Here I am. Probably been about 3 years since I wrote in this thing. I guess it would be hard for me to sum up all the random wonderful happenings that has transpired since the last post, which pretty much confirmed my demise in Bolivia. Of corse, why wouldn't I have almost died down there, that was all part of the gig wasn't it, all partof the show. ANd for some odd reason I'm still here. Good ole fashion diarea used to kill people left and right, but E. coli and his gut slicing friends didn't wack me off (used in a mobster sense of the word), I'm pretty amazed how I'm still alive. Alive and in the middle of a quarter life crisis, which I presume is a bit of a normalcy when one is 27. Saturn is returning and I have to look like I know what the fuck I'm doing. No sense looking like a god-damn fool in front of a huge planet; they're the worst critics!
ANY hoo, I've been living on a tropical island in Hawaii, on the north shore of Kauai, living in a VW Van, surfing every time the sun comes up and working two wonderful jobs. Perfect life you might say! Sure, go ahead, say it, tis quite a picture perfect life style. But no amount of tropical island, asian beauties nor empty waves can assist a man in the middle of his god for saken saturn returning! Its all in the mind. Its all right now, in my pocket, clenched in my fist. I can't distract it anymore. Grounding? Maybe.Career? Maybe. Soulful direction; sure why not.
All this floods into my overly excited psyche in a rustic looking bar on a hill in Seattle. 1:00am, alone, walking back to my friends house I pop into this Austrian looking pub. The bar tender is this perfect looking black woman from Ethiopia. Her accent resembles french and a mix of Caribbean. Huge gold hoop ear rings dangle with innocent grace from a distant world. I order a beer and sit down, instantly asking her question about her home country, in which americans have such a thin bodied starving stereo-type mentality. We converse about coffee to "democracy", family and college, and love and drugs. Her smile keeps me there for a few more beers. I gather all and every part of my late night charm to convince her I'm a good person and not some bar hound trying to shag her thoughtlessly behind some damp dumpster. She's been here 4 years, about to finish college with a degree in computer engineering. She's smart and engertically aware I instantly pick up from her glowing eyes. "you live here?" she shyly asks. "can i see you again?" she says with a bar tender type confidence, but hidden in genuine attraction. "who knows. When I see me I'll tell him to go say hello" I said without thinking as I chugged the last of my amber ale. I wanted to envite her home to my "house" down the block. I wanted to tell her all my joys and concerns. I wanted to ask her questions about Africa until the sun came up and drink tea till the moon went down. I wanted to just hold this tall curvy black beauty and kiss her like she ment the world to me. But alas Sir Walker, I took none of the above roads, I nodded my head and gave a Maine made smile that only a resident of that state can muster up, and away I went alone down the leaf blown hill, cold in my nose, beer in my belly and a strange sadness on my face, which resembled a drunken smile. I'm on this ride solo this time, the crack head circus freaks are all passed out, the cotton candy is made of arsenic, the darts are dipped in frogs and my ferris wheel is run by gerbils. But who's isn't?
