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7/28/05 Not To Touch The Earth 
Hey Been a couple weeks since the last one, feels like a couple days, that fucking Bitner compressed time sense, I'm telling you, I wouldn't wish it on any of you. Gonna address the mail box here first, since that's the thing I always forget if I don’t get it out of the way, got a couple concerned e-mails about what's being seen as my growing "obsession" with wrestling. It's not an obsession, it's just something I've been doing a lot of lately, hence it's more prominent place in recent newsletters. And no, I'm not being deliberately stupid, or stupidly macho, continuing to wrestle while I'm hurt, I simply don't have the means to get these things fixed, nor the time to stop for however long it might take for them to heal, as much as they're going to, anyway, by themselves.
My mom. Thanks to everyone who wrote in expressing their concern, and passing along their good wishes. She had a stress test last week that didn't go as well as we'd have hoped, but she's still down with having the surgery, scheduled now for August 30th. So I guess we'll just have to wait and see. She's been having increasing abdominal discomfort recently, was feeling nauseous the other day when Sarah and I were out there, but I don't know how much of this is coming from the fact that she now knows she's got this whacking great tumor lodged in her guts. Although I guess that's irrelevant, if you feel sick, you feel sick. Rachel. To the best of my knowledge, she's having a wonderful time in Australia. Being merely her father I don't know this first hand, as she hasn't called me, but she has called Loretta a couple times, who reports Rachel is having a fantastic summer trip.
However, I've always believed a person should go into things with their eyes open-
Yeah, well . . . to (thankfully) change the subject, what's Bill been up to? How about, what's Bill drinking? Some PBR that I got earlier today in Huntington while shopping for Al. I realized just a while ago why I'm so attached to it even though it's not the best beer in the world, it's because it tastes like high school. Been a wet couple weeks since last issue, I haven't gotten pounded that much more than usual, but when I have been drinking, it's been in the prodigious amount range. For those of you asking about Al, he's not having his best summer ever, he misses my stabilizing influence, seriously. Spent Sunday night there and he was doing that jumping- literally- out of bed all through the night and run find Bill and then spew crazy talk gibberish thing that just makes me want to throw a net over him, that he hasn't done in a while. I absolutely hate it when he's like that, just wears the fuck out of him and me both.
Speaking of ho's, Robby was also complaining about how the Aristocrat has been going downhill- don't ask me fucking how, sure seemed like it was already at the bottom of the hill to me- this summer, only getting in one girl at a time, when he was there the previous week the girl was not much in the mood, complaining that she was sore after doing 18 guys the day before in 4 hours. Sore? I have no fucking doubt. Robby, of course, was all put out over her lack of enthusiasm. What he should've done is given her all the money he had on him and told her, "Get the hell out of here". I would've, straight up. Except I wouldn't have been there in the first place, and all the money I have on me wouldn't even buy her lunch.
Read a bunch of books recently, couple disappointing mysteries, biography on Ray Bradbury, who's had a damn good life, and he knows it, he can be way too sentimental, even mawkish, at times, but his good stuff is very good. Also a bio on Steve Earle cos someone I know had read it and said he reminded them of me. I've never been so insulted in my fucking life, and I'm being serious. Steve Earle comes across in this book as a marginally talented (in my opinion) self destructive, self centered asshole who deserves to have his swelled head kicked in by any one of the dozens of people he's fucked over in his life that he thinks it's okay to do cos he's an "artist". He makes Jim Morrison seem like a nice, caring soul- and he reminds you of ME? You know, April, in all seriousness, FUCK YOU. In a sensitive, caring way, of course.
As for the social life, went to Doug and Rosa's pool party, saw a lot of people I haven't seen in a very long time, including Doug's brother Mark, which led to a Movie Club at his house last Friday night. Again, I wasn't drinking cos I had Sarah with me, and I was working the next night (in Beaver, back when I was working for Abraxas I went down to Beckley to interview a kid, he didn't show, his P.O. told me he'd run away and the last he'd heard the kid was living in a box in Beaver, which prompted me to amuse myself on the ride back composing the country- sort of country/operetta actually, it was very Gilbert and Sullivan-ish- song "Living In A Box In Beaver", which I wish I'd taken the time to write down, cos I remember it as being really good. Of course, I remember most of my marriage as being really good, so who the fuck knows) but I probably should have been. Drinking, that is, in case you lost track of the first part of that extended sentence We watched Versus, which I've seen numerous good reviews for, those people all must have been on drugs. It's a damn mess, plotless yet convoluted (and no, don't ask me how that's possible, cos I don't know myself, but it was), and it was followed by Kung Pao, Enter The Fist which I thought was horrible, and totally pointless, one of those "Who the fuck thought THIS was a good idea?" films.
