Coming soon on Good Jobbbb:

  • More Internet
  • More occluded life-jams
  • Jasmine Tea Houses
  • Concert memories
  • Sheafed Knifes
  • Leaflet Porn
  • Campesinos
  • Campesongos
  • Campebongos
  • Chupacabras (marijuana cigarette dipped in wine/malt liquor–blend)
  • Tea-tree oil cigarettes (aka Natural Mentholz, no toothpix allowed)
  • Knee Braces
  • Dental Braces
  • Neck Braces
  • Neck Laces
  • Shoe Shines
  • Torpor
  • Torpid Speedos (Aka Torpedoes)
  • Nudity
  • Fruitidy (aka Fruitopia)
  • “Sporne Identity”
  • Sweepsteaks
  • Nut crouchers (secret)
  • Drugs
  • “Teen Drogas” (TV)
  • Plumes of Kindness
  • Vanishing Plumes of Kindness

duty free

I have been given a bottle of Cachaça Sabiá. Tonight I drank it and then shaved. Imagine me, sugar-drunk, hacking at my neck with a Mach 3, singing the old Brazilian songs! That’s inaccurate—that’s not how I shave. Today on the street we saw a man use a whip to whack a cigarette out of someone else’s mouth—three quick strokes toward the nose, in between much verbal build-up. That’s how I shave—with a whip, and cigarettes, and another man. After I shaved I went back to practicing that gesture they have here, the one that means “Yes, I am enthusiastic about doing that” or “Hurry up over there.” You whip your index finger into your thumb and the middle one, and even without any snapping it sounds like you’re snapping. You snap your wrist, but that’s it—nothing above the wrist is snapped. It’s done best by the guy who’s moving to San Francisco soon, the journalist who’s changing jobs to be a test subject at a newly opened psychedelics-research institute, where he’ll be working with Quilty—just kidding! Quilty will not be administering treble doses of jimson weed to him via eye dropper twice a day, for no pay—the whole operation’s volunteer-run. The eye dropper will have been donated, and inappropriate for clinical use. Not long ago the gesturing journalist brought back two hundred lucid-dream-inducing pills from a seminar in Hawaii. “You can do anything,” he told us. “You can fly; you can fuck.” “But when you wake up, do you still feel tired?” my coworker asked him. In America, his gesture can’t mean much besides “There’s something stuck to my hand,” but I will learn it.

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