Drinking in Smoke

Having finally started reading Aldus Huxley's hallucinogenic interpretation of the Tibetan book of the Dead, not to mention having finished reading those benzedrine benders of ole Jack Kerouac, I've realised i've been conducting similar experiments of my own in literary excursions. Please allow me to submit you to several of these wandering passages of late night typing, fueled by some tamer drugs...


Alright Sammy! How are you doing you beautifully-hairy human being you? I’m just listening to Nicol taking issue with God in a drunken drawl. It’s got all me nostalgic juices flowing (sense and spelling are a problem by the way. I’ve just re-written everything twice to correct speeling, and the strange introduction of the word “fruit”. Fuck., I had to go back and get rid of the letter “W” and re-write fruit just then. Fuck. I did it again. I think, weither the “I” key is fucked or I’m drunk. Well either way, I’ve just used the I key millions of time, and I’m not going to correct shit anyomre, and I’ve just heard nico.l bark like a dog and chris(tina) shout fanny. OK, I’m reversing te tape. And, now that there is unchaotic silence I’m going to write much better. How’s you me old mucker. I though I’d embark (alrigh, I admit, I just re-corrected a v for a b there. No more corrections drunken talk). Aha. Yes, I thought I ‘d write you something as I’m pssed and happy like (this not correctin laugh is quite fun, I wonder if laughin correctly is fun. Excuse mem, I’m just going to rewind my tape eficiently in the tape macihine thingy. Ok, everythig is tricky caus the tape has braziliAN, DAMN THAT CAPS LOCK KEY, SHIT, wait shit I thought I’d tured that off. OK, I’ going to look at the screen and correct a little (although it’s less fun). Hello. It is (hold on) Ok I;’ve lost my clock but basically it’s some time which doesn’t involve sun and I was just listening to brazilian music. Yes it was a cheeky gap, with an alarm at the end (alright now I see you in some campsite ((must be spanish arrival holiday)) being woken up by tht. Now I thinkgetdistractedabout it it must be Yolanda-land, when you were falling asleep as we shared the walkmen and I maliciously let the tape run into that alarm bit and wake you up. Oh what guilty secrets we tuck away eh? Now then, before all that started there was somethig about nostalgia, and Cris playing the bass. Ah yes here we go, I can hear me playing the harmonica very loudly.

Oh bollocks it all became much less spontaneous in the last section. Here is a recondite (is that a word?( summary. Nicol is now talking about something gently stroking swedish aupairs in their red jackets. That’s what I’m talking about, chris makingbizarre vibrato noises on her bass, you plucking bizarre meoldys out of air and cider, nicol laying down the red carpet of verbasl carpentry. Bless him shit I’ve read the last line. Alright, pure me to key communcation now (and key to you and nicols “infinite symphony of no-one”). He gets fantastically bizarre if you listen to this taper enough. (I don’t intend to, twice is quite enough thsnk you)., Well anyway, I’ve just been drinking whiskey and coke with my bizarre neighbours (yes I did spell that with a w at first) again. (this includes, my bizareely gay neighbour and his aspirations to be a high-value transvestite (apprantly they chARge a mint in cadiz!), my down-stairs nay/bour with her 2 (mark that, TWO) tapes (about, and I admit this is an interrutpion-bacjk-editing-thing: “rumba classics and “its hits now2 or something)and hyper-active daughter. Us and a couple of bottles of coke and whiskey is enough for a diverting spanish night out. Today, on a more inter-spatial and equidistant note, is that I’ve been “netwworking” today, meeting handy dealers, people who were once called barbara abut are now called cloe (who I knew in muswell swill as B, and now as C the girlfriend of Jose, the younger brother of Antnoio who I’m quite sure you’ve met. Sorry, but vwenus and her caverbouns (I have to say that was meant to be cavernous hills. God that ws difficult). Alright, now everyoe’s making beeping, thumping, blooping noises which vibrate ina an very amusing way. Before they were singing about blue ventians. Ok, I can’t remember, but yu just distinctly have held a bizarre thrumming rhythm involving umming-ahhing and rollorering. To understnad this you may have to re-listen to this nosta-hype-algiarama of a tape (nearluy spoke spanish). PK, from this point on, I’m going to look back to check what I’ve beeen saying, but I’m reallynot going to correct anythintg. (s moere fun. /boollocks, I tried tow write “s’more” deliberately but it didn’t work. ) right, black chains are holding us down, but it;s quite funny. I have to pause now to skin up some nice fluffable ganj (notice how coherent am around ganj) and stop typing so loudly and disturbing my crossdresswannabe neighbouur.
Hold on.