I do have to say, I've seen the preview for it twice now and, even though we all know how Bill feels about remakes, the new King Kong looks fucking great. I went damn near crazy when I saw the divine original when I was in first grade, I was ALL wound up, saw it on a Friday night, spent all weekend typing it up- yeah, I could read, write and type as a five year old first grader, I was a fucking prodigy, I'm telling you- went to school the next Monday and DEMANDED that Miss Westerfield (can you remember the name of your first grade teacher?) let me read it to the class. She was a nice lady, and she did, but it wasn't enough, that day at recess I'm trying to re-enact the Kong/T. Rex fight- I was Kong- with Ronny Darnell and I get way too into it and actually try to twist off his head, and when that fails, pull off his jaw. Even in those much less woosey days you couldn't get away with that kinda shit on the playground, and I got sent to the principal's- Mrs. Bailey- office.
Billy: King Kong. I jump up and start waving my arms around like King Kong, she must've thought I was trying to attack her or something cos she starts hollering herself and the next thing I know Mr. Kirshner, the Phys Ed teacher, has me by the back of the neck and my feet are off the ground, and then I'm sitting in the cafeteria until my Dad can come get me. And when he does, and I explain what happened, he, in purest Homer Simpson, says, "I'll King Kong you" and spanks the absolute bejeezus out of me right there in the cafeteria. Still love that fucking movie, though. And speaking of films, DFZ was in Taylor books last Wednesday for Danny's DVD signing, it went really well, lots of people showed, afterward we all went to some bar, can't remember the name, it was on the upper end of Capital Street, had a good time discussing the upcoming DFZ film- which is tentatively scheduled to start filming here in Charleston in late September- I met the new director, Bill something, seems like a good guy, and very competent, but he doesn't drink, which scares me a little. Still, he might work out.
Word of the DFZ film is getting around to strange places, Danny got a call a few weeks ago from this agent representing a bunch of name wrestlers wanting to know if there were spots for them- only one we might even consider'd be Mick Foley, but I'm sure they'd all want too much money- he also heard this week from Brinke Stevens, she used to be married to "Rocketeer" creator Dave Stevens, and was the quintessential Scream Queen in about a million low budget films from the 80's and 90's. She and Danny are apparently good buddies of long standing, I had no fucking idea, she was asking about maybe a spot in the film, oh hell yeah. And does anyone else think this is as fucking bizarre as I do, all these fucking names wanting to be in the DF's movie?
Bill: She as hot in real life as she looks on the screen? Still another recent e-mail form Jynx, all excited, telling me she's gone out and had some professional promo photos shot. Oh no, dear. No, no, NO, that's not what we wanted at all. I don't care, I'm taking a camera with me this weekend, anyway. And now, since the response to the beginning of TSOA in last issue ("finally", I heard a lot of) got such an overwhelmingly positive response- "The way you write, it's almost like being there with you", thanks for the compliment, dear heart, but no, it's not at all like you were there with me, that would've been FINE, and a whole different trip entirely (and I'd have written about a whole different kind of scenery as well, believe it). So, lets resume our journey with . . . Thursday, May 19 We have to get up to at 6 am to catch our ride to the main bus station there in Dar- which H.P. Lovecraft used to write about, however unknowingly, only he called it Azathoth, The Crawling Chaos- where our bus to Arusha pulls out at 7 am. Feeling surprisingly good this morning considering how much I drank yesterday, take my last hot shower for a week, pass on breakfast- free or not, it's not worth taking the chance, not with an nine hour bus ride looking me in the face- and head on down to the bus station. Dar is a pretty big city, 4 million or so I'm told, and they're all down at the bus station this morning, and every single motherfucking one of them want to carry our bags for us the 30 feet or so we have to walk from our ride to our bus. Danny and I went around about this more than once while over there, they've got no welfare system in Tanzania, all these guys that swarm you