole night.  I slept it it off.

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GRAVE STONE OF THE DOG PARTHENOPE

“His owner has buried the dog Parthenope, that he played with, in gratitude for this happiness (Mutual) love is rewarding, like the one for this dog: Having been a friend to my owner, I have deserved this grave:

Looking at this, find yourself a worthy friend who is both ready to love you while you are still alive and also will care for your body (when you die).”

I’m still working on it, Parthenope.

 

GRAVE OF TRYPHAINE AND EPAPHRODEITOS

“Onesime [has erected this] in memory of his daughter Tryphaine and her own husband Epaphrodeitos: If someone [steals this], may he also be smashed completely with his family. Philippos has (also) erected this stele for his wife Tryphaine, who was his heart’s content.”

“I’m with stupid.”

Istanbul Archaeology Museums

After hanging out exclusively with goats for a week on the very off-season island of Santorini, one day I wondered how I would react if one of them began to like me as more than a friend.  Initially shrugging off the thought of something so unlikely, I found myself more wrapped up in it as the lonely days progressed.  Finally I decided to sit down and write this power ballad, sifting through my own feelings and hopefully explaining them to the amorous ungulate.

I call it “Bleating Heart.”

 

Oowee girl. 

 

Laughing in the fields with mouthfuls of oats

You were my favorite goat

Spring days spent running back and forth

The me of then did not yet know

 

I’m not sure how to break it to you

But I just came to play with you

And I really don’t mean to gloat

To me you’re just a goat

 

I mean, sure I think you’re cute and all

But it’s not worth the life I’d give up

Love for a small-town grazer

Me, out there a world player

 

I’m not about to let you convince me to

Even though your friends thought I’d want it too

So I really think you should know

To me you’re just a goat

 

Back when I first arrived in Japan three-and-a-half years ago, I was deeply in lust.  The cashier at my local McDonald’s (the one just past the rice fields) caught my eye and I wrote a power ballad on a series of napkins, lamenting the unattainable.  Although I later learned that she may have been, in fact, a teenager, that didn’t alter the fundamental dynamics of our relationship.  I associated McPork sandwiches with pleasure and those who handled my McPork sandwiches with all the trappings of a common streetwalker.  Pleasure was provided at a cost–120 yen for two buns–and I could scarcely hide the euphoria of interaction from my young students, who brought our relationship to a climax by confronting both of us at the counter: “Joshu, is she your type?”

“O damnation, children; it is not for you to bring into the light that which survives only when nurtured in the darkest recesses of our subconscious.”  Ours was the bread mold of love.

McDonald’s Girl, although your smile eventually faded as more stable and long-term relationships truly impacted more than my colon alone, one of whom is at the very heart of my trip around the world, I want to thank you for briefly making me feel like a schoolboy. I’ve thought about you and the fascinating 1:1 correspondence between food and romance.  I fear you would not recognize me anymore.  I’m much more confident.  I also hate your former employer.  And I don’t even really eat beef so much now.  But thanks to you, I once was lovin’ it.

 

Like this, except with more lotion.

 

To all the unrequited lovers out there, supersize your hearts and hear my sad story:

 

Ode to the McDonald’s Girl

Oh, McDonald’s Girl!

The way

You tilt your head

Your eyes light up

You stare at me

–And giggle!–

When I try to order every night, stammering

“Uhh, yes, good evening…I…umm…hmm…well…I want…”

But you

Just cut me off now,

Already knowing my order full well.

I pay you, briefly touching

And out from the fryer come

Two hot McPork sandwiches

My favorite.

Oh, you know me too well!

Just not Biblically,

But, oh,

How I would love to see you smile.

 

 

Oh, McDonald’s Girl!

I have been

So patient

Waiting in line for you

Behind all these other suitors.

How I

Would love for you to say,

“Welcome. Can I take your order?”

But until then

I wait,

Thinking

When will you let me

Have you to go?

Super-size our love?

Get free refills?

I want to do

Everything.

I’m lovin’ it.

 

 

Oh, McDonald’s Girl!

Why do you even ask?

You know

The only combo I want is

Me

And

You

And maybe

Your sister

Space permitting.

But please,

Hold the pickles.

Especially mine.

 

 

Oh, McDonald’s Girl!

Your food, it is

So bad

Yet it tastes

So good.

I wonder–

Is it cooked

With love?

Or is it

Something else–

Hydrogenated bean oil,

Perhaps?

But now there is no time,

Not to think

Not to muse

Not to ogle

Because my sandwiches

Are done,

Already.

Wow,

That’s the fastest

That’s ever happened,

I swear.

 

 

Oh, McDonald’s Girl!

I have to know:

Am I your only regular customer?

I sit at the booth and

I think about

The things I would do to you

If I knew your name

If I knew you consented

If I knew you were legal

But

Until I know your language,

I will never know you,

Biblically

Or otherwise.