Alright, it feels stupid to skin up, if only because I’ll loose the ability to type. But what the hey. See you in a mniute (ehen, and yes Iknow the W is missing, oh shit, I’ve looked back, and cris has just asked what bass chords you were picking out, and niols bones are aching (you know what I mean) (it’s so hard to type quitely quickly and drunkly) (niol and fil scripting are helping me write faster. Ha ha I just used the backspace twice in my confidence (too loud. Neighbouyr stirring, nicol doesn’t know what to do about it. Shit I’m playing the harmonica again. Come to spain soon you daft bastard, it makes you feel exceptionally joyessly nostalgic. It’s so cool when nicol hits his high notes, swings to some basser narrative, and then stops and leaves us playing the music… right spliff

Ok, this means I may have to rewind again, and thAlright, chris has shouted fanny again, so it’s the end of the tape. I go now to find the clock again. Aha it was hiding under my wallet the bastrd. Rught, fuc the noise of my tapping fingers, maricon soldier can toss and turn, I’m going to listen to some stirring midnight inventantory once again, tinged with brazilian funk. I know I’ve just spelled the word but with an “e” (at l;eat ii think it was a “but”. I’ now resolving to completely uphold my fascist restraint of not looking at what I’m typing (although I am doing “blind-correction” which eans backspacing wildyl. Heyhey I just looked, theat sais /2wildyl. Well no it didn’t. shit I’m cheating already. Ha I just backspaced. )

Ok, a ) seemed necessary there. Right, I’m just hearing leescratchperry tunes, just because I’ve got earphones nmy ears I reckon. (I do hope you want a letter in broken english, cos that’s what you’re getting (haha I can still operate the mote complicated buttons like *&and ‘. Right, I’m putting on some daft modern flamenco, skinning that spliff ipromised myself and coming back.
(and the n I will translate.)

I’m going to play you this tape sometime. I’t’s funky (and distracting, I’m skinning.) quietly quietly. Yeah, thought I didn’t have any tobacco. I know you’re empathising with this. Too loud!

Alright, what we need is some funky off beat rhythm, with the husky tones of a smokeaholic cutting the air like moses through butter, flamenco castenets played by a roundhipped reliabl senorita and no other expectations. That’ll be music. Spliff. Alrgiht, stop spliff. This is great music, silly musc for a travellin scene in “the film” talking of which there’s been things chugging along, so expect a trunk-load as soon as my arm lets me write up what I’ve written (alrightht and my brain. I’ve written 50 little-pages sincwe I’ve bben (been) here, and touched-up the computer bits ofr fun. And there’s a little pile of semi-nonsensical scribblings waiting for further analysis. But basically, there’s some dialogue, aand some ideas forming, and now the girl fro miphigeniA IS PLAING IN MY EAR AND I’M SURE I;M TYPINIG TOO LOUD. Ok, breifer key touces requried. When did it turn capitals. Ok spliff, I need patience to type ideas slowly (or a slow brain?!) (ehey I found them keys damn esaily) oh buggger I splilled some. No matter, the saxaphone s here (and he’s not cheesy either) (damn that space Br is loud.) OK I’m going to translate espanol for yoyuu cruely very soon. Alright, this guy’s just said that he sings “Cameroon” (or at least that’s what is seems) but he knows it and he does it to releive his heart. I got a feeling that “cameron” might not mean someone from Cameroon (but there’s another song I’ve ot somewhere about not eating “cameron” because it semlls bad. I don’t know) Anyway (again) I’m in spain. And they speak spanish here (the daft bastards) I did some “networkingg” today bby meeting some dealers (typin with on e hand, which id quiter, if less accurate and fast) This could explain whhy I’m smoking spliff nopw. The other reason is yhat I’m unemployed as noone has replied to my ads. The ggeezer on this song is now sayin “everything that I lke is iimmoral, illegal, or ot makes you fat ( the verb “engordar” to get fat, appears disproportaionally in spanish songs. Allright, im writing with two hands now_). Now not. They’re still getting fat from their illegal passtimes. Bless them.
When (alrigtht paragraph) when are you going to set up a graphic/visual production set-up so that we can make films eh? I;ve got this script ticking along, but things for the future will surely reqyuire powerful graphicsd and technics mixed with corporate freedom. Get moving ma, capitalist centre is the place to be to be a corporate flea (dancing between the shit and scree) You know I meANT TO say man. Damn that fullstop is still infornt of me. Aha, and the caplocks button could do with a lesso in etiquet too.