wanting to sell you something, or provide some service, are just trying to support themselves, I've got no problem with that, in fact I sympathize, truly. And if it was something I actually wanted or needed, I'd buy it. But by the same token, "no" means fucking "no", I don't mind you asking, but when I say "No thanks" and you try to jerk the bag out of my hand anyway, I'm really sorry how that elbow caught you in the nose, cos I'm sure you've got no public health system either, but dammit, listen next time. We pretty much literally fought our way onto the bus- other than that one elbow, no blows were actually struck, but there was plenty of pushing and shoving on both sides. Doug takes it all in stride- I think he pretty much takes everything in stride- but Mike's already looking a little wild eyed. We were advised by Heather the night before to take the "luxury bus", costing all of $14 for a 450 km trip, and boy, am I damn glad we did. I see a few non- luxury buses pull out while we're waiting, people crammed so tight into them that they're literally spilling out the windows, and maybe 10- 15 people clinging precariously to the top. It's fucking unreal, but now I understand something I never could before, why you sometimes hear on the news, "Bus crash in Africa kills 150 people"- it’s cos they've got 150 people on the fucking bus. Crazy. Heather also told us you can bring animals on the non-luxury buses, she's ridden buses with dogs and chickens and goats on them, and I believe every word. Our is bus is full, but not overfull, one person to a seat, no livestock. The seats are somewhere between school bus and Greyhound, not really that bad, but nothing you really want to sit in for nine hours, either. And it's HOT on this bus- no, luxury does not include air conditioning- especially when it's stopped, which it does about every 10 miles or so, all the long way to Arusha. The buses are swarmed at all these stops by people wanting to sell ANYTHING- usually produce, oranges and nuts mostly, or wooden carvings, but I saw some bizarre ass shit as well, one guy was hawking a lawn mower, what the fuck, like you're gonna pass that through the window of a bus?! I was able to snag a window seat, so at least I had that much relief, a little wind in my face when the bus was moving, hot and diesel fume laden though it was.
A couple hours into the trip we get a free hot Coke- luxury, indeed. They're playing some crazy ass movie on the little TV screens- which I'd trade for some AC in a heartbeat- but I can’t follow it, something about people dancing, then shooting each other, then the survivors all dancing again. There's no toilet on the bus- again, there's luxury, and then there's luxury- but twice, once in the morning, and once in the afternoon, the bus pulls off to the side of the road in fairly secluded areas and every one so inclined gets off and does their business there by the road side. The women sort of go into the bushes, but not really, I could've seen quite a bit more than I'd wanted to had I not turned my head, same with the guys who needed to squat. About noon we stop at an actual rest stop in- fuck, I forgot the name of the town, started with an "M". Got a bar and a restaurant there, I'm still not inclined to risk a meal, but I do get a Safari- I was getting pretty dry by this time, I also grab a huge bag of fresh roasted cashews from this vendor to eat on the bus, could not resist the aroma even though nuts and beer aren't the safest of travel fare. They were absolutely delicious, a bag that size would've have cost five bucks easy here in the States, I got them and the beer for less than a buck. A lot of vendors are selling these green oranges, which they'll peel and slice in half for you, they smell and look refreshing as hell, but I decline, which was one of the more fortuitous decisions I make the entire trip, since they turn out to be almost instant, explosive diarrhea for the people in our party who try some later. We get a kick out of this guy walking around in this polyester shirt covered with pictures of Saddam Hussein, we were going to buy it off him, literally, but he wandered off into the crowd and we couldn't find him, we also have fun checking out all the t-shirts the local guys are wearing, competing to see who can find the most improbable- we saw Yanni shirts, Harley Davidson shirts, and one baseball jersey, "Barboursville Baseball". So now you know where at least some of your donated clothing ends up. I thought it was kind of cool, actually.
