…and all of these things.
Cheap CDs: I miss being in a place where piracy rules the roost and a mix CD with 20 ‘it’ songs or good ‘theme’ CDs cost a buck, as opposed to shiny, proper CDs with two good songs that cost $25 each. I once lived in a house for seven months with no TV simply listening to music and typing to spend the downtime, so to me music matters. Hearing songs on youtube just isn’t the same.
Sure I could just put a peer-to-peer program on my own computer but it gives me the same thought as the thought of having sex with a prostitute: there’ll be some quick benefits, but think of the infections.
A “Stacey”: Back-story: I had the best dance I’ve ever had with a Bolivian named Stacey this time last year. Her movement was uninhibited without being crude, fluid and sexual without being loose. Oh my God, I spent years looking for a perfect dancer for me (as in freestyle, not Latin or couples or anything like that, which I’m shit at) and that night was it. She seemed to have a good personality too and yes, she was sexy. But I didn’t care if she said a word or did anything else besides dance with me whenever I wanted, and be happy about it. I never saw her again. It’s hard to find a dancer you really click with, just like it’s hard to find a personality you really click with. I want a new one, Santa.
A Portuguese or Brazilian “friend”, and a French “friend”: I need warm, understanding native speakers with whom to practice my competent but fragile French and Portuguese skills. They both have to be hot chicks and we have to gel beautifully on an intellectual level. Said talking also has to be accompanied with steamy if ephemeral flings.
A free trip (including accommodation) to Oruro, Bolivia every February: The city itself is a sleepy shithole but it hosts carnaval once a year. I’ve done carnaval twice, in 06 and 08. Last (this?) year I had no lodging and slept on a seat in the bus station, that’s how much I love Carnaval of Oruro. It’s like we all imagine Rio de Janeiro’s to be but Bolivia is shyer and more traditional than Brazil so ours is smaller and with more clothes on.
My book, magically written and published: I’ve had a project in mind for seven years but I’ve only written two and a half chapters in all that time. It’s about an infantile God who torments the people in Old Testament lore because he was an immature teenage asshole. I ripped the concept off a short-story I read once. So far I’ve done Adam and Eve and Noah’s flood, and am currently on Abraham (who is the inspiration, the coward who would have willingly slaughtered his kids). Time to get to work.
Scratched off the list: Yellow runners. Before I disavow materialism, allow me to undo my nobility by tremulously stating that the other day I spent $180 on yellow runners with cool black stripes. They were like Uma Thurman’s in Kill Bill and I just had to have them. Don’t laugh, I was once like you.
I had stocked up on black and white runners back in the day in the cheap United States, with the intention of never buying shoes here again. But then I outgrew the plain days and suddenly found the confidence and the longing to wear bright colours. I bought red Pumas in Argentina for $30 (way to name-drop) and thought my life was complete, but in the back of my mind yellow was the next step. And then two days ago… I’m a niche-lover and I see so few mainstream things that I like. When they appear as in a miracle you just have to bite the bullet and forget about the trillion more useful applications $180 would be good for. Sigh. There Santa, I saved you a chore.
I know I’m supposed to want things for Christmas, but I just don’t. But still, the people I asked for can be wrapped up in a large box, with a ribbon tied on it. If you tell me I’ll still act surprised.