Something In Her Way.

I thought it then, knew it when she disappeared.  This bird I knew when I was in Amalfi. Jennifer.  Don't know her last name, didn't think to care.  All I remember, her face, something in her stare that bled me.  It ripped through me.  All I remember, being inside her, watching her shake, feeling her quiver.  Those eyes.  Those fucking eyes.  I was electric.  For 2 weeks, we paired.  In cars, in alleys, in bedrooms we would never leave.  She was electric.

I didn't know anything about the pills we took.  I didn't know what had brought me to the Italian coast, but I was driving, fucked out of my mind and she was screaming at me and I couldn't hear a word of it.  Nothing was processing.  I was winding the coast in an old Alfa Romeo - topless - trying to hit a hundred miles an hour, screaming back I want to die I want to die I want to die. That much I remember. The cliffs were high.  I wanted so desperately to miss a turn, drive through the guardrails and fly away with her.  I wanted that to be it. I wanted to fucking end it and at every last second, I'd pull away - some guardian guiding my hand, pulling me back to the road.  I think she was egging me on.  She wanted me to do it.  I wanted to do it. Something in the pills, something in them bringing out something in the two of us, something vicious and exquisite and we both knew...everything too much.

We stopped.  We had smashed into a cliff.  Blood was running through her hairline, running through her dark strands.  Two days later, I would learn three of my ribs had cracked.  The car was fucked.  We fucked.  Her blood and my pain, everything so sobering and clear.  She told me then she loved me, the first and only time I had ever wanted to hear it in my life. We hitched a lift to Positano, got a room and stayed there, in bed, our hands and bodies twisted as the rain fell against our shutters and I thought that was it, our apologies and the end of me and anything I had ever thought I needed. 

When I woke, she was gone.  No note.  All I had left was the dried blood on her pillow. Fuck her.  Fuck her, all I could think - I would kill her if I ever found her again. Those words, those fucking words how dare she let slip.  I would kill her.  I'd take her back to Amalfi and show her my might, that it could be done, that I could put an end to everything - and be content, being with her...I'd tell her it was all for her - kiss her as we fell until the end found us.  I thought of the things I'd say, the things I'd do to touch her again, to have her there again knowing I'd never let go.  To tell her I'm never going to let go.

But I never saw her again. I knew I never would.

-- From my friend Romero, a friend of travels...that I received today --

"Durban.  I love you man.  Know that before everything. I'm sorry.  Jenny's dead, found her this morning.  It was her. Her. Nothing we could do. Nothing she left.  I'm sorry.  We all miss you. Come back soon.  I'm so sorry."  

Fuck The Burn.

He was sitting by the Eiffel Tower. This guy who would come to be known to me as The Burn. He was alone, kinda pathetic. I remember seeing him and wondering if he was fucking serious. He was writing in a fucking journal. Yeah, a journal.

I was waiting for two birds. That's the only reason you found me in Paris anywhere near the Eiffel Tower. I had previously met these two girls in Amsterdam. They were from Tokyo and there to get high for the weekend and wouldn't you know the three of us were the victims of overbooking. We had to share a loft, me and these two little beauties who were always wearing knee high, plaid socks. They were honestly always dressed as school girls, young ones, Asian nation ones. I wanted to fuck 'em straight away, both of them at the same time. I had to.

I bought bud, they had blow. Really excellent blow. Most narcotics found in Amsterdam can be considered prime to say the least. It was early in the night that first night and we were just starting to drink. I called a drug union, made theirs mine, mine theirs so I could hit a couple rails before we went out on the town. They didn't speak a lot of English, but my insistence made everything of theirs available to me, which was nice.

We went out, drank, smoked, bumped all night. At midnight, the shorter of the two gave me head in an alley, stopped right before I came. Knowing. Fucking knowing.

When we got back to the room around 3, it went right away. They started peeling each other's clothes off. They did it so sweet and gentle. I promised myself I would take note. I did. Then they took turns going down on each other. I watched them writhe and tease and play. It was one of the most magnificent things I'd ever seen. Then, they moved for me, ripped my shirt, took off my belt with their teeth. I was naked, kissing one from the side, looking down on another from above. She frowned, looking at me, waiting. Jesus Christ, I wasn't hard. I wasn't hard. Something was wrong.

She took me into her mouth. I think it was the taller one, but I had lost track. By now they were both on their knees, double team revival. Nothing was happening. Nothing. Not a movement. I didn't know what it was. I tried to explain. I said things like whiskey and blow and weed and that mystery yellow pill I dropped on Marnixstraat and fucking blue balls and double-fucking two Japanese school girls and the combination of everything but they didn't speak a lot of English.

The last thing I remember was watching them come for each other, sitting across the room in a rocking chair, praying it was all a dream, that I didn't actually fuck all of this up.

So there I was, waiting on a bench by the Eiffel Tower, waiting for redemption, waiting for these two girls to show up and knowing they never would. Things like that only happen once. I moved over, sat next to this person that someone called Riley. He offered me some bread and wine and I thought I could use him, this pretty faced, self-proclaiming "Adonis." What a fucking asshole. I liked him right away. I thought if we stuck together, I was gonna get laid and soon. I had been watching the way even French girls were behaving around him. Certainly, I thought he would be my ticket. We got really drunk that night.

Fuck the Burn.

Durban

Fuck The Burn. Coming Soon.