Danny warned us about Arusha before we left, says it's a genuinely bad place, considered to be the second most dangerous city for travelers in east Africa after Nairobi, and he should know. He gave us this big lecture about what not to do while we were in town, which was pretty much anything other than stay in our rooms and wait to be picked up in the morning by the safari guys. The safari guys reinforce this when they meet us at the bus station and drive us to our overnight digs- the King William, not the place we were originally booked at- even offering to get some food and bring it to us. Nah, we're big boys, we'll be okay. Our original plan was to just grab some food and beer, bring it back to our rooms, and spend the night in, as advised. However, there's a big sign in the lobby of the KW stating "NO ALCOHOL IN ROOMS", and since the KW is run by a couple of surly Muslim fucks, we decide not to press the issue (I was outvoted, 2 to 1). There's also a big sign on the stairs, "No Women Of Immoral Turpitude Allowed In Rooms!", and then in the hallway outside our rooms, "AIDS- God Isn't Fooling Around, And You Shouldn't Be Either". Jesus, what a bunch of kill joys. We only get two rooms instead of the three we were supposed to, Mike is still looking and acting a little buggy, so we let him have the room to himself. Each room has one double bed in it, and maybe six inches of clearance on either side, and at the foot of the bed. These are SMALL rooms. If you climb across the bed, on the other side is a door which leads to the bathroom, a sitter, amazingly, which flushes by this incredibly complicated system involving a coat hanger and a lot of ingenuity on the flusher's part. The bathroom is about the size of a shower stall, which makes sense, since it also is the shower stall, there's a shower head sticking out of the wall across from, but still pretty much above, the toilet, one stop shopping indeed. Time for beer and eats. Arusha to me looks just like Dar- crowded as FUCK, hot, dusty, loud, people driving like they're crazy, business as usual. I don’t feel particularly threatened. There's a sign out front for "Arusha Pizza Hut. Best Pizza In Africa". How can we pass that up, especially since it's just a block from the KW, and if they sell pizza, surely to fuck they sell beer. We, as I'm coming to expect, are again swarmed- I use this word repeatedly cos it's far and away the most appropriate- as we try to make our way to Arusha Pizza Hut. Mike and Doug's responses couldn't be more opposite. Mike's a nervous wreck, "Goddamn, this is just like 'Black Hawk Down', I'd feel a lot better if I was packing heat", Doug, who never met a stranger, wants to engage them all in conversation, "Hey, buddy, we're from the US, where you from?" Uh, right here? Doug asks this one guy, who's industriously, if futilely, trying to sell him this extension cord, in all seriousness, "Hey, man, you ever been to Prague?" Mike and I just stopped in our tracks, dumbfounded. This guy has never been farther than a half mile from where he's now standing, I'd bet my life, and Doug sincerely asks him if he's ever been to Prague. Hilarious. My way of dealing with the swarmers is just to physically push my way through. This doesn't sit too well with Mike- "Jesus, Bill, don’t piss 'em off", or Doug- "You don’t have to be so mean to 'em Bill, they're not hurting anybody"- but it's what works best for me, so I do it. This one guy asks where we're going, Doug tells him Pizza Hut (also that we're from WV- "that's in the United States, you ever heard of it?"- and that we're going on safari in the morning, and I'm sure if he'd had a bit more time, he'd have told him his shoe size, and about how his grandma likes to suck eggs), this guy tries to steer us someplace else- "ORIGINAL Arusha Pizza Hut" is I think what he said, some other guy who's trailing us hears this, takes up for APH, the next thing I know they grab one another and start rolling around there in the dirt. Doug wants to break it up, "Keep moving, buddy" is what I tell him, and we make it to the relative peace of Arusha Pizza Hut. First thing we all order are 1.5 liter bottles of water. I had no idea just how hot and dehydrated I was until the contents of that bottle vanished in about a minute. Thirsty, you bet. Now for a Safari, and a pizza. You can get 11 different kinds of pizza here, 9 of which come with fish on them. Not on a fucking dare. I get a simple pizza margarita, which turns out to be excellent, they got a brick oven there that they bake them in- which does wonders for the heat level inside, as you can imagine- but I make the mistake of not scraping the green peppers off mine, like Mike and Doug did theirs. The peppers were relatively raw, and we'd been warned about eating even the slightest bit of raw produce, but I figured it would be okay, hell there wasn't that much on there. Figured wrong. I was kicked back, on my third Safari and really enjoying not being on that fucking luxury bus when my gut rumbled, and- "Doug, give me the key to the room. QUICK". The sprint back to the room was uneventful, and when I felt better, I headed back to join my buds at APH- NOT OAPH, and I'll fight ya over it. Nobody bothered me on the run back to the room, probably cos they couldn't have caught me, but on the walk back to APH, it was now dark, I was alone, and the