More paragraphs. That geezers just said “cameron” again in a completely differntt son. Now they’re singing about how her kisses are -well I don’t know- the blessing on his brow or something, but at anyrate (“escucha”him) she sings, and her musc opens your heart and makes you feel. Ah bless the itano’s cotton socks., they sing like naughty angels. Alright (thatis DEFinitely -my cpas- how they sohuld spell alright. Od they not?( with her brown skin (don’t sound so flash ni english) erm something about a counter current between them, he;s depressed, that she gives him her skin and her rhythm ,”suso un negro”, um don’t know, for how it sounds.

Alruight, my keys are clicking thy’re own rhythm, which is undoubtably pissing off my neighbour (early as the bagueterria calls him. At least he’s got bread hohoheehee). You should hear this tape, so I’mgoing to find a way to transmit it via computer (bahbah, bahbah, badubadipodubah” hey says, byut he n his skatting) “Que me dejas, que me dejes, con un ritom bueno, ahoro voy a saltar el pel ??” Well I can make head nor tail of it

Anyway, choloe, who was one barbara, says spanish phrases are limited and reptitious. I can’t decide. I think (“sabor” = flavor/taste) (american spelling because south america is america is the un-united states).

Oos, they’ve gone all smoootchy singing of cuba and the like (and how everything ‘s “basura”, which means rubbish, which is strange because “cuba” means bin). Oh I don’t know. They’re doing their iphigenia thing again, with strange brzilan parping sounsd in the background

Anyway, I think the genreal idea was that I hope you are sprouting hair as per normal and enjoying the tickling sensation this invokes in your skin. I equally am enjoying the smoothness of my elbows and anklebones (and my little muscle collection, which has been supplemented by strange mountain clmibng incients which I believe I recatiunted).

Ok, tyhis tape is officially weird. Not only do my earphones sweitch ears at random anywy, this music has now done a dance, turned upside down, vut on and out tree times in strnage ways, but now; it’s turned into extremadura. I know why this it is, but it;s still quite unexcusable. What’s worse is that the saxbit comes across quite well (that’s a good word, qute, sn’t it, depsite being blad and spelt like an alien word for phlegm. That’s a great way to spell a word now I come ot think abot it. But then again, I’m speeling to the man who came up wit hdogbreathsputm um sometyhing.

Oh dear, apprantly someone is alone, and there’s a bomb. No it’s ok I’ve changed the side. They’re ttalking about basuracubs otra bev. Um again.


Ok I should stop and read what I’ve read (and give my neighbour a break - although he deserves ounishment for using the blunt end of the psanish language last night against my sis. He’a been tryig to get me and david into bed ever sinve he mett us, and now he’s takin g he’s frustration out in strange ways. Nah, the truth is he’s a traditional eclectic-uncollected Alameda-railer with a bit of Andaluz sooth-sayingness (ok, it doesn’t scan, and god damn it the tapes cone Extremadura again. Still at least I’m keeping my neighbour awake as part of familial protection. Swat it’s all about (I tried to write “s’what”. And I had to remove an “f” -or somethin” from it to begi with. Anyway, I spoose I deserve to suffer sa bit of this extremadura-nostalgia, coos david gave it to me in exchange for bein put through some Pixies.

