Communication.

     http://hypem.com/#/radio
 B: can I ask you question?
    A: sure
    B: Do you find that most communication is bullshit to get money?
    A: you mean spam?
    B: No just the people you talk to
    B: um
    A: it always end up going to money
    A: sorry
    B: lol
    A: I know this is not what you had in mine
    A: I promise I will shut up after this question
    A: and we can have some fun
    B: ?
    A: nevermind

Seychelles and double face.

It is hard to smile across a table when the person on the other side wants to see you suffer in the end. They may not know it yet but their enmity for you is growing by the second. In a fear and panic you begin to perspire. No one notices at first when you dab at the small translucent bead of sweat are caught by your napkin. If water is stopped it will simply find another direction. The armpits, directly at the bottom of your knees. Little bits around your abdomen. People just blink and looked into their bottom less plates of some Fish stew you cannot remember the name of but people have reminded you millions of times how to pronounce the name of the fish that hails from just off the coast of Argentina, Southern Argentina. How rough those waters must be.

The surf is a foamy white near green color which is baffling to your convention of the color scheme you were brought up to respect. It washes over the head the holds the passage for Oxygen, a salty tang hits your tougne and you cry to be save, for someone to reach out and grab you; It is not out the realm of possibility for a fishing boat to make it's way by. It may even be the fishing boat that caught the fish that you picked at at that awful dinner party just outside of Moscow, wishing the whole time you were back in San Francisco.
Just when you think it is going to get easier, it simply will not. When you landed at the Airport in the Bay Area you need to have a drink, and your tastes tend to differ from that of your every day pleasure seeker. Your mind and heart enjoy the exotic delicacy of the misunderstood, misappreciated, and socially disenfranchised. Of course we are talking about the Transgendered community. Their bodies a work of art to attract the gazing eyes of a male with a taste for a wine that no one will drink as they fear it is poison that tastes so good. They know they want what you can actually go for and grasp in your hand is more than they will dream up between the lotion and the locked bathroom door.

These places are supposed to be fun you tell yourself with a particular angst; Every person here is a call girl and you have refused to pay for sexual interactions, it will not stand. Everyone that approaches has the same scent on, the same lie of interests. Isn't that enough coming from those who actually possess a Vagina. You have to live with their lives you wouldn't want to keep dealing with the same garbage you do in a relationship you truly do not care about. These beautiful people are the only thing in your life that holds it together, despite the face that are willing to share it with no one because you know that are first they will pretend to be irritated and even offended by your lifestyle. In the end though, they will want what you want.

She had told you she was from the a chain of Islands. As you kicked back a beer from the your right hand, you sad curtly, "I do not pay for sex," Her puzzlement and you abrupt nature made her turn only to look back, eyeshadow enough to make you scream. You say, "I did not mean to be rude, I just didn't want to waste your time, their are plenty of other people that you can talk to that would pay I am sure." Eyes from this fairy tale beauty are looking at the floor, wondering what answer to give. One is to avoid the rejection, two is two evaluate their life, and third is to see whether they would glad throw away four to five hundred dollars for the evening just because they had a hunch about you. She looks into her purse and sees she has enough, afterall why does she need to always bring her work home with her. She made enough from the lap dances. You are young and stupid. The brain inside your skin tells you to let her know that she can do anything she wants, that she can escape her prisoner like life inside that dive bar for whores.

You know she has heard the things one million times and you roll around in a bed together and she travels somewhere else, and you picture a suitcase full of money, a perfectly carved out Issey Miyake suit. When you ring her doorbell, she answers and a man in her bed begins to make loud noises at you. You both lock your eyes on each other where you reach into your jacket pocket and pulls out a silenced pistol. You fire the shots. One to hit the heart, the second to destroy the jugular and the third to hit in the forehead. These would seem to be precise target but you have been doing this kind of thing for years now. It just comes to easy and his dark, nearly purple blood splatters all over the bed sheet.

"Pack your things, take this card, charge it to wherever you want and then evaporate, also do not forget to take the bag with you,"

You are no humphrey bogart but at this moment and time you certainly feel like one, a cigarette lit between the lips would be amazing but you do not smoke. She packs her things frantically as if you have threatened to kill her. She finally has it all together.

"Stay in a hotel, if you tell your boss you will be in trouble, with him not me. I am will talk to you boss,"

She nods over and over and walks away with the money, the credit card in your name and goes away forever. Could it have been she had a mother back in the Phillipines? Perhaps she will globe trot for awhile and do the same thing in Bangkok or Shanghai. Perhaps even in Paris to the clientele of Foie Gras or the caviar licks from a spoon in the finest neighborhood in Stockholm. Or she she could end up at Lucky Chengs in New York City, Miami or Chicago or you could be surprised when you sip something with raw sugar is Rio De Janeiro that she appears at the bar with a handsome looking man, younger than you. She eyes you from across the table and smiles at you out of gratitude. Even though the heat outside is stifling you put on a cap and pull it down in her direction. No one sees what you see or she sees or he sees as he orders her a drink and revels in his wealth.  You walk past her and dissolve to a hotel that Wallpaper guides do not even know about, or that Prada set you bought to have some extra space. In the sweaty night you let your shirt soak as you walk back to your hotel room and guzzle down a cold bottle of water, carbonated. The you stare out the window leaning you head against the think glass. Cabs and people milling around or just leaving to go out to find them AURAS in similar situations or the lucky ones who do not have to worry about being the slave of taboo or the salve to an insecure mind.

Tall dreamed buildings fall faster then the smaller ones. As it begins to crumble beneath you feet you wake to find yourself in the small bed of a small apartment in Kansas city, tibetan prayer flags waving gently in the wind of the balmy Missouri evening. You balance on one leg and concentrate on the window and the lack of noises outside.

On the edge of a bed lies no liquor, no gun, no cigarette. Only her poison is left, because you deserved the venom when you thought of her as less. Your punishment instead is a brick exposed wall with nothing on it. Although she may occasionally suffer the abuse of greed in the hands of a dirty man, You did nothing to help her. You propagated his business which to some is an even worse affront on a person, to condone and enjoy it. Perhaps the difference between you and him is that he collects the money and enjoys the exciting accessibility of asking a french designer to hand make your shirts, where you borrow money from your parents to buy something from A.P.C, making up a lie as to how you need it. Now you are here with a job, with a wind hitting your shaven head and the way you tried to comfort her when you just wanted to comfort yourself.
Lay back and dream of the Seychelles. Imagine the blue water and a grave muscle of the sea carrying you away to a depth they will never find you. Seems like Kansas city is the closest place to that desire on terra firma. You look at your flip phone, where did Xavier go? And if he left was he even an actual person?


Delight in your poison, just don't get caught.

No more instant messaging or your wily phone satellites. Handwritten sentiments are back!

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