The Life and Art of Jean-Paul Niko
Archive for September, 2009
I may as well be a sex tourist in Siberia
Sep 23rd
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I may as well be a sex tourist in Siberia where pregnant girls will come up to you, trying to fuck for a few bucks. There’s no difference between that and what I’m doing now, living my flesh fetish. I have been pursuing the experiences of the senses my whole life but always under a type of smoke screen. I have tried to justify it as necessary to write or even to learn about the world. I should admit that now I’m lustily pursuing it for it’s own sake! I should give my self over to it. What will happen to me? I spit in your face. Do you realize that the difference between you and me is in the intensity of my balls?
I try to ignore the old people
when they sit around me at the bus stop
or congregate on my park bench near the pigeons
or when they’re bent over tables in McDonald’s late at night
nursing cups of shitty coffee
and I just want two apples pies for a buck
to soak up some of the liquor in my gut
I am beginning to think that I am living a rented existence in Venice. I am worried than when I return to New York in October, my life here will disappear into a sort of black hole of memories along with the tentative connections that I’ve made. It doesn’t bother me as it does most people to have people that I’ve have become close with and shared experiences with ripped away from me every few days as they move on to the next leg of their trip or have to go home because their visa is expiring. I’ve focused my attention instead on meeting as many people as possible. I have been trying to suck their lives into mine like a vampire, but since I bring my own thrills to the table our lives sometimes become intertwined for a while.
Venice is crumbling around me, in my mind’s eye. I can’t remember if I was supposed to achieve something. It is the winter of my summer and I feel cruelly treated by time. I’m too comfortable here. I’m like a piece furniture at the hostel or like a rock on the beach. I’ve become a gelatinous blob and melted into the environment. Maybe I should go to Portland for a while. Everyone’s been saying that it is great there.
I cut back to about a beer or two and I’ve been sleeping on and off these past three days. I wake up at odd hours and slip out on to the terrace to smoke reefer before the brain fog has a chance to escape.
Duennschiss
Sep 20th
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I didn’t feel the urgency to write very much this time, my second stay in Venice. These are some notes I’ve made after having lived on and off at the Venice Beach hostel for about two months. I am tentatively entitling this second collection “Duennschiss” or diarrhea of the mouth because that’s what it is, stream of consciousness musings in the shadows of the land of sun and sand. Perhaps there are a few gems in here like the rare pearl in an oyster. These are like pearls before swine but in this case I think it is more like swine before pearls. You are my pearls ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy the show which I have tried to make as sweet for your enjoyment as fresh fruit or even pussy which is never quite as sweet the second time around.
Did it all start on a lawn in a summer home
with fiendish sex plots hatching in my head?
I was too young to play with my dick
but I tortured insects in Connecticut
and it turned my blood to fire
I choose this life chasing highs,
favoring fun as my fancy
Sometimes I forget that
and I wonder what I’m doing
The cold fear grips me
the horror of aging
and womanless men
Friends with benefits
are nice
but experience dulls it’s own edge
Chasing that first high ,
that’s the long road to hell
treating my life like a drug run
is fun
but when Twan called me up to tell me strange dreams I was too high
and could only think of nannies getting eaten by crocodiles
Venice is changing
as the high season gives way
You are my sweet, sensual, firecracker
West Coast lover
security blanket against the seasons
I don’t care how big the ass is
it’s the action on it
that makes it nice
She can have a big ass
but don’t know how to use it
Look at those two guys still following her
talkin’ shit
Listen to the applause on the beach
I suppose that’s for her
Last three days burning through salads in the alley
Nothing but hate under the black nails
All I have left is the pain
I loved you once
The graduation from intelligence to experience
on the edge of a cliff on the Pacific Coast Highway
smoking buds and drinking always drinking
with the boys in black hats
hitting on chicks at hooters
driving around in the Audi A6
I think I’m falling in love with cars and everything else with wheels,
skateboards and longboards, bicycles and rollerblades,
little dune buggies, but who gives a fuck about long lists of shit
in a poem
Hanging out on the beach in the sun. hearing the waves
getting your toes wet at night when the water is black
I like the twilight hour when the sun begins to pull back into the night
the day people get thin and pack into their cars
go away, go away
that’s when the lost boys come out and wasted girls who don’t really want to make it, and the hustlers who hustle but only a little
