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    Oh Show me the way to the next whisky bar

    Oh Show me the way to the next whisky bar

    “Oh, don't ask why, Oh, don't ask why“ the Doors trigger me into the next high. We grin shamelessly at each other, always looking towards the sun in the morning. My Zsa Zsa Zsu draws me back to the garden divan with its mosquito canopy. The smell of the saltwater pool beckons, the slightly cooling breakfast laps.

    But she is stronger with her sweet

    I am I scent

    this almost holy note of the endless, inspire you with me, it is beautiful here, because I am here, because my scent enslaves and inspires you, and her silky skin, which nothing and no one can harm, which daily becomes softer, smoother, more polished from the shores along which our love moves like a string of pearls of the That's how it should be.

    We roam successfully from here to there, an old tomcat and his kitten. Nomads of addictions and lusts, stoics and bohemians on a magical mystery tour.

    The entrance to the half-finished villa had not been blocked off, perhaps the owners were on vacation or, like many thanks to Covid, they ran out of money and reduced their prices by a few furs and limousines.

    Better to divert money to pharmaceutical stocks. You have to keep an eye out when you're wandering along the coastal roads, the access roads are often hidden, the richer the social classes, the more often you find four to eight property owners where the security services are more modest in checking, as the owners only check on things once a year.

    Or the security services are no longer able to get to the hospital in time due to the long distances.

    Emma from Paysafecard writes me her useless lines for the hundredth time, sometimes in the inbox, mostly missed by the spam filter. My laziness in unsubscribing from the stupid newsletter is a special form of activism. I do this with all algorithms, I lie to them and fake interests. Until they have nonsensical, almost ridiculous data that does not reflect me at all, it is like poison for an industry that needs serious data to farm money with.

    Unbooked, isolated Air BnBs are also nice places to stay. Many have full fridges and pantries, but that's just an add-on.

    Oh, I can already hear them, the ones who were after quick sex, the moralists and pacifists and conformists and Christians and hormonists, I couldn't just, well, yes, it's just that, fucking shit, I'm not writing this because I want honor and loyalty, correct sheep's trotting, harnessed to the Prada carriages of the CEOs, except with her.

    And with the equity on this depraved planet, yes, sorry, but are you really more Catholic than the Pope? Do you really think that anyone can honestly and fairly earn the luxury that we often see, when not too far away his fellow countrymen have to live from hand to mouth, picking bullshit in his fields, cooked in 40 degree heat with no shade?

    Which you're probably letting moldy in your fruit bowl right now.

    Or whatever you do for everyday life, I mean, I've never had so many drugs for nothing as when I was looking for luxury properties that weren't inhabited. Boats are a hot tip. And generally speaking, you'll hardly notice any subtle loss from these silly monkeys of life afterwards, in their decadence they hardly notice ten grams of coke or a missing Rolex.

    I play geocaching with a few nomad friends and we exchange nice spots. But always wait at least a year or two before you enter it in the database, patience slap the greedies.

    Emma doesn't get any hints.

    Yes, of course, it's best not to mess with the Escobars of this world, but the average hedonistic assholes are so numerous that you don't have to.

    Naked and marked and scarred by the night, she rolls and wraps herself around me, everything an attack on my interest in the outdoors, in browsing and checking. And writing to you, after all, you paid for it.

    We, and this is with a wink, but we are Lala and Loluum, a little bit freaky, but nice.

    And only evil to evil

    I met her on Fetlife, my last hope after they banned me from Okcupid and I had no money left for Tinder Gold. The focus of my quest was Thailand, the Philippines, the Asian Room, progressive Asian girls are the icing on the cake of the planetary system. Of course, not every Caucasian woman can be a Laurie Penny, but with all this feminist love, I can also raise a criticism here: the overly strict longing for the overthrow of the patriarchy is usually taken out on the wrong people.

    Besides, this is literature that can make strands, stripes, that lives on the excuse of being just a fantasy play of the possible in convoluted acrobatics, that has only barked at this wimp level since Burroughs. It describes what was, what one stumbled into freely or willingly, and what one secretly wishes and thinks but will probably never dare to do.

    My thing is more the direct inbreeding with the adverse reality circus in which we are now more than ever before searching for an honest way to deal with it better.

    So it's Lala who stops me from swimming because I'd rather swim in her until the waterfall threatens to wash me away.

    We experimented for a while with what we could be for each other, both 8000 miles and travel restrictions away, both feeling very trapped and not happy with the management of the pandemic. But still feeling rather positive, it can't last forever. Hehe, fail.

    And there's no need to invent a pandemic, it's a joke, we've been in the endless crisis for a long time, before and after, too, and that's why we're doing gymnastics to the max. No, no therapy sessions today. This is the Gypsy Flow Dance.

    Well, show us the way
    To the next little girl
    Oh, don't ask why
    Oh, don't ask why Show us the way
    To the next little girl
    Oh,…

    Lala even sings along louder than I do, she's bi and is only a sub and slut towards me, she can be quite a mistress with girls, a Queen Lioness was her first self-description. Often grumpy when she looked out over Bangkok from her office. That was my starting point, someone wants more.

