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love, world wide dirt
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
not just the name on the tags of your comfy khakis or your flannel insulated raincoat. it is a place, and more importantly, a state of mind. it is hazy and covered in cornish ruins before they packed up and dug into wisconsin like badgers and gave us their pies. it looks a little like middle earth. there is a stillwater pond on a beach there that is one of the most perfect places i've ever seen.
there is a cider that comes in three litre bottles goes for three pounds, nineteen. it is clear and bold and made with both sugars and sweeteners. it has an alcohol content of 7.5% and it is known as White Strike.
michael's mount is a - what do you call it - it's an island at high tide, but at low tide it's just a part of the beach. it looks like xanadu and the national trust charges six pounds for entry even after you spent half the day walking there, so fuck that noise jack. we go play bumper cars on the mainland and there is an evil girl in there who won't stop coming after us. they call me hal, they call me stacey.
some kid in killarney asked connor for a fag and he was like eleven so connor refused and the kid said, a bright orange balloon in his hand, "you come into our country, our town and you won't even give us a fag," and when connor told him to bugger off, the kid says, "what? i'll take your face off, you stupid motherfucker."
knew a peace i hadn't experienced in a long time after sleeping on a bus from liverpool to glasgow, having slept the night before in a train station in a town called Crewe that was either in England or Wales, taking turns sleeping with connor so we didn't miss our next train, get into glasgow at six in the morning, a cool comes over me as we walk down deserted streets and there is purple smoke coming out of a stack on hope street (not just pretty words). we would gladly consume those who wish to subdue us (not just pretty words). the bus driver called me curly.
i fought a princess who was beautiful and possessed by a demon in edinburgh (actually happened), i watched trainspotting in wales with the nicest people in the uk, i saw the childhood home of ringo star, i went to a beach party that seemed pulled from my dreams after i walked out of a movie theater in london and watched it get washed away by the tide, i got black out drunk on a ghost tour in scotland and shook my head in my own kind of approval when the redheaded tour guide said i had indeed seen spirits on the tour.
had a dream last night about a skinny, vampire-like blonde who refused me four topper's cheesesticks. fuck it all, i'm going outside.