Ok, I’m goin to roll another spillf. But I want you to know, I’m not “enganchado” I’m just “disfrutand”. Damn, I really liked this song until it gets to the “bomb” part.

He heh eh

Ok, I’ve just taken a very bad phoyto, of my messy little desk wit a hand-painted chair waved vaguely in front of it. I plan to develop the film tomorrow and send this in an email tomorrow, so in theory. Wait. Maybe a lteer would make both those things morrep possible. No ok, you’re just not going to see that photo for a while (it’s not very ood anyway I suspect) #~Wow, I got suspect right (although I nearly spelled it completely differently.)

Ok, I should re read this and search for tobacco.

Essentials that have just occured while I’ve been away. I seriously lack toilet paper. (I also lack a cooking facility and hot water, but a fridge that works turned up today, so I’m not complaining)

I’m still not sure if I’m publishing anythin. I’ve been a wee bit to occupied at night to wake up early (and do things like meet ex-bosses and by water-heating gas bottles). Hey the sax is back, I like this tape again. Just for your peace of mind the tape is in a walkman. I knew yo’d worruy about my neighbour (I would too, he wants to earn money by wearing a wi g and a mininskirt. It wouldn’t be so bd if he didn’t have a load of ompetition, and ArnieSwarzenegarLesbien prossie as well, filling the local streets.

Damn, that sax has gone way again. I think thy’re hitting their instruments (beasts). Tobacco!
This is all just one long son. How strange.,
hmm nice reggae cut off. Aaahhhh all I w\ant to do, is play funky reggae and fuck like a canon medly. (or something) Anyways, reggae and fucking are as ever vital life compnoents, if only in their reprehensible absence and constant desireability.

Oh, this morning he threw himself out of bed. I believe I’m experiencing a sarcastic spanish blues song. Uh oh, he got out his harmonica (and coughed).

Um, ok, I’ve just scavanged some butts from my conversation with the neighbours. (If I’d conserved the “buts” I would’ve been here forever). Annyways, I now have a dubious tobacco collection which allows me to do this:

alright, I’m sure this tape has been one song now for half an hour, bit they’ve just sung “son’s of a bitch” and then gone back to a quite distracting offbeat bit.

Yes film, music, sex, (I manged towrite something like 2fs ulm xyz”, but I guess that must be standard.)

definitely still the same son.

Ok, should soon get back to perusing the scriptfiction. This place had been really good for writin so far 9eith room for drunken experiments too) Hmm, I may have to reconsider this “going back” rule having read that. let me just light this. Don’t worry, this should put me to sleep sooon.

Ok basically (it’s good that this machine puts in capitals automatically. Thwe song stopped! Maye the tape’s stopped? The tape’s stopped! Im’ going back to flamenco moderno.
I’m sure hotail wont be able to receive this letter if it’s to long so:


the film: has had it’s “english bit” worked out a lot more, with the section from the start to the sheep smuggling either written up or mapped out (with a few little neices, how you spell this?, “niches”, ah! Basically:

****

Now then now then. Write me something much shorter and more coherent so that I can know: (a) whether you are in Los Americos (b) what Juliette or the women-set are doing to your inner-pet © if you can type with hairy fingers like that.

Write now and solve these mysteries. I’m going to really go back and read this this time

(imagine the sound of a smacking mouth and a fade to close. Until the next time)

LT


fuck me 7 pages. I’m going to need galliano to get through this (or maybe that extremadura tape)

hastaluego

I’ve just remebered that I’ve got a bog-brush-holder with “BOG” written artistically on it, and that I’m very proud of it (well actually I saw it, but it’s the same thing).

Dearie me, I laughed, but only because I wrote it. Congratulations for making it to the end. G’night.

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