Im back in rio after going home to the states for the holidays.Im back to my life after going home for vacation. where does the real life begin. seeing friends has made me a bit lonely back here in brazil. Im living at bobs, the english painter with the big house in the favella. tavares bastos is an old cobblestone hill in catete. Im living up past the last titled house with papers where the sprawling cubes of ceramic brick squat on nipple shaped bedrock....the electrical lights here get strung from poles to windows, and women hang thier clothes between rough open squares and a neighbors wall, the black and white dogs live like little bloated sailboats one minute to the next killing time draped over steps by empty beer bottles. cats swager, kids pop fiecrackers and homemade kites tied to coffeecans wound with string fight all afternoon over wind routes. I take motobike cabs up and down the hill but at night. the switchbacks are invisible and the only way I know we are going up, is cause I hear the two stroke strain angainst my thighs and I watch over my shoulder where the ocean makes polkadot victims out of faint cargo ships bobbing in the harbor. I like it here, its like bed stuy on a saturday night. Ive got a studio with a view of sugarloaf, and I brought back little jewels from nyc that I bought in the market. I met a girl in nyc, and when I kissed I swear it all went white. my mind the night sky, her lips like a hiroshima blast full of burning babies and scarred flesh. I thought of sweet diesel, and the east river drive. she made me want to go fast, and get shipwrecked in her cab ride home, I forgot everything about brazil, and sundays by myself and whatever else got left behind. Im using rio like a bandaid now, and for the moment its still working