learnin' a lot, test-drivin' age-old mysteries and
dubious truths. Here's some results:
1. Paris, France is the city of
lovers for one reason and one reason only: Paris
delivers the most fantastic fuckin' orgasms EVER.
1a. Italy's orgasms are more frequent
and longer....more languorous, but quite forgettable
in light of those in the City of Lights.
2. New York in the summer is sex.
There's no room for anything else. Hot, humid, plus
the usual thrilling everyday RIDE, thrown altogether
and it throbs like my insides.
3. Best Summer Outfit: A. Smile.
B. Hippy shake. Walk that down the street. C. Thunderstorm.
4. SCENT is DESTINY!! The nose knows.
Love = luck + chemistry. Do it doggy-style and go
sniffin' 'round to figure out which fuck-up's gonna
be right for your gene-mixing experiments (and,
more importantly, will therefore make yer blood
boil). Ran into this big ape of a guy I knew and
wouldn't talk to in
college...said he heard all about it on the Discovery
channel. Seems we animals look to mix with our
opposites to create more diversified immune systems
and thus live forever. Ignore this info at your
peril! Especially in NYC. Who cares how rich/tall/handsome/Jewish
he is. He's gotta make you HUNGRY. Find out what
he had for dinner, and if you wanna get invited
over for leftovers. No sommelier? Tear a page from
Vice magazine and have a sniff of ass. You'll
know for sure then.
"I imagine what it
would be like if we all wised up
and started following our noses,
stopping to sniff,
grope and mount.''
5. Hound dog came sniffin' after
me, found his way into an empty bar I was tending.
Lotsa dogs been comin' round. I must be pretty pungent.
This one, a huge dark hulk of a man, was a musician,
was biting his lower lip, was turnin' me on with
his eyes and was the definition of blatant. Said
he's a 'detail guy'--loved my eyes, my hands and
had somehow memorized the exact shade of tacky pink
I'd painted my toenails, still hidden behind the
bar. Loved my feet, wanted to rub them, said,
"I can smell you from here."
"Oh yeah? What do I smell like?"
More lip biting as he grinned mischievously
and pantomimed 'Come hither' with his come-hither
finger. Ah-ha, that explains everything, like why
all the dogs in these parts keep runnin' straight
for me, stickin' their noses near my crotch; it's
quite a sight... already been interviewed 'bout
it for a New York mag: "What's my secret?"
I giggle and blush and get turned
on and so turn my attention to the street, where
the everyday parade of the most colorful, fabulous,
down-and-out up-and-coming on God's green earth
are oozing by in the thick-as-pea-soup heat. The
girls are barely dressed, each one a neon billboard
for fertility with full breasts thrust forward,
tummies bared, asses wriggling in the oldest, most
effective come-on of 'em all... except perhaps for
that come-hither scent I seem to be exuding...It's
got 'em all beat! I imagine what it would be like
if we all wised up and started following our noses,
stopping to sniff, grope and mount. In Indonesia,
the definition of the word for kiss--cium-cium--is
"to sniff." And kisses over there, in that land
drenched with hot wet eroticism, are little sniffs
and nuzzles. Over here we got New York City, which
in summertime is the definition of hot, the definition
of sweaty. Crack it open like a ripe cantaloupe--so
succulent, sweet and juicy.... gives ya somethin'
real nice to suck on.