swarmers were more persistent and aggressive. This one pimp looking guy grabs me by the arm, which I don't like. "You want woman?" he asks I shake him off my arm. "No, I don't want a woman. I don’t even like women." He grabs my arm again. I'm starting to get a little pissed off. "You like woman?" he insists. "NO! They're pains in the fucking ass." He smiles broadly. "You like ass, right? I find you ass," and tries to tug me toward this alley. See, again, this is where Danny and I part ways, when I say "no" all polite and they don’t listen, THEY'RE the ones who are in the wrong, not me. And whatever happens is whatever fucking happens. "Man, FUCK OFF," and I give him a shove, not super hard, but hard, on his bony chest, he staggers back a step, and disappears. I get a brief glimpse of the bottoms of his feet as he goes backward into this big hole. Danny had also warned us about these big holes in and around the streets of Arusha- don't know why they're there, they just are, it's an Africa thing, Doug had almost stepped in one earlier. I have no idea what became of the guy- I never saw him again, or in truth even heard him hit bottom. I don’t know whether he broke his fucking neck, or climbed back out to try to hook up the next guy coming by with some ass, I just kept walking back to the APH. I'm up for some more beer, but Mike's ready to leave, it's after dark, and he's been sweating nickels the whole time I was away, convinced something bad has befallen Bill. Just the shit from hell, is all, be glad you weren't there. We walk back to the KW, trailed by a couple of Doug's new friends he made while waiting on me to get back- Mike's scared of 'em, Bill shoves 'em into holes, and Doug wants to be their buddy. America in a nutshell. Doug says he wants a Tanzanian flag, this guy says he can get one, Mike and I are up for that as well, so he says he'll bring back three, that encourages this other guy to show us his batiks, he'd been hanging back a little, maybe afraid he'd end up head down in a big hole. The batiks are actually pretty impressive, these guys blow melted wax through straws onto fabric to create these pictures, they're colorful as fuck, I like 'em, a lot, so after a little bartering I get four of them- two of Kilimanjaro and animals for the girls, two of naked women for me- for 6000 TS- about five dollars. This guy seems happy, so I guess we both got a good deal. The other guy shows back up with the "flags", they're more like handkerchiefs, what the hell, we buy 'em anyway. Been a long day. Doug and I crawl into our shared bed and under our mosquito netting- I tell him if I grab him in my sleep and start humping him not to worry about it, just wake me up and I'll stop. Unsure if I'm kidding or not, Doug gets very uncomfortable, to the point where he tells me later he hardly slept all night for worrying I'd assault him in my sleep- no, I'm not funny, and yes, I am a prick. No, fuck it, I am funny. Tomorrow we start our safari. I can't fucking wait. Friday, May 20 I'm going up the country, baby don't you want to go? I don't sleep all that great myself- it was HOT in that room, boys, Africa hot- the Muslim call to prayer that they broadcast over the city wakes me up at 5 am, I'm just getting back to sleep when I hear some wailing in the bathroom, I'm thinking Doug has converted to Islam, no, he's just found out there's no hot water in the shower. I take a bunch of Imodium for breakfast, and after a refreshingly brisk- no, man, fuck it, it was COLD, don't ask me how, they must pump that water up from way underground- shower, we go down stairs and are met by Ellie (a guy), our cook, and Julius, our driver, both very good guys, we were damn lucky and happy to have 'em, Danny's known Ellie for about 10 years now. Feeling very much like the adventure man, I pile into the Land Rover along with everyone else, and we're off. About an hour out of town and we reach Arusha National Park. It's got this big, Jurassic Park style sign at the entrance. It's overcast this morning, even sprinkling sometimes, and relatively cool, 85 degrees or so, for this time of year you couldn't get better weather for the walking tour we're about to take. Incidentally, the seasons don't run hot and cold over here, they run wet and dry, we're just coming out of the rainy season, which is the best time to go on safari, so blind scheduling luck has been on our side. We take a walking tour through the park with an AK armed ranger, Bennett, nice guy, at one point we walk up on a field of grazing Cape buffalo, big fuckers, they stink, too, Mike's all concerned, "If they charge us that AK will never stop 'em", a moot point, cos they don't charge us. This was one of my favorite parts of the trip, it was like being on Kong Island for sure, the scenery was just unreal- got no stills, but I got a lot of it on DVD- it was all I could do to keep from jumping on Doug and trying to wrench his jaw off. We walk up this wicked steep trail- the sun's come out by now and it's ungodly hot, that damn sunlight that's so fucking strong it has weight, and I'm again about as thirsty as I've ever been in my life. But at the top we're rewarded by this view that just takes my fucking breath, the entire valley laid out before us, we can see Lake Manyara and Ngorogoro crater, and way off in the distance, Mt. Kilimanjaro. This is SO FUCKING COOL.