    Fuck your office, babygirl, let the world be our office, it was quite easy but infinitely difficult to seduce her.

    But that's not a story about breaking out, getting out, trading the enslaved highway to hell for a Jacob's or even the ass pilgrim's path, I'm much too straight to the point, we assume things like that just as knowledge of certain books is supposed to make footnotes unnecessary, it's not a sacrifice of education, dirty reader, everything here is a Steppenwolf move heading straight for zero.

    We carry a rabbit money box with us, stuffed full of notes and coins from all over the world. If we meet someone who needs it, we simply open the bottom and shake it to wish them all the best.

    Brazil

    is not a beginner's country, but hey, even magic mushrooms are legal here, and Uruguay is very nice to rest normal from the Destiny.

    Even if there is no Destiny, we are happy to say that we would have felt that way. Basically, it is a bit of youthful vigor with the wisdom of age, a globetrotting revolution, we are elusive, not seriously considered, that's nice, under the radar, stealth game is in.

    If you live in your mom's basement when you hack the NSA, you shouldn't be surprised if someone finds out about you at some point. Always on the move, even in the house of money, it quickly becomes clear what's important. Lala was already brought up by Netflix. I've been catching up on that for years with a second educational path.

    That's why Lala and Loluum are pseudonyms. Thanks to Instagram, younger Asian women all look the same to the viewer anyway, and I'm a wonderfully underestimated guy, inconspicuous, zero charisma, the Invisible Man.

    As a couple we obviously stand out, but we mostly play photographer and model. Or wear NG0 T-shirts. Sea Shepherd is the best. Amnesty is ideal for dealing with the authorities. UNO is another good cheat.

    You also have to say that in bad times, religiously stupid countries are very sensible. You can get money out of the evangelicals' pockets in particular if you push the right buttons. Lala has appeared, I don't know, I usually improvise and she looks far away and spooky, I bring her here to fulfil a mission from God, we want to be part of this wonderful family, this sense of community.

    The more singing there is, the more people die of Covid but also the more money there is in the bosses' houses.

    I'm telling you, the biggest idiots have uncorked huge sums of money just for Please come to dinner with your colleague tomorrow. For touching her knee under the god-fearing table. Oh, the way they pant for Lala is often amusing.

    There is nothing people love more than to see their delusions confirmed; they are not even surprised when someone confirms them. Since Hahnemann, it has been an easy take.

    But I don't sink into my thoughts, I sink into Lala's grotto; she covers me like an octopus. The ayahuasca still seems to have a bit of an effect; what we're doing is very metapersonal.

    Always tell everyone what they tell you, say yes, yes, with emphasis on the second yes, that's what we did with our shaman the day before yesterday, yes, they were damn beautiful structures and patterns, the jaguars inspired us, we merged with the jungle, the beach and the sea, we rode Morrison's seven-mile-long snake, but everything else goes in one ear and out the other and the head nods automatically.

    Maybe the jaguars brought us here. I'm like Satre today and she's a little Woody Allen victim.

    I remember two books from my youth that had a big impact on me, Jean Genet's Diary of a Thief. It doesn't have to end like that these days, with all the wonderful possibilities. And it's a hell of a lot more fun with two people.

    The other is one that, thirty-five years later, still makes me feel deeply in love with forgotten words, like Children of the Night by Jean Cocteau. A model for our own elegy, because unicorns made of neurodiverse fragments, escaping from lockdown to lockdown and fleeing from open borders to open borders, are of course perfectly suited to this Make Love in Dangerous Times.

    But the majority is no secret, we are poly and we stand by it.

    Lala is a masochist, she loves pain, the shaman wanted to heal her, but she wishes for other forms of peace, I am not at all convinced by these De Sade singularities, but less so from Lala's side, I think that above all the sadist is not a personality that deserves to be promoted.

    He is as dangerous as a pedophile. You can offer friendship to almost any sexual current and twitch, but these two have a darkness that should not stumble into life and our times. What will all these delusional sadists do when one day they are confirmed to be unable to find volunteers for decades in old age and have too little money for professionals.

    But in the filter bubbles of the communities, such questions are of course avoided.

    I can talk to Lala about this problem because she comes from the other side, but she is a playful, new, greedy adult who is very concerned about which monsters she is luring out.

    Romantic Kink and once again a new wave of Lala on me that electrifies me. She rides slowly, tantrically, the sun rises, beads of sweat multiply each other. Floodgates open. She loves to be choked, I control her breathing, everything is slow motion longing for the white light.

    Holy 4G network, Alexa loses the connection, but music is as much a part of fucking as drugs.

    We go swimming, we cleaned the pool ourselves yesterday, we have been brought up well and know what is appropriate. Most of the time we even water the plants. It's all give and take. We just turn the pyramid around.

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