I'm sorry I haven't updated for a few days. I wanted to make sure I was good and sunburned before I took a day off from the beach to write a little story for you.
That took one day.
I have an excellent system, which is outlined in the book so I won't go into here in detail since we're dangerously close to that thing coming out and I don't want to spoil any more of it for you, but suffice to say my system failed this time. Well, to be honest, I was going to abandon my old system and try a new one, one where there would be absolutely no pain involved. Just peaceful nights sleeping comfortably in the sweet Caribbean breezes, my slowly browning body content and calm. My old system was based on inevitable sunburn and used damage control as the balm to create the ultimate desired tan. This trip, since I'm going to be here for a month, I figured I could just go nice and slow, you know, use a 10 to start for a couple days and then ease into a 6 or 4 by the end of the first week but by 4 o'clock on the first day here, yesterday, I felt sore and said to Rebecca, I think I better go in the shade. Better safe than sorry.¨ She, of course, had been sporting 15 all day long. Her system.
I hadn't really used the 10 from the jump to be honest. I had lied in the 90 degree noon day tropical sun for 15 minutes au natural, sans any protection at all (I mean lotion wise. I had shorts on. My days of nude sun bathing are gone ever since I burned my dick at a Rainbow Gathering 30 years ago tripping on Mr. Natural. If you've ever burned your dick you know that Michelle Pfeiffer could beg to suck your dick and if she got within five feet of you would throat punch her. As it turned out, that was the least of my troubles. In a decidedly Deliverance-like escapade when leaving the hippy fest in the back woods outside Alpine Arizona, a group of us, two guys and three girls, were picked up by two guys and a girl in a pick up truck. Half way out of the woods they demanded payment in the form of one of our gals joining them in the cab of the truck. When we refused they got out a shotgun. We all grabbed our back packs, jumped out of the back of the truck and ran into the woods and hid. They drove off. A couple hours later a cop car drove down this barren dirt road. It was the first car we had seen since the mongoloid pickup truck people with the gun. We told the cops about it and they said we should sit tight and they would find them. It was getting dark and there was no way out of this forest and we were getting scared. Finally a big ancient Caddy with five Indians in it came along. Without really asking we flagged them down and all piled in, going wherever they were going whether they liked it or not. We drove about a quarter mile and around a bend, there was the cop car sitting on the side of the road. The cops were having a friendly chat with a few of their friends... the fucks from the pick up truck! I mean we were going to be part of a really, really bad movie if the last of the Mohicans hadn't saved us. Then, I put on some 4 for another 15 minutes figuring before I'd mail it in with the 10 and accept a boring Orwellian middle person's Tortugas tanning pace. I would sear in a little color. I went in the amazing ocean, came out and went to the 10. Two hours later was when I felt, unbelievably, a bit too hot and raw and retreated to the wooden canopy near the wooden fence that demarks our bungalows on the wind swept beach.
Three hours later the burn had incubated and I was red as a cunting lobster. So, aloe and Tylenol. 24, seasons 1 though 4 to distract me from the pain until I go to sleep and can not escape it. Fun!
Then, to add insult to injury, one of my favorite cute little Mexican friends who runs the joint I stay in laughed, pat my belly and remarked in broken English, "You have the Starved hat but you have the big belly."
It took me a minute to get the joke. I never wear swag from my own films for obvious reasons but I had brought a Starved baseball cap with me, thinking no one in Mexico saw that show so I wouldn't be foolish wearing it. I forgot that I could be the butt of a different joke even if they hadn't. The fat guy in the baseball cap that says ¨Starved¨on it. Gracias, Lizbet.
The iron chair in this internet shop is hurting my sunburned back. Sorry kids. Gotta go. Three more days of this and then I can hit the beach again. xo e
Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 3:01 PM