Not So Deep Thoughts

It was 1995, I think – you bought that weird necklace at the flea market and it turned out to be an ancient mystic talisman. Good thing we figured out the counter-curse, or who knows what would have happened in the end. I still feel terrible about that orphanage, though. I don’t think anyone else will ever utter the words, “Guess how many orphans I can fit in my mouth” again. Thank gods….

I’ll never forget that trek up Mount Everest together! Altough you were only 10 at the time, you beat back that charging mountain goat in the lower region with a ferocity that was awesome! And at the top, well you singing “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” so all tyhe world to hear was… well, very emotional for me (except my tears freezing caused me to be blinded for the entire trek down!!!)

That’s easy. I remember exactly the day that we met. Paris, raining, remember? You were reading Verlaine by the river Sena, I think it was:

Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon coeur
D’une langueur
Monotone.

I slapped you face twice, so you could move again, cause you were frozen to death. After that, Vanesa gave you a kiss. It was not the slapping but the kiss that wake you up, so you probably won´t have a memory of the previous minutes. Maybe I shouldn´t have said this.

In the forest, behind the bushes, a hole called your attention. When you went up there, your feet were gulped and in no time your body. You caught my ankles, so I was gulped too. Together we stopped in a huge bag. The big element belonged to an enormous mud giant. It started moving.
The temperature rose bit by bit. We thought that were near center of the earth. In several hours the temperature went down.
“With some wisdom” we tickled to the mud creature, then, we were expelled in a sneeze. We were watching the outside, and knew that the new place was New Zealand.
We have been the first who have arrived at Antipodes, going through the shortest path.

Man, how could you forget about the burrito incident!? I remember it like it was yesterday! We were chillin in Retiro and that fucking asshole with the stupid orange tie was smacking his kid around… you just stood up, took your kebab out of its wrapper and chucked that fucking thing right at his head. You fucked up his (poorly tailored) three piece suit but good… he didn’t even know what to say, he just stood there in disbelief with his kid half-laughing, half-sobbing at his side. You taught him life’s most valuable lesson that day, one we both know all too well… don’t be a dick to kids and RESPECT THE KEBAB. Fuck the assholes, right man!

I’m sorry that I can’t remember any fake memories of us, but I’ll never forget the time that you and I had a bit too much to drink in good ol’ Laramie, Wyoming, and it led to us waking up in Inner Mongolia the next morning. I looked at the sevend thousand dollar bar tab crumpled next to me and then I looked in the other direction where I discovered two Cuban women of ill-repute that we must have picked up along the way.

Unsure as to what had happened we escorted the women out of the shanty we were in and decided to figure out what exactly happened. But before we could figure anything out that freakish, crazed Mongolian busted into our sod dwelling, setting it ablaze. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs.

We figured why the hell not enjoy ourselves seeing that we were all f’d up anyway. So, we spent the next couple months jumping train to train, hitchhiking, and backpacking our way in one direction. Unfortunately that one direction ended up being a more circular pattern, than straight.

And, still, here we sit in some home in inner Mongolia that miraculously has internet that we entertain ourselves on by writing fake stories to each other.

I can’t remember when I actually met Paul Gladis, and that’s probably because it was before I ever existed, or should i say before we ever existed in the non-Christian sense of the term.. I’ll explain: Paul and I are identical twins that never quite got unstuck in the womb. We were attached by that smooth dollop of skin which is the ear lobe. That was before the time of fancy prenatal technology, and the doctors said there was no choice but to let the birth go through naturally and see what happened. And so there we were, two identical somebodies, fighting it out for that first glimpse of the world. I got my right foot out first, I believe, but then, they say, came my similar somebody’s left elbow. But despite our pushing and pulling, there was no unsticking those two greasy bald heads, charging through towards the electric birth ward lights. God bless our mother and her lamaze instructor. But that was then and this is now. Paul never got over the fact that I came out of it all with the more perfectly formed swatch of ear. And that is why Dumbo has always made him cry.