aric with an a

want to know something funny?
when I started this blog, i didn’t know she would read it
but, as fate would have it, she did
and still, probably is.
which means I can’t write the things that I’d like to
as it would all seem like a desperate attempt.
so, step back, if you can, 8 months ago
she was gone
talked about only in my most altered states
I missed her
and wished fate rang twice
but it doesn’t
and sometimes, the missed lottery number, even if by one number
makes one realize that fate lies not in the persons choice of numbers,
but the exact opposite
so, goodbye, tale that will sell
so long, story that brings drinks
sleep tight, nightmare that’s kept me awake
and thanks, the muse/menace that’s driven me from/to so much
if there’s a lesson to be learned in all of this
I don’t want to know
I just want to be done with it all
and rest content next to someone who sees me for what
this wasn’t meant to come across poetic
I just don’t want to waste any more prose
or grammar
or spelliing
or flow
or lack thereof
on something that’s not mine
nor ever has been
save for a few tales
that I’d been brought up believing.

‘Do you have any idea of how many bales of marijuana have been smoked on that balcony you’re sitting on?’ laughed my friend Jonathan.

I did. I mean - 5 minutes in Key West tells you that.

If it wasn’t the 90 miles from Cuba that initially got you wondering just how much fun had been had here on leave, the old gingerbread markings of perfume bottles (indicating in all languages that a bordello lay inside) on the antiquated homes might. Or the fact that the ‘Conch Republic’ got so infuriated with having every car leaving this, the 2nd oldest town in the U.S., searched by custom officials, that they actually declared their (short-lived independence) back in ‘82, resulting in the acquisition of not only a billion in foreign aid, but dual-citizenship?

Remember hearing about this?

Me neither.

But a lot of things have happened to this little town that most didn’t hear about.

Hunter S. Thompson spent part of ‘The Rum Diary‘ time here, as did local celeb Hemmingway and Tennesse Williams. But what about the grand fort of Dry Tortugas, one of the most stunning pieces of Spanish-meets-Carribean architecture in America?

Fantasy Fest?
Captain Tony?!
The Cemetery?
Jimmy Buf….sorry, had to draw the line there. But he is the unofficial mayor.

Who knew?

I was told this from the gardner of our home for 5 days, a mid-lifer with curly grey hair and a confusion why ‘any person would ever go back home?’…

Really can’t blame him, can you?

Tim and I are down in the old pirate town of Key West for a few days - pics and tales to come. Soon. But not now.

You can understand why by taking a quick look at the house we’re staying in.

I’ve recently added Robin’s Salsa to my list of things I’m addicted to.

So far, the list looks like this:

Pudding
Robots
Otis Redding
Sausages

…but this salsa, I’m tellin’ ya - is divine. I’ve had salsa once every 3 days since I-don’t-know-how-long and this is la puta madre. Seriously. And while a few years ago, I would have simply kept this to myself in the hopes of impressing all at your dinner party, I’m softening. Call it 32.

1. Roast 4 Roma tomatoes on a grill until they’re soft (make sure the skin is good and black)
2. Add a jalepeno, 2 onions, juice from 1/2 a lime, 2 good sized pieces of fresh garlic, 1 tbsp fresh cilantro,  and a pinch of oregano.
3. Blitz in mixer

Prepare to enjoy and then thank Robin.

Quite a few people have gotten ahold of me asking where to find the new ‘rough sundays’.

Thanks for this.

But it’ll launch first week of April.

For those who have followed the plight of Tim (he’s first to point out that up until I joined the bus, he had been fine), he can now add a rock in his hand and a 2” cut into his foot to his list of salmonella and a severely dislocated ankle.

[Click to enlarge]

Go Tim.

Fine - I’m not actually from Austin…but most aren’t. I’ll say that to make myself feel better.

Anyway.

