hi america, it’s me. tony!

hi! yes, i know that more than america reads this crazy little page but i guess i’m just happy to be in america. the beautiful. the wonderful. the muggy. the uptight. the airport-freaked-out.

this morning i woke up in a tropical paradise, this afternoon i write you from the luxury of a swivel leather chair from the admiral’s club in the american airlines wing of miami international where they dont have any free snacks but they have $3.25 sam adams’s and cute little ibm computers for those of us without laptops.


have you missed me? doubt it. ive missed you. ive missed writing. ive missed being narcisistic and pondering my bellybutton. ive missed typing and typing and writing and writing and having some closet queen tell me that i misspelled something. ive missed a lot but most of all ive missed you, sweet blog.

i’ve missed you too, tony

everyone told me to have a good time in aruba and for the most part i did. i learned about a lot of things: about our bodies, our selves, about relaxation, and family, about babies and grandparents, aging, death, sex, pinball.

mostly ive learned what i already known, im not someone who can really appreciate a beach side cabana unless its shared with a seniorita who thinks im top of the pops. dont get me wrong, there is something to be said of dark brown skinned sisters who try to outdo themselves to the latest dance crazes and theres something to be said about watercolor worthy sunsets and bottomless margueritas, and there is certainly something to be said about nearly-passed out pot-pushers who lean against a shack and proudly proclaim, “marijuana, hash, exctasy. i am a drug dealer!” as your mother and your sister and your brother in law look away and try to ignore the dreadlocked fellow. but there needs to be said something more about relaxation.

i completely relaxed for about 25 minutes the whole trip.

i read about 50 pages of the highly recommended “white oleander”.

i watched about 5 hours of television, and only fiddled on the internet for about 65 minutes. i drank, i didnt smoke, i lusted, i didnt fornicate. i did all the things that i figured i would do, except one thing: i didnt kiss an aruban girl.

they were all too young.

this happened to me a long time ago in san felipe in mexico in ’98. me and my pals joe and mike roadtripped down there and the only attractive women were married or had children under their arms. in situations like those you lower your requirements and you look at a 16 year old girl and you try to rationalize and then you shake your head and get back with the program.

there were pretty girls on the island, dont get me wrong, but they were on their honeymoons. or they were in high school. or they were trying to compete with their sisters. it was all very confusing.

food also confused me. the older i get the more people want to educate me about what i eat. i dont like this. i dont think i eat all that much and now that my metabolism is sinking i want to lose the small spare tire that i am developing so people are telling me about the Atkins diet where you dont eat carbs. until this trip i didnt really know what carbs were. turns out carbs are my favorite things to eat. i love bread and pasta and all those things and i refuse to give them up. but then i saw the parade of others who didnt want to give this up or that up on the beach… half dressed… walking with their lovers who have never given up anything and it made me curious.

what would i look like if i even tried to look decent?

i also noticed tattoos. most people have terrible tattoos. most people dont know a good tattoo if it bit them on the ankle, which is what a lot of these peices of permanent art looked like: mistakes, accidents, crap stuck on that should be peeled off because its so out of place and so worthless that the guy who burned it on should be forced to rub it off. it made me happy that i had no tattoo.

finally i considered the hair on the backs of men. (shut up.)

applying the manditory suntan oil i discovered the i had hair on my back. not a lot but some. more than i want. more than i expected. at first i was repulsed. hair! on my back! the sin of all sins, ive been told. but the more i saw others the more i realized that pretty much most men with hair on their fronts have hair on their backs. so i chilled out and had another sip of rum. i worked out three times out of six days. i ran a few miles. i didnt eat too crazy. i danced a little. i swam some. but will i shave my back for a hottie? lets hope not.

all in all it was a splendid adventure on a misfortunate rock in the ocean. one of the least beautiful places with one of the more wonderful beaches you’ll ever find.

flying first class the whole way, being stoked with accomidations and extravagances like this “club” that has showers and meeting rooms and kids rooms and computers, is pretty sweet, people. the rich do know how to live. now all i have to find out is why their ATM wont give me $40 so i can get a few more round of drinks.

but no matter. i understand there might be some carbs in my sam adams.


its good to be back in the states.

where i belong.

with you.