Saturday, September 26, 2009
Hypnosis
and then just like that, they emerged from the swamp. emanating with them the most audibly tantalizing melodies humans could conceive. Bewitched by their music the people started to run, inexplicably forward into the past future and present, they co-existed between the fabrics of space time......
Saturday, September 12, 2009
An American Experience
Sitting on your front lawn,
being racist, drinking beers, till the break of dawn
Trash talking the local knaves,
its our spirits that let us save,
ourselves from our own madnesses
created deep down below
from sometime before
when, we may ever know
Theirs something free
about letting it be
seeing sides, and oppositions
and taking your respective positions
Where we come from
no one knows,
let us be free
or forever burn in effigy
being racist, drinking beers, till the break of dawn
Trash talking the local knaves,
its our spirits that let us save,
ourselves from our own madnesses
created deep down below
from sometime before
when, we may ever know
Theirs something free
about letting it be
seeing sides, and oppositions
and taking your respective positions
Where we come from
no one knows,
let us be free
or forever burn in effigy
From Burlington To Bermuda.............and Back Again
Ah, its a wonderful July afternoon in the hot sun, I do not however, find myself in a manic maze of poorly spaced shoe-box homes, but rather an island some 600 miles east of the United States called "Bermuda". Resting gallantly in the middle of the ocean this island comes complete with all of the amenities of the "civilized" world, grown men wearing knee high socks, greeters, meeters, bell hops, waiters, servers, beach attendants-a literal plethora of servants to accommodate your every request upon "your most pleasant stay"
Upon exiting the overcrowded, swine flu breeding ground (plane) I am immediately hit with the hot tarmac air steaming through my dreary rainy new york jeans and t-shirt. But not to worry, just several steps away large glass doors await me, opening into a corridor cooled to antarctic conditions, ah sweet civilization-right? Wrong.
Actually, flash forward to a week and a half later, I wake up naked with no sheets, in an empty white room with the doors locked. No recollection of before, the present haunts me with uncertainty. Of course, I'm in wonderful Burlington Vermont in the good old U.S. of A. (fuck yeah!) Air conditioning seems like a sweet reminder of luxury and waste, its absence burdens me with thick, searing, crisco-like humidity, and of course a puddle of sweat upon my "rebirth" from the drunken demon ramblings of the night before. If only I could transport myself to a week before, to the sterile clean tile floors of the "room-with-a-view" complete with room service and all of the unnecessary amenities that allowed me to perpetuate my laziness. But nay, nay, nay........
Slowly I sit upright and painstakingly look to my left and find my cell phone, with its blinking red beacon stabbing my tender bloodshot eyes. Trying to crawl and slide along my floor i roll off my deflated air mattress and try to awaken my phone from its rest- of course it freezes with the loading sign spinning endlessly to infinity.
Spinning, concurrent with my head, and my mental state as I take a visit to my friends "male brothel", a sprawling 8 bedroom mansion located just one block south of main street in Burlington. I ruggedly pull up expecting a normal house, and I am shocked with awe, inspiration, and an innate sense of nostalgia.
It was as if the party came and never left. There wraparound porch was jam packed with 1001 wonderfull stories of just how all of that shit may have possibly ammassed there. Words can never fully convey the madness of there porch. Let me begin by saying this, there was seafood:mussells half eaten roasting in the hot sun. The smell of low tide permeated your senses whilst you looked over the madness of beer cans, ciggarette packs, lone shoes, underwear, ponchos, a parachute, mangled bicycles, a hammock, some stolen bar stools, and someones dirty and thoroughly soaked laundry. All leading up to a wide open door.................
Compare this to the on-lockdown conditions of the upper classes of Bermuda with there pastel-colored houses, expensive insurance, banking, and investment jobs, high real-estate prices, and there ever-increasing oppression towards the trapped working class. They seek to eek out the extraneous ends of there society; the dirty people who don't attract the famous tourists, there wealth, and the 16 dollar hamburger.
For some odd reason these contrasts made me realize that Burlington is a place for everyone and anyone who wants to let loose a little and live life in less unconstrained terms.
And how insincere is that hurmuphety attitude that native Bermudians, Conneticut Chateu-country types, and westchester winnies so instinctivley eminate from themselves? Is that who the are? There doors would certainly never be unlocked, there messes never made public. But underneath it all, were all quite the same.............
Jose Luiz
Upon exiting the overcrowded, swine flu breeding ground (plane) I am immediately hit with the hot tarmac air steaming through my dreary rainy new york jeans and t-shirt. But not to worry, just several steps away large glass doors await me, opening into a corridor cooled to antarctic conditions, ah sweet civilization-right? Wrong.
Actually, flash forward to a week and a half later, I wake up naked with no sheets, in an empty white room with the doors locked. No recollection of before, the present haunts me with uncertainty. Of course, I'm in wonderful Burlington Vermont in the good old U.S. of A. (fuck yeah!) Air conditioning seems like a sweet reminder of luxury and waste, its absence burdens me with thick, searing, crisco-like humidity, and of course a puddle of sweat upon my "rebirth" from the drunken demon ramblings of the night before. If only I could transport myself to a week before, to the sterile clean tile floors of the "room-with-a-view" complete with room service and all of the unnecessary amenities that allowed me to perpetuate my laziness. But nay, nay, nay........
Slowly I sit upright and painstakingly look to my left and find my cell phone, with its blinking red beacon stabbing my tender bloodshot eyes. Trying to crawl and slide along my floor i roll off my deflated air mattress and try to awaken my phone from its rest- of course it freezes with the loading sign spinning endlessly to infinity.
Spinning, concurrent with my head, and my mental state as I take a visit to my friends "male brothel", a sprawling 8 bedroom mansion located just one block south of main street in Burlington. I ruggedly pull up expecting a normal house, and I am shocked with awe, inspiration, and an innate sense of nostalgia.
It was as if the party came and never left. There wraparound porch was jam packed with 1001 wonderfull stories of just how all of that shit may have possibly ammassed there. Words can never fully convey the madness of there porch. Let me begin by saying this, there was seafood:mussells half eaten roasting in the hot sun. The smell of low tide permeated your senses whilst you looked over the madness of beer cans, ciggarette packs, lone shoes, underwear, ponchos, a parachute, mangled bicycles, a hammock, some stolen bar stools, and someones dirty and thoroughly soaked laundry. All leading up to a wide open door.................
Compare this to the on-lockdown conditions of the upper classes of Bermuda with there pastel-colored houses, expensive insurance, banking, and investment jobs, high real-estate prices, and there ever-increasing oppression towards the trapped working class. They seek to eek out the extraneous ends of there society; the dirty people who don't attract the famous tourists, there wealth, and the 16 dollar hamburger.
For some odd reason these contrasts made me realize that Burlington is a place for everyone and anyone who wants to let loose a little and live life in less unconstrained terms.
And how insincere is that hurmuphety attitude that native Bermudians, Conneticut Chateu-country types, and westchester winnies so instinctivley eminate from themselves? Is that who the are? There doors would certainly never be unlocked, there messes never made public. But underneath it all, were all quite the same.............
Jose Luiz
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