Treks

 

 

 

  

 

Ptown

Isla Fuego

its hard to be late for something that promises to be such pleasure. the trains, cabs and ferries  stop shuttling anyone willing for such an adventure. its easy to get away in an island covered with bamboos and some other corn looking grass. in the middle of this island, a forest waits so serene, so peaceful. Some overused phrase about some impending storm neednt be inserted here. Also in half a mile this forest is with grainy floors of white sand and mud.  Some places have mud so rich it can nourish the skin. Such   gift never comes without a steep sacrifice.  trouble must lurk behind the mangroves it also inhabits, wild in its curlicues shadowing mysteries under its leaves.. He said his name was Joe. of course, mine is John. Really? after a brow raised with some suspicion.

Adam

Adam Senn isnt stalking me. I know for a fact that he lives around 8th avenue. As part owner of Il Bastardo he has plenty of reasons to be around where i am and not just for their divinely toxic margaritas. "thanks, Ill have mine sans salt. Gracias". 

Many times he has followed me or with his perfect timing I end up behind him and his wobbly strut.  As any aficionado of everything pleasing to the senses one cannot deny Mr. Senn's allure. Spanking Carmen Kass in a banded Gucci certainly proves the point. Lately he has made more presence other than his obssesion with me. Addy not so recently landed the spot of Dolce and Gabbanas main man for the sporty eu de parfum. I will certainly not argue that. Mr Senn scent smells sensational. 

Mr Senn has a dog, a large hairy thing undoubtedly ungrateful the he gets to slobber his masters calves. He walks him at around 10:30 in the morning, same time a I take my morning fix. In his cargo and t-shirt, guns loaded, his sunglasses reflect whats hes had his eye on: need I say who. Mr. Senn likes his caffeine on the venti and the hairy thing slobbers waist high on its hind. Since the beginning of summertime i have seen him more often than usual. rarely with the slobbery thing but sometimes with some other bitch in a collar.

Its hard for me to think why hed spend that day in the smoldering city fume. The only decent reason for this is that his AC has malfunctioned in the worst season. he sits in his apartment. Sweat slowly make their mark on the back of his shirt. Things get too clingy and moist. He takes them off, feeling the light breeze as he moves. Adam wonders. He sits, stands. he follows the light that has made its shape on his light oak floors. Beads form on the middle of his back. He feels their chill as they gather and roll in the crevice. He stops at the window. People walk and hold icy drinks. Yellow, red; a bicycle bucks through. The trees shake their leaves with the breeze. Adam leans, his thumb finds its rest on the elastic of his Dolce briefs.

And Walk

The city reached hyper levels of cray-ness. Yes, girl be trippin. She smoked those chickens out of their holes. At almost 100 degrees the choices were left with escaping to the forest for some shade and perhaps breeze atop a mountain. It started as a nice enough ride. I cant spell the gratitude for a car with an ac and even more grateful for a friend with a car.  City people rarely have one unless you frequent circles of distinguished men in notch lapel-ed summer blazers.  Their not difficult to spot. Search the street for one with such glistening hair, perhaps in salt&pepper made even more fragrant by their $70 pomade.

A friend mentioned how he found the scent of pomade a bit acrid like a dying ant swarmed tree. Does that explain the vintage top downs they speed around in on the highway? Lets not get lost here as we did on  the way to the forest. As i most of the time insist, any advice, suggestion i offer shouldn't be taken so lightly, for the truth is my natural instincts arent easy to challenge. Alas, we found ourselves at a proper parking lot when we were supposed to be parked at a random roadside entry, the ones unbeknownst to most and most beauty or at least a creek is only a few sweat drenched moments away.

 As aggravating it is to be in such a preventable situation the extra walk proved very entertaining. Also, quite exciting, as a friend and I were wearing, dare I admit, crocs. As anyone would know, these puppies arent made for any kind of strenuous footwork. Every other stride i feared my ankles would pay the price for some peoples misguided perceptions of my brilliant mapping skills. Yes, I take every excitement I can and lemonades are best with gin. Nothing can make ones heart race than fact of slow, wolf ravaged, extinction, yes? In the dark corner of my mind as i go through cobwebs and moth, my friends have left to find me rescue. A helecopter with a drop down cashmere hammock where i am to lay in pain, pass through the range and some vultures. Perhaps, a woodsman in the forest carries me in his mudstained arms, musk hovers around his chest. I couldnt reply in disbelief as he asks about my state. Beads slowly gather from his sideburns to his chin, the salty glistening liquid falls on my parched sunburnt torso.

I took a large swallow and never did deli water feel so divine. My eyes opened after after some hesitation. We'd all but exhausted our quota for fun and finally the brook was found. A venomous snake where we frolicked later on this trip... I had the luxury to breath such fresh air. Though frantically at every chance.

Weekness

Waking up in a strange house gives me both pleasure and hesitation. I can only hope in my first few minutes of that day nothing foolish ocurred that landed me in such a bed staring at such a view. I started what was an eventful Saturday on the bottom bunkbed at a house near a park. What a glorious day for golf it was. Birds cheered in delight. Crisp wind against the rushing cars was inimitable. Yes, youve heard it, sounds only present in such times of personal clarity and the rhythm of all thats meant to sing and dance and flutter do in unison. Dont give me that look, sweetie. It was not me; i was just there.

The day before was not much a delight. What else can i really say about a Friday at the office? No, professional pleasantries dont take that much toll, but with a bed like this how can one not feel so exhausted. A little disco nap does no harm, yes?

Pink Little Baby Tee

We had Tongs pre birthday party last weekend. All the whos who and the whats that were there. Everyone baked by the pool working on their golden tan, while i was making the largest cake that could fit in the oven. After much picture taking and candle blowing, it was also Tito Jimmy's pre birthday ( it seems that actual birthdays have become passe'. Dyou get the memo?),  talk went to presents. Tong mentioned his hesitations with electronics, ipod, i touch, eyelids, ipads, islands. I digress. He's worried that all these gadgets might start to distract him from other pleasures as he already has many, some of which I cant put in writing. Howard offered him his very own ipad only to be declined. Shallow gasps could be heard around the mahogany table, chocolate icing cracked and Hannah went for another slice.

Ive yet to get dear Tong a gift. I find that the best presents are either the most simple or complex. But what could that be in the case of our dearest? Since moving downtown he has expressed his dilemma with decorating. Perhaps some fancy window treatment, a rug or those japanese body pillows?