It's about a four hour drive to Lake Manyara, we drop off our stuff at a traveler's lodge there, pretty spartan, and all three of us to the same room but it's the fucking Hilton after the King William. I'm ready for a nap, but instead we head out for a brief spin in the Land Rover around the lake, see a bunch of baboons- something about those fuckers gets right up my ass, makes me wanna fight- elephants, giraffes, some hippos, shit load of monkeys and birds. Back to the lodge, it's starting to get dark- we're very near the equator, just 3 degrees South of it Mr. Gadget Man Mike tells us after looking at his GPS, the days here pretty much run twelve and twelve all year long, sun up and down around seven. Ellie starts on our dinner, we adjourn to the beer garden- open air, plastic lawn tables and chairs, fluorescent light tubes wired up in the trees- very neat place, very relaxing. We drink some beer until we're called to dinner, best meal I've had so far in Africa, onion soup, from scratch, and spaghetti Bolognese, we're eating in this communal dining area, while we're there this other tour group comes in, this Oriental guy and two blonds, one okay looking, and one hot as hell, wearing a white tank top, khaki shorts and hiking boots, she's got these exotic, almost slanted eyes, and she's built really well, nice trim athletic body with some great fucking tits. Even though they got there after us, they left before us, I tried to see which rooms they went into but couldn't, I kept fervently hoping they'd come out to the beer garden later cos I was all about buying at least one of them a beer, but they didn't. Doug, Mike and I went back out to the beer garden for just a tremendously relaxing evening, it wasn't too hot, had a nice breeze, we sat around kicking back and drinking Safari's and shooting the breeze till late into the night. Doug and Mike are both very cool guys, I could have done far, far worse in traveling companions. We talked some about the new arrivals, everyone agreeing that the one girl was smoking hot. We'd all heard them talking whatever foreign talk they'd been up to there in the dining area, Doug thought they were German, I think I'd heard them a little more clearly. B' They were speaking Russian We head back to the room and crawl under our nets, and I'm sure that room's light isn't out 30 seconds before we're all fast asleep. Saturday, May 21 Up early for a good breakfast- omelets, toast, with this great local fruit jelly, bananas, papaya, lots of hot tea cos I'm tired as fuck, and I can also use the fluid. Back to Lake Manyara- this is where John Wayne filmed Hatari, back when it was still Tanganyika. More great scenery, more animals, not many stills from here cos everyone was shooting film. Back to the lodge for lunch, Ellie outdoes himself, he's gotten hold of some fresh Nile Perch from the lake- I'm afraid it'll be coarse, cos those fuckers are HUGE- but it's not, it's delicious, best fish I've ever eaten in my entire life, Mike and Doug said the same thing, along with some cauliflower, carrots and green beans in this curry sauce, a salad- Ellie makes sure he tells us he washed the produce in water he boiled himself, he's a fucking treasure, this guy, and one hell of a cook. We're going out for one more spin around the lake starting about 4, we can nap or drink the afternoon away, we opt to drink- hey, I'll sleep when I'm fucking dead- another good afternoon spent hanging in the beer garden, we're on the lookout for our group from last night, we never see them, and then it's back in the Rover for still more cool animals and scenery. We get back to the lodge for dinner, come into the dining hall, and there they sit. Fuck it, I'm not wasting any more time. I go over and introduce myself, the Oriental guy's name is Luke- it was all I could do not to shout, "Who fucking cares?", Miss Hottie is Natalia, the other girl- who's got stick in the mud written all over her- is named Eva something, it shoulda been Eva fucking Destruction for all the damn heart-and something else- ache she's gonna end up causing me. And they are from Russia, all 3 of 'em. I invite 'em to join us in the beer garden after dinner, Luke declines- perfect- Natalia wants to, Eva doesn't, but Nat talks her into it. We go to the beer garden, I get a seat by Natalia and we all sit around throwing down Safari's and getting to know one another, I'm working it HARD, and Doug, genuinely cool motherfucker that he is, backs off and tries, with no success, to get Eva warmed up, it wasn't him, it was her, she was not happy hanging with us, and just wanted to get back to their room. About nine this music starts up, we figure it’s coming from this place we saw on the way in- the lodge was located in this little sort of settlement- that looked sort of like a fort, called The Black Scorpion (Simply The Best). It wasn't too far from the beer garden, me and Doug and (God love her heart) Natalia decide to walk over and check it out and maybe, as Doug says, get our groove on. Eva Stick in the Mud protests vigorously, but trails along, Mike decides to go back to the room, he rationalizes it by saying it's because he'd be a fifth wheel, and he's married anyway- what, married guys can't go to Tanzanian discos?