oh ah glenwood

don't panic. we still have our tach's. and our eyebrow's. just. but it was a close call. we had to high-tail it out of there. we sure did leave a trail of destruction. couldn't risk another night. would have ended in disaster.

it sure was real while it lasted though. we boozed. and then we boozed. and then we boozed some more. and then i fell in love. with a beautifully sexy italian fire dancer named antonella. but she went off with some brazilian dude. goddamn brazilian dudes. so then we boozed some more.

it started off with a few quiet ones. about 5pm. just to pass time and watch the sunset. but then the sun rose. and the young american dude was missing an eyebrow. and had chunks shaved out of his hair. and the young glenwoodian dude was also missing an eyebrow. serves him right. he had never heard of henry ate. the youth of today! and the malawian dude was lucky not to be missing his dreads. and gary was jumpy. and james was juiced. and miguel was mangled. and frank was fucked. and i was bossies... again.

we sure did laugh: convo revolved around bonsai animals (knee-high giraffes, polar bears in kitchen freezers, little dogs that would result in a huge saving on peanut butter); all the dodgy anal conditions in the whole world ever; stupid americans and the fact that "sometimes the lord does deliver"; hunting rights at mayorka village and the killing of little bunny rabbits ("you little bastards"); butch cassidy and the sundance kid and singing in the rain; anyway... don't wanna bore you... we covered a whole lot of shit. and sometimes... shit stinks.

nakata bay. malawi. a place where dreams come true. and hearts are broken.

anyway. we high-tailed it out of there. onto the ferry. covered half the lake in two days. turns out we were a bit ambitious in attempting to paddle it. would have taken 3 months. you can never trust an israeli.

and then yesterday we very nearly crashed the entire malawian minibus-taxi (daladala) economy. we hopped on. and then refused to squash up. four seats. four people. that was our policy. and we stuck to it. doggedly. we would not budge... literally. at first the okes thought it was funny. then they were confused. then angry. then aggressive. the daladala ground to a halt. driver got out waving arms. the conductor was foaming at the mouth, spitting "this is a business". we sat impassively. shrugging. our fellow passengers felt mutiny was in the air. they were ready to join the revolution. hasta la vistoria, siempre. but the movement ended as quickley as it began. a big mama got on and plonked herself down on frank's lap. the whole crowd breathed in collectively. expecting fireworks. but frank was crushed. broken. he was suffocating. he had to give way or die. he chose life. he shifted over. the resistance was broken. yet another triumph of capitalism over the people.

so off to mozam tomo. the legendary tofo. sun, sea, sand, and scando's. hold thumbs.