Darling Belladonna

Hoop and I were already pretty high on the anticipation of our upcoming vacation when Nash suggested we go out drinking. So maybe I wasn't as careful to milk my drinks as I normally do. Within the first half hour I was feeling the effects of the martinis, which turned out to be less rum-and-pineapple and more rum-with-pineapple-garnish. The three boys, who were only drinking beer, had to clear a pitcher each just to catch up. "I have to call Allison when I'm drunk." I reminded them repeatedly. "I PROMISED." "I think you're already drunk." Hoop laughed.

Finding no reason to disagree, I dialed her number. Unfortunately, Allison was also out drinking and couldn't hear her phone over the music. Nash suggested I sooth my itchy finger by drunk dialing the President instead. Even tipsy I wasn't foolish enough to do it. So I handed my phone over to Nash and Bob instead. Hoop's convinced the FBI is tracking us now. "White house," A female voice answered. "Yeah, I'm trying to get ahold of President Bush," Nash said politely. "Their offices are closed until Monday morning, 9 am." "What time do they open Monday morning?" Bob slurred.

"9 am." There was an edge to her voice now. "How long is the average wait time to speak to a liaison?" "You really need to speak to the staff on Monday, sir." Bob, clearly losing focus, asked her what time the office opened again. "I already told you that." The rep was starting to get pissed. "I'm sorry ma'am. I have bad reception. I have Cingular." Then he thanked her, told her he loved her and hung up the phone. If anyone else is interested in making a total ass out of themselves to some poor sap stuck answering the President's phone on a Saturday night, call this number: 1-202-456-1414.

Afterward, we took pictures pretending to destroy things around town...


Hey look, a floating door!

On our way back toward the house, we crossed paths with a bum. "Spare a dollar?" He asked. "What will you do for it?" Bob called back. I think it's pretty obvious who our instigator is now. The bum wobbled on the spot, obviously drunk. "Could we get a picture with you? Or maybe a video?" Nash suggested. "I'll tell you a poem!" We all snickered. I honestly expected something along the lines of Dr. Seuss. What came out instead was simply shocking. I've translated it below for you. The video was far too dark to post. I've researched and it doesn't appear to be something published. I call it "Darling Belladonna". Enjoy. I'll have more stories for you tomorrow!

On the street it's straight.
Western philosopher living in an Eastern world.
Dividing illusion from reality.
On the path to becoming enlightened.
The door to another galaxy.
A white dove flying at night.
Zig-zags out of perception-
-and hands you the key to knowledge.
An hourglass ticking and running low.
Following the steps and seeds of destiny.
Performing acts of respect for power-
-in a manner of natural assurance.
His boiling mind, it stands out far like a tunnel.
A vision of illness within a star.
Bringing him further into the world-
-of the protector and the hidden.
Wide awake with horror, with fear.
Recalling recollections of an ancient time.
Swimming through dreams of sparkling light.
Down to the gates of eternity.
And by the way darling Belladonna.
Open your hands so we can dance.