Silly Grins

Thursday, December 1, 2011

33 Days: Day 4


Another sunny day, we go dumpster diving in the morning and find a bunch of celebrity trash magazines from 2004.  2 1/2 hours of work on the beach, no one there so I spend most of the time reading my book in Japanese (being in France is not an excuse to let myself go!).  Romu passes by halfway through this little work spree to tell me my cop sunglasses are too imposing and that I need to take them off when I'm touring around and look people in the eyes in order to motivate them to buy ice cream from me.  What a load of horseshit, if people want ice cream they'll buy it, so I wait until he leaves the beach and then put them back on.  

A group of people I know from the campground come and buy 30 euros worth of ice cream from me, cool though this doesn't translate into much money for me (20% of what I sell).  Back at the campground the domestic violence next door continues.  

They quiet down in the evening (don't know why, then again, I don't know why it started) and we all decide to go to the local dance club together, too bad we get there before midnight and find ourselves the only ones in a kitschy dance club on a small-ass island.  I dance anyway though I'm not drunk enough for it to be fun.  Angela participates a little bit as well, but Jacob and Julie just sit and try to look cool next to the dance floor with their cocktails, hard to do when there's no one to notice you looking cool.  We leave within an hour or two.  Back at the campground Jacob and Julie decide to have a loud fuckfest, we are serenaded by the sounds of their inflatable mattress making strange wheezing noises and an endless refrain of "oui bébé oui" coming alternately from Jacob, then Julie, then Jacob, then Julie.  I take a walk because I'm already starting to feel the horrible claustrophobia of living in a tent and this just socks it home. 

Upon returning Angela relates to me how the moment they finished fucking Jacob got a call on his cell phone and took it without any thought for post-coital cuddle time -- this of course rekindled the domestic abuse flame and they were having a nasty row in no time, at least it was only verbal this time, apparently.


  1. That would be claustrophobic for sure. I'm enjoying reading your daily adventures.

  2. MT: I do not take credit for the writing of "33 Days" - though permission has been given to post as a 'conduit' or 'relay'. In the 33 Days prologue, there's a disclaimer which sates that "....I did not write it. No siree." Still getting used to this medium of communication, so time and practice, practice, practice is (are) still required before the blog actually comes together, matures, explodes, disintegrates or whatever.