- but I think a lot of it was he was still seeing murderous Africans behind every palm tree (and he wasn't packing heat), in fact he tried really hard to talk me and Doug out of going, "You guys are going to get killed going to a place like that". Nah, fuck it, the ones Doug can't make friends with I'll push down a hole. We get to the Black Scorpion and pass through this big metal gate, I felt like Captain Gallant storming some Muslim fortress, inside we find a big, open air dance area and bar, there are maybe 100 people inside- 90 guys, 10 women, we being the only white folk, there's some loud, generic dance music playing. We catch a few glances our way but nothing I can see to worry about, mostly just curious is what I'm picking up. We go up to the bar, get some beers and stools, Eva is not having a good time and is determined to see that no on else does either. I see these IV bags being delivered to various tables from behind the bar, that are then snipped open and poured into glasses of Coke or whatever, it's konyagi, cashew gin, well, we've certainly got to try that, I get a round for me, Doug and Nat- Eva can go over in the corner and fuck herself- it's good, surprisingly smooth, considering how raw it smells. Nat likes it, so I buy her another (no fool me). Natalia and I give the dance floor a work out on a couple songs, I've got a nice glow going, and so does Nat, we walk off the floor after out last dance hand in hand, Doug very frustrated that Eva won't dance a damn lick, I get a Safari and take it over to the DJ. I give it to him, he gives me a big smile and shakes my hand, "Where from?" he asks, "US" I say, he gives me a big thumb up, cool. I say to him- B: The next song you play, I want you to play a slow song. Jesus, never mind . . . You can slow dance to a fast song, you just have to listen for the slow dance beat within all the fast stuff, and move to it. So I get with Natalia, tell her, "The next song is probably going to be a fast song, but I want to slow dance to it, okay?" "What?" Jesus Christ, do I FUCKING STUTTER?! The next song starts- fast, right- and we get out on the floor and she starts shaking it, "No, baby, no, not like that . . . I want to dance like this". I take her in my arms, she gives me a puzzled look but goes along, we start moving together, up close and slowly, and she gets it, and it's fucking sweet. There's a soft breeze blowing, smelling of banana and pineapple and coconut, the air smells like some drink that should have a paper umbrella stuck in it, and even though I'm moving slow I've got this pumped up music shooting through me, I've got a head full of konyagi and beer and a beautiful Russian girl in my arms, I look up at all the African stars shining down right then on no one but me, and I feel so fucking ALIVE. It's a wonderful moment. It's times like this that make me say I wouldn't trade being Bill fucking Bitner for being anyone else on this planet. We come off the floor and I'm walking on air, it was as nice a dance as I've ever had with anyone, but it was the last fucking straw for that damnable Eva, who rattles all this shit off in Russian to Nat, they converse for a bit, and then Nat says they have to go. Say WHAT? I try to talk her out of it, but no fucking go. I do insist on walking them back to the lodge. Back outside their room Eva tries to get Nat to go inside with her, no fucking way, Bill wins this one, Natalia stays outside with me to say good night. We start kissing before Eva's even got the door shut good behind her, Natalia is what I call a hungry kisser, lots of mouth action, I'm liking it. I mean, I'm REALLY liking it. I do my absolute best to try and talk Nat into coming with me back to my room- not sure what I'm going to do with Mike if she agrees, toss him out on his protesting ear, I guess, but I'll cross that bridge when- oh, please, Jesus, please, I'll be good- I get to it. She's loving on me something serious, but every time our lips part she's saying, "Oh no, my sweet Beel, no, I can not, I just can not." Yeah, well if you can not, you just can not, then why are you grinding against me like you can, you just can? I have a theory that women, even if they have no interest in actually sticking it inside them, just like rubbing up against a hard dick. I think it's the same impulse that makes a cat rub against your leg, they can't fucking help it. All good things eventually end, and finally Natalia pulls away, tells me, "You are so much fun, Beel, please be careful" and goes into her room, and that was fucking that, I never saw her again, they left the next morning before we even got up. I'm standing there frustrated out of my mind, easily as frustrated as I've been in oh, say, seven months, it's takes everything I've got to keep from getting down on all fours and howling like a wild fucking animal. As it is, I get down and bang my head on the ground a few times, before making my uncomfortable way- I have to stop halfway there and reach in and untangle myself, male underwear was not designed with any consideration at all given to getting erections in them - back to the Black Scorpion. Doug is still sitting there at the bar smiling, amidst a bunch of his new African friends. I love this guy, seriously. D: How'd it go? The night- the night in Tanzania I mean- is far from over, but this night here in real time is, I'm crashing, so we'll pick up next issue where we left off, with a bowed but not broken Bill and the insanely good natured Doug still at the Black Scorpion (Simply the Best), deep in darkest Africa. True sailing is dead. Later Bill
|
But I will quit bitching about how much pain I'm in- which is soon
going to be little to none anyway, praise- well, Jesus has nothing to do
with it. And I'll quit recounting the matches in so much detail, unless
people write in and say they miss it. Something funny happened the other
night in Oak Hill that I might recount later, other than that I'll just
say I've had three?- I think three- matches since the last NL, one of
which included fairly big name Beau James, The King Of Kingsport
Tennessee, I'm telling you, his fat ass looked more like The King Of The
All You Can Eat Fish Fry. I'm working HoP this weekend in Hagerstown, MD,
and let's talk about something else.
