DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry #163- surprise, you're dead !

فيزا
October 23, 1992
Memphis, Tennessee

Sabah alkhair, buongiorno, good morning and good morning recap with me, Cherry aka Cleopatra aka Tori aka Jennifer aka none of the names above is mine at the registry office ! Today I woke up in a good mood, super good mood actually! We are in Memphis, Tennessee, and I have a massive backache from having 'slept' a few hours on the driver's seat of the bus with Sean, that in the weirdest posture ever... but besides that, all good here! He safely (we almost crashed three times, but it was fun) drove us to the city where the band will play a show tonight, we're all alive and with all limbs still attached to ourselves, and it's all that matters !

We arrived here in the early hours of the morning, we slept some in the parking lot of the hotel because we were supposed to check in for our rooms after 10:30AM... and this may as well be the most homeless and displaced I've ever felt in my life, but man if homelessness is making me happy! I mean, how could I not be happy to wake up in the arms of my man, kiss him, and listen to his very detailed account on how I fell asleep under him while he still wasn't done with cleaning up the sticky mess he'd made of my nethers, and before he got to wish me a good night? That, just mere minutes before we started our brand new day with yet another amazing bang and a much needed post coitus joint? My kinda life ! Messy, but happy, and with excellent sex and weed in it!

After our morning tryst, I cried because of the lack of showers in the bus... still, I did my best to refresh myself in the sink, as my usual. Given my very good mood, I decided to put some effort in my appearance, and I even got to do my makeup and my hot exotic girl beauty routine. That, while my beautiful, feathered son was nesting in the hollow of my neck, and my boyfriend was picking which one of the four identical black T-shirts he owns to wear for the day. In the end, he chose the one that looks exactly like the other three ones, and paired it with the ugly fucking checkered shorts he had on the night I met him. Still, he was out there looking better than I could ever, that with literally zero effort on his side, and three hours of sleep on himself. How the fuck does he do that? And why has he picked up the habit of never taking off the necklace that I made for him while I was in New York? Awwww, so sweet! I should make him a couple matching bracelets!

Lips lined with my usual, most trusted, almond brown liner from back home, eyes hair all braided up in minuscule braids that my mom taught me to do, and dressed like the ethnic boho groupie of your most vivid 70s nightmares, I took the day by the balls, my homelessly clad boyfriend by the hand, and I sneaked out of the tour bus with him. In search of coffee, because I was more asleep and awake ... and in search of a pharmacy, because I needed Advil more than I actually needed caffeine. What a shocker.

I downed two cups of long coffee from a nearby cafe, both of them offered by Sean, may god damn him or bless him or a mix and match of both things for that. He somehow, miraculously let me pay for a pack of Advil tablets at the nearest pharmacy... and half an hour after I downed a tablet with nothing but saliva, like the Spartan that I am, I'm feeling just about fine. The massive headache is gone, my lower back still hurts a little from the weird sleeping posture of last night, but the little morning walk through this slum... I mean, neighbourhood reinvigorated me a little, and gave me hope that I'll be going to make it to the end of this day without any major issues.

When Sean and I got back on the tour bus, we found none aboard, but Cock Soup. Cock Soup, squawking and calling us mama and papa, and a note written on a napkin by Layne. Man wrote us a beautiful poem that went more or less like 'we are checking in at the hotel, what y'all doing, fucking in the bushes?', he drew us a beautiful, stylised penis and a just as beautiful, deformed and hairy vagina... and Sean and I just looked at eachother, laughed, and decided that maybe checking in at the reception desk of the umpteenth Marriott hotel wouldn't have been too much of a bad idea.