What Happened?
Brad said to me a few weeks ago, “When there’s nothing on the blog I just assume things must be going well.” Not true really. I’m writing here when things are going well. If I write about the shitty things it’s because they’re not shitty anymore. I can only write about them then. Post-shitty. So, here I am, post-shitty. Post the shittiest I’ve been in years. Probably 5 five years. It was dark. I was hanging out with the dark friends in that cramped and moldy dark place they like so much. I don’t really like it there but
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Two Nights: Part Two
Night Two: The Fucking Wedding.
So, I got home around 8am with plans to meet steve at 12:30pm requiring an 11:45am bus-catching in turn requiring a 10:30am wake up. Do the math, it sucks. But I made it happen, got to the bus stop and realized that on Saturdays it’s at 10:45am bus. I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone but was unable to get in touch with Steve. I flopped onto my bed back at the apartment at about 12:30, got a call from Steve; he forgot about me.
I hung up the phone and I put
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Deus Ihe Pague
I have added a new unit to what I have dubbed the “Total Dedication to Learning Portuguese so I Can Talk to Poor Girls” called “Canta!” I have been listening to my favorite Brazilian songs and trying to memorize them and sing along. I can have a basic conversation at the store and have a pretty good vocabulary for a guy whose been here for 7 weeks but this is unbelievably difficult.
Chico Buarque, a dreamy, swoony Brazilian musician, loved by all here, is probably my favorite.
His song, Deus Ihe Pague, is the first I’ve chosen in
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Two Nights: Part One
No matter what happens to me in BH, a stabbing on the streets of Centro, big romance with a little favela girl, Dengue Fever or if I just go home after a few months to work in restaurants and flirt with waitresses, pasta night will always be what I remember the most fondly. Something started by his father when Matias were young and taken over by Matias in his adult years. It’s exactly as it sounds; people come over, pasta is cooked coupled with talking and drinking and eating and smoking until the wee hours. For me the first pasta
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