What makes opiate based pain killers so hellishly addictive is not
(just) the insanely wonderful way that they make you feel, but that they
so closely mimic our own endorphins that, once you start taking them, the
part of your brain that naturally makes endorphins shuts down. So that if
you decide, "Maybe I should get off of this shit", you're not
going to go back to square one where you started. Instead, you're going to
have to deal with whatever pain, mental or physical or spiritual, or
whichever combination thereof, that made you seek out chemical assistance
to deal with it in the first place, with the additional handicap of no
natural endorphinized help from your brain. Which I imagine is a pretty
fucked up place to be.
(BULLSHIT. YOU'VE ALWAYS BELIEVED IN THROWING YOURSELF HEAD FIRST INTO
THINGS, WITHOUT THOUGHT OR CARE OR HEED, SECURE IN THE GENUINELY INSANE
BELIEF "IT'LL BE FINE". WHICH IS INVARIABLY SOON FOLLOWED BY
"WHAT THE FUCK? HOW'D THAT HAPPEN?)
We had breakfast with Robby Monday morning, who I've just about had
enough of. Rachel didn't like him when she met him earlier this summer,
her terse summation of him, "he's stupid", and she's right, he's
a fucking moron. He was talking about Bob Pruett, who he doesn't like,
said about him, "He's like what that Andy Warbucks guy said,
everybody's looking for their moment of glory for five minutes". He
also constantly uses the expression "gun ho". Idiot.
While I was getting Al his Honey Nut Cheerios, I saw something I hadn't
seen before. Chocolate Lucky Charms. I can't even imagine the sugar
induced contortions you can get a kid to do on that shit. There should be
a CPS worker stationed in the fucking cereal aisle, and if they see you
buying that ungodly stuff, they should just be able to take your kid away
right there. Magically delicious, you fucking bet!
(OF COURSE).
Saw Fantastic Four before Movie Club, some things I liked- the Thing,
surprisingly, being no Chiklis fan, and the Human Torch- some things I
hated- like yet another pathetic Doctor Doom, Jessica Alba, a cutie pie
but horribly miscast, and the whole weak ass love triangle shit. Not bad,
but if you haven't already seen it I'd wait for the DVD, and then let
someone else rent it and go watch it at their house.
Mrs. Bailey kept asking me what got into me.
What might not work out is the money. Now that we're actually trying to
collect it, it's not coming in as fast as we'd like. At all. Danny keeps
telling me don't sweat it, that's the fucking movie business, get used to
it, we'll get it eventually, if we have to push filming back some, we just
push it back some. I don't want to sound like some spoiled brat, but I
DON'T WANT to push it back some, I want to fucking do it NOW, and Danny
telling me it took him two years to get all the money together for one of
his films is not what I fucking want to hear.
Anyway, I ask Danny about
Brinke-
The parts of Dar I see as we pull out of town look a lot like
Amandaville. Seriously, the same cinder block and stucco houses, some of
them are even that same hideous mint green color, the same run down and
trashy look to the yards, nothing real exotic here, other than the palms,
and other tropical plants- they do have some beautiful flowers over here-
growing around the houses.
From this M-town to Arusha was mostly country side, very pretty, an
occasional small farm- most looked to be either pineapple or banana, but
I'm not exactly a horticulturist, may've been something else entirely. As
the long, hot luxury bus ride drags on, I put my head against the window
for a brief nap that leaves me feeling worse when I wake up, headache-y
and dry mouthed, but finally we roll into Arusha about four that afternoon
We walk back down to where we left the guys and the Land Rover- the
entire tour took about five exhausting hours, Mike was struggling there at
the end, we were genuinely concerned he was going to heart attack or heat
stroke out on us. We eat a passable packed lunch, a greasy sausage burger
and some tough fried chicken, slippery cold chips (fries), some bananas,
and between the three of us, go through an 8 pack of liter bottles of
water.