These next few convos are gonna be short and at random times because I am a bottom feeder in the sewer of wifi hell. Or heaven. Or purgatory. They definitely have sewers in purgatory but not in heaven maybe – good book folks who have ascended don’t need to do nasty toilet shit.
We officially landed in Quva, Dee and me, around 10:00 am on Thursday, Jul 13. I was tired but didn’t sleep until Thursday night – awake for over twenty-four hours, was I? (I was!) Wednesday night excitement kept me up and by the time we got our room Thursday afternoon, I couldn’t sleep then either. The flight was about three hours but I didn’t sleep on the plane …
I can’t sleep around strangers but
Sex Worker Sam
I can have sex with them no problemo!
I’m in this un/packed phase. Being in between feels fine. Always in transit/ion. I wonder if I could live in a resort? But I already am looking forward to going home. I love that my room key is attached to my wrist like a bracelet – genius! For some reason, they only allow two people in the cigar lounge at a time. 🙁 I am going to ask why first chance I get.
Tonight I will walk about the resort after everyone’s gone to bed, sneaking into rooms and disfiguring all couples with the gall to PDA. Let’s see how inclined you are to PDA with your third-degree, burn unit no face-having ass!
“We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Viktor Frankl and ME
“I DON’T KNOW IF I’M THE BREAD GIVER, COMFORTER TYPE BUT I’D LOVE TO BE! HELL FUCKIN’ YEAH BITCH!”
The other best part about this resort – no children. No fuckin’ whiny, bawling, snot-nosed pieces of shit to listen to who are making everything they touch sticky and gross – but I did see a few men who make shit sticky and gross and cannot pick up their garbage and put it in a bin. They’re gonna get disfigured too. (in case you’re wondering).
Can’t use your hands to clean up muthafucka? Then you don’t need em! Why do some feel as if …
of/at service = personal maid
Often at work, people don’t put their dishes in the washing machine – There’s a fuckin’ sign right on the counter you shit! You been here long enough, don’t tell me you didn’t see it. And even if you can’t read, you illiterate douche, can you see the dishwasher you fuck!? It’s not there for decoration. People annoy me.
BTW: Dad sent me a few pictures of his childhood home. I will share when I return home. Also, I wrote two poems that are just meh, according to me, but I gonna post them anyway – no censoring myself. No censoring yourself either!
I LOVE THE MUSIC HERE – TOMORROW WE TRIP TO HAVANA.
Fri Jul 14, 2023
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