There was a telephone but I didn’t have any numbers to call...something black and blue was coming for me, something like a big ol’ fucked up ass......I was already nostalgic for Ramona and I knew that was an ominous sign...As ever, I made the week with little trouble and the mother returned home disenfranchised but aglow...and that prescient day on the beach loomed like the odor of bella donna...oat angel black sex vox...what was I in store for? I felt, unlike the general tourist population whom were impotent and doomed, like I was surging, picking up some vast energy from the slip-sea and preparing for some translucency on the make...Congruent with this perception, I decided to sacrifice a golden orb of vanity to the latent altar within...I gave it all up...everything except for Ramona...but that would all change soon anyway...I wouldn’t have any choice.
The Place, a new bar on stilts over the water, was full to brimming with people doing their best Dintjan, moving here and there; some dandling, some just seeing things out ...but it was a festive and pulsing mob and we all got down to dollar belikans and free shots from the barkeep... soon enough, Black was stringing together the latest rap and dance crazes and we all found ourselves reaching high and bouncing sex-mad in the middle of the floor...I could feel Crystal wanting to do her sad little hot grind up against my hips…there was a subtle competition always on between her and Ramona she wanted bad to get me to drift, play a little, push the Gregorian limits of proper¬ty... I wanted no part because, to be honest, I wasn’t attracted to her one lousy bit…In fact, I felt sorry for her...I could see the pain she carried fathoms away...and this drove her mad…I’m pretty sure she didn't like me either, but she wanted nothing so badly as to lure me to bed and literally fuck me to pieces...There she would have her reward...So I just mime danced everyone else...and so it went…
Lenny, the fuck brained pissy English party captain whom I always saw in a state of entire disrepair, was mad with moves and gusto that night...And the drinks would flow like the Thames when he was in the house with his pilot roomates...Lenny was alright, befriending my mom and her friends with no slobber, just candor...dancing the Paddington frisk or the Tyburn jig, he was a dancing dog shirtless and soaked with sweat and booze... I watched him with his mad Mick and Banjo, with a nose broken by this fist of a queer cudgel in a previous life...I stood there and basked—in my mind rang some twelve bar blues with the din of a hammond organ...I was high and ready to find the way to blue...
I was getting hurried and restless for the return of Ramona and I could feel the urge in my loins to drive French horses, black stallions, and rare ponies to and from my shed...So Black, Crystal and I got out of there and scrambled to Barefoot Iguana’s, to the giant disco where there were scores of night creatures moving the precious question of why, breaking down their resistances and urging each other on to greater infamy and shame...and we couldn’t get there fast enough...weaving through the front door coming in all of us sizing them up...color, size, drunkenness, habits, stance, pose... twenties of them, writhing and gesticulating, everywhere an ocean of parallel funk, hands going over thighs, smiles contorting once recent sad faces, drinks in hand sweat, jungle colors, ventilators, flip flops of small feet on the floorboards, a pisskopped dj screaming inanities over thumps and rolls, the somes and the fews and the pieces of everything always sin, always human, always just THERE...movements of rapid take-off, quick crashes, and every psychological malady...It was more than just flesh and carnal couplets, glee and escapism—it was burglary, larceny, and attempted rape...this was heavy duty ignorance, and I was game.
I was now standing half short-wave in the corner watching it boil, looking for the glad-eye of my blue bender, the hear and smell of the law and averages of the human condition...Trembling like a breeze I could feel my ears having enough and I could feel the absurdity of the white man on an island...I began writing my note in the sand in my head “what little distraction possible present disappearing vapor in heavy air...” Heavy. Heavy brown. Heavy rain clouds and Heavy wet. Malt Liquor. And Bailey’s with cream. On ice…
saw her come in with another. They were both dark brown, chocolate brown, Belizian girls...black girls. I was all cock and breeches...steady in my gaze but not honky obvious...she was dressed in all white cotton from neck to mid-calf...beguiling innocent, pretty, like a Japanese paper lantern...Her body was aglow in some taut athleticism and her moves were like a thousand spy movies...sly, mysterious, measured and noble... Here I was, with the Ramona medal, 1st prize, and I trembled at following my restless eyes...sensing this, Black, giddy from gin, approached me in mid-gaze to find out what I wanted to drink AND who I was looking at...”that chick? In the white? You want me to hookitup for you braddah? Here, let me talk to her, find out what she is”... “Naw Black, it’s cool, I’ll get around to it...”
“Aww man all you boys say that man, that’s liquor for flour man...I’ll go and talk to her for you, see if you can buy her a drink...cool?” “OK man but I’m going over here, looking away, playing it cool, lime in my beer, watch the dancing, ok...that’s fucking embarrassing man...” “No, it’s the way it goes in Belize man, just let me take care of it...” I assumed the worst, waned and swayed, and tried not to watch as Black strolled most casually over to the woman and got right in her ear…I half-laughed aloud to no one but the gods of surgical anatomy and figured what the hell, it could only be what it could be...and it wasn’t long before Black was back at my side smiling wide and hempically, a man of genius, “Allright this is the deal...she thinks you’re cute and she wants you to buy her a drink”... “You’re full of shit Black, she didn’t say anything but ‘what the fuck does he want’, ‘that fool?’, shit.... “No man, I’m telling you, she wants you to come over and buy her a drink...she likes you”... “Black what the hell did you tell her? I saw you laughing it up with her, probably said, ‘hey baby I’d like to get in your cottons but my honky pal over there seems to have his little sights set on you...whadaya say can he spend some money on you? Free drinkies lady...” “Man, you got it all wrong...I’m working it for you, man, for you, see? C’mon, get over there and buy her some liquor and quit talking to me”...
-Michael Price