I was flown to Austin for SXSW Interactive to shoot a quick short - ended up they didn’t need me. Which = free trip. Which = made me happy. I spent most of the time with my galpal Jenni Jones, but also had a chance to catch up with those I hadn’t seen since I lived there. 8 years ago. We ate. We drank. We caught Bob Schneider and then we met Bob Schneider and then I geeked out in front of Bob Schneider but Jenni claims that I was cool. We walked right past Sasha Baron Cohen and mobile cupcake shops [pictured]. Strolled the ‘lupe’ and couldn’t manage to fit in a Dirty’s Burger, which was a first for me. We opted for vegan ice cream which I swore to not come clean about, but that plus some serious toy shopping made it all work. My final night, I was able to meet up with Archie, which was a big thing for me. Big not only in that he was one of the few in Shanghai who I respected and even listened to, but for me, this was closure. After being kicked out, there were a handful of folks I wanted to raise one more glass with and hug ‘bye’ and had been able to - Emily in Bangkok. Jenn in Seoul. Amber in New York. Scott in Chicago. Kate & Collin in New Orleans.

The closure. I got it.

And closure is something I need.

Ever since I was about 8 years old, my parents had to Christmas shop for me. As in, my presents…to others. Reason being was that I got too excited when I knew what I was to give someone and would end up telling them long before the official time. I’ve never been able to do this - ask anyone.

Such is the case with the pilot for ‘rough sundays’ - the new show. I went ahead and did a test run a few nights ago, played it for Tim & Robin and decided that I couldn’t wait until the first week of April to get it out.

So here’s the deal - listen if you want, but please, send me some feedback. Seriously. This is a totally new show for me to do and you’ll hear why. For the first time, there’s not a lot of me in it…meaning that every other show has been more personality-driven and this one I wanted to stay away from that.

So, give her a listen if you want, let me know how it could be improved - every aspect. Music, me, track levels, time, everything.

SHOW HAS MOVED TO ‘ROUGH SUNDAYS’ SITE - DIG!

Thank ya.

And I do hope you enjoy.

10am, I leave from Berlin.

9am the next day, I’m on a boat miles off of the Florida coast fishing.

How absurd.

We went fishing for all sorts of stuff, but didn’t catch much. What we did catch, we immediately ate - making it the freshest sushi you could ever have. A little Red Snapper, some soy+wasabi and you have yourself lunch. We only caught enough for a nibble, but we had the foresight to bring beer, so no one complained. Then, we went shark-fishing. With a kite. Hard to explain, but basically, you throw out a big kite from the back of the boat. Then, you string a few fishes on a fishing line, which is attached to the kite line. You let out enough line so that the fish barely touches the water, flailing. Making noise. Which drives the sharks nuts. Supposed to, at least - we jumped each time a swell came over thinking ’surely’. It was just big water.

We drank more and passed the thousands of lobster pots along the way home. A month earlier, a drunken local had told me he’d ‘take me out raiding some pots’ and I took him seriously. I asked our Capt. how easy it was to do.

He looked at me the way the fish must have been looking at our bait.

‘You’ll get shot’.

‘Ha ha - oh yeah?’

‘I’m serious.’

‘You’re joking’.

‘I’m not’.

‘Shot?’

‘Yes. Absolutely. And the FWC wouldn’t even bat an eye’.

‘Shot.’

‘Yes.’

…I didn’t ask any more after that, but thought it extreme. I mean, c’mon - he’s a fisherman. They’re known for their colorful embellishments.

A few hours later, while sitting outside sipping on a Key West, our ‘lobster guy’ drove up and said hi, placing his margarita next to his beer in his cup-holders.

‘I’ve shot 3 boats so far with my flare gun, setting them on fire’.

‘Really?’

‘Really’.

‘What about real guns?’

‘Oh sure, the usual thing people do is take a shotgun out and hit their boat right at the water line’.

‘This is normal’.

‘Yup’.

The things you learn in RV parks.

So, I’m back on the bus. I was only supposed to be in Germany/Switzerland for a few weeks and it turned into a month. I have a Switzerland nostalgia and a Berlin hang-over. Seriously. Never have so many people in one major city not worked, yet had copious amounts of money for drinks and cash for drugs. My head hurts, but in a way that was worth it. There were French Poets and angry downstairs neighbors. A bath story so funny, I can’t even imagine how I would write it. B-movie stars. Lots of coffee. More cigarettes. Walking and groceries. Excess. I missed Europe and got to revisit my innocence while I was there. Before 8-months in Spain. Before China. Before, well, everything. I left the States at 22, I lost my virginity at 19 - so the last time I had walked the Wall, it had been in wide-eyed wonder. What’s out there? I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. And I did - a little at least. Found that what was out there was a whole lot of what’s in here - but the important lesson is that I found that out.