Friday, August 22, 2008

November 28th, 2007 (Hotel Ingleterra)

I think if Vancouver is your mom, you're gonna have a tricky time making another city your wife. Maybe everybody wants to fuck their hometown some place new. I've been kinda fucked up ever since I had my best kiss 7 years ago with a girl who turned out to be a hooker. But I didn't know that going in. She worked at a cafe, went to UBC, her dad was a dentist. Lucky for me several drug stores didn't have to be swallowed on acct I didn't fuck her---but still, she left her mark. And it eats at me that the one and only thing she'd deprive a john is what stained and made me dismiss a bunch of girls who were otherwise pretty good for me. She had that Natalie Portman viciousness thing going from Closer, too---and she bore a pretty pleasing resemblance to Portman. Anyway...

A story I wrote about this girl nearly got in with Dave Eggers magazine while I've been over here in Havana. Just about. And they've asked for some more. And I've been working on "girl stories" lately. Henry Millerish tales of conquest with a dash of Kierkegard's Diary of a Seducer... even tho I've yet to be able to spell Kierkegard yet alone read that story. But I've heard the bastard surmised quite nicely and name dropping gets chicks. You have no idea the quanity of ethnic nude photography these notes generate. Actually none. But I know they're just holding back. I'm talking to YOU, Panama women.

All these girl stories take place at home (most of them, a few times I've flown other places, usually disasterously, sometimes otherwise), which is weird scenery to describe. I always feel a little shy writing anything about Vancouver even though it's a town that feels like the one you'd really wanna spend time with if you skipped class compared to other cities. People leave you alone, give you some room, are generally pretty nice. But then drugs kinda reduce me to a shy Tom Sawyer keen to eavesdrop and spy pretty things... so who knows.

There are three stories I'm gonna try with Eggers. One is about a weird fling at 11 with my cousin where I know she was gonna try something. And it nearly went through as a kinda real wet dream---but it didn't pan out. Her mom swiped her before anything untoward could happen. Obviously I'm counting on a little innocent incest sexually programming a young author being compelling subject matter for a SF based magazine's readership.

Another is about a pen pal I had last time I was down here 2 years ago. But the catch was she was permanently injured, quite savagely, while she was working on a cruiseship and a piece of the ship broke off and fell on her and crushed her spine. This relationship, from the get go, really felt an awful lot like joy riding on the Titanic, hanging off the rails. But I always wanted to see for myself that if things got really catistrophic, could you be like the orchestra on that ship when all the life boats were doled off for women and children and none for you so you just take how fucked up it all is and play until you get dunked under for keeps.

I can't make up my mind about the 3rd one. There was a drunk girl I found at 2am tossed out of a bar. Two American tourists were trying to pick her up so I walked her home and she was so drunk she was convinced I was a guardian angel. This made arriving at her door and her pushing really hard to get laid very very strange and unsettling. I went back the next day to where she worked to see if she was okay and she had no idea who I was. She was pretty indignant about the whole thing. Which pissed me off enough to remind her where she got the pack of cigarettes in her pocket when we both knew she had no money from the night before and they were my brand and not hers. 12 hour blackout carved a very strange expression on her face indeed.

Anyhow, no Cuban stuff today. Boohoo.

No comments: