The Human Dimension
The third world is addictive, the very lack of superficial development something attractive in itself, the sights and sounds and noises and smells and total lack of order. I get an erection just thinking about it.
I also get a stinging sensation in my mouth. I get the same sensation the next day in my anal orifice if I go too far with the hot chili peppers. I prefer other feelings.
If I’m lucky, then my stomach gets the same empty feeling you get from free-fall–vacuum, the natural feeling of weightlessness. I live for that feeling, and it certainly beats any other feeling that stomachs are capable of.
But the best part of the so-called Third World is not its food, its landscapes, nor its women. The best part is its unpredictability, the very fact that you don’t know what to expect from one day to the next. In that respect, it’s a lot like love, and like love, it gets boring if that’s the only basis to it.
You have to keep trying new places to get that original feeling. But there’s no reason to feel guilty, because that’s what we are, the trip monkeys. We like to get around, and we like to get off. That’s what it is to be human, and that’s what makes us so successful. Other animals wander around; we’re driven. And that’s kandy-kolored tangerine-flake streamline, baby…