http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYAJopwEYv8

ASBO ASBEEN

His been
I've seen
Its the ASBO

ASBEEN...

BLIND JOHN OF BOHEMIA

Rita, Where's your sister
Don't you miss her
Aren't you lonely

Cause your muvver
And your bruvver
Caught her win
that stupid pony

And his chest that
was so hairy
short and curly
like your pussy

That your muvva
caught him eating
with that mad mare
they call Lucy

Rita, Oh Rita....
Roger said as he was cumming
Roger, Oh Roger...
Rita said as she was rubbing

These were memories
she was thinking
whilst bowlin down the road

Yesterdays tomorrow
taking overload

Working out a way
She could live without sum pain

Thinking of the day
that her man would take the strain

To delete and erase
these series of affairs

To re-trace a dignity
To make her want to care

SHE WAS FLY

She was fly
Skyhighfly

like a bird of the beast
expansion of the east

and the nest of her crib
where she'd lay down

her head
nuff said

GRINGA EMES BACK IN THE SMOKE

Two step tone sandwich
with a side order of fries
one embassy king
whilst I'm doing up my flies

3 pounds of bacon
for the morning of the night before
5 pounds for my journey
as I'm walking out the door

six minutes of silence
as my laces come undone
3 minutes of sweating
I'm late, I have to run

Five blocks of gut rot
as my innards begin to squeeze
memories of my evening
being crouched on my knees

a smile in my hand
and a place in my mind
sucked into a black hole
as I leave this world behind

The woman sat in front of me
is giving me the eye
I'm wearing a low cut top today
I'm sweating, but I'm fly

I flick my hair back recklessly
and notice the man behind
I overhear his walkman
it makes me wanna grind

The light is bearing nearer
as my stance it takes a cause
I throw a little smile at him
as I am walking out the doors

Cidade De Deus

So as the days multiply, so do the experiences and its kind of hard to keep up. There’s no natural place to store these happenings, nor is there anyway to make real sense of them. They just kind of happen and you find yourself three days later thinking…’What the fuck’, ‘How am I alive’ and ‘Who am I again?’

One of those very instances happened last week when I paid a trip to Cidade de Deus. Yes, the film, but oh, so so much more. Flown there on the back of a motorbike, and having no biking etiquette at all, well, naturally, I burnt all the skin from my ankles as soon as I got on. Holding back the pain through clenched teeth, I endured my skin melting for at least an hour. Whilst Criss crossing between every nutter known to man, my helmeted little head flapped like a wotsit in a windstorm. How I arrived in one piece is still quite simply a miracle. 

Note to self. NEVER ride on the back of a motorbike in Rio. Either you will die or you will lose all control of your bladder and neither is a good look in my eyes. 

Once safely located within the walls of reason, Lealmir’s front yard, I  proceeded to consume more beer than humanly possible. Now, I don’t really drink beer. Put it down to a fashionable diet disease called Candida, (no not thrush) and IBS, it seems the yeasty little bastards don’t agree with me. But that night they did and as I have learnt on this unpredictable treasure hunt, when your offered a beer, you take it.

You see the thing is, the week before I had been at a Baile Funk party in Cidade De Deus and it was a big affair.. The first of its kind in 10 years since the favela had been pacified. And naturally, as the Brazilians love their beer, a lot of it was ordered in. But not all of it had been consumed. The remaining bottles were waiting in Lealmir’s garage and as the night proceeded more and more shopping trolleys were dragged into the humble quarters and bottles cracked open. 

We drank and we drank. Meat was presented to my watering mouth and friendship was put forward at the not so for seeable table and we drank some more. A white Bob Marley appeared, then left, we drank even more. People came, people went. We drank more. The bottle collector went by on his bike, once, twice, now in vision, now not in vision. We drank some more. When I finally felt I had had my fair share and my gut looked like father Christmas on a bad day, I turned to Lealmir, and muttered ‘Get me home’. 

Within seconds I was in a cab heading to the mounds of middle classiness’ and deposited at a bus stop, where somehow the taxi driver knew the bus driver who knew the taxi driver. He had been given strict instructions  to keep an eye on the gringo and get her home in one piece. Which he did as I work up in daylight with the bus pulling into Centro and only 2 hours to get to work and spend a day under an air con unit pretending to edit. But that didn’t really matter. I was happy. Happy with my new family and happy with the fact I was still alive after drinking so much beer.  Only problem now, was the fact the toilet at work didnt flush and there was some definite porcelain prince action about to take place.

Menos Pelos

So I got my own room. Finally. After two months of sharing a bunk bed, I got moved to the room with the damp patch. Joss sticks and a fan seem to be disguising the stench so far but I find it easy to imagine mouldy molecules infiltrating my lungs whilst I sleep.  What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.

I also joined the Menos Pelos club and treated myself to the biggest defuzz my nether regions have ever seen. In fact, a new relationship blossomed down there and although I was losing hair, I felt like I was gaining a friend. After the wizardry had been performed and the operation signed off, I was handed a small mirror and asked to take a look.

I can honestly say being re introduced to your fejayjay under strip lighting is a new experience and words don’t immediately spring to mind when asked ‘how is it?’ by the stranger who has been fumbling with your labia for the last 45 minutes.

 Well, its my vagina but its looking back at me , with a new do and a twinkle in her eye. So I decide to say what I think is appropriate and what I think a well trained Brazilian would say when looking in the magic mirror. But I cant really say what I see I think is pretty. Pretty red more like. I am surprised its still in one piece as I am sure part of me was chucked in the bin along with any remnants of a tan I picked up in the last two months. But she’s all there alright, so I turn to the lovely lady who knows as much of my life story as I can say in Portuguese and smile and say ‘Bonita’. And it is. ‘nita’, much much neater.