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Ela é muita areia para o caminhãozinho dele.

Jul 21, 2008

Brasilian Flavored Anxiety: Tastes Like Pork

Last night I lay in bed suffering from a mild heart attack flavored something like this: What….the….fuck….is….wrong….with….me…..?

You see, I moved to Brasil and I think i’m going to throw up. I don’t know how any of this shit works. Here are a few of my anxieties in outline form:

  1. I don’t speak Portuguese and as smart and good with languages that I think I am, I’m not.
  2. I won’t be able to find a place to live.
  3. And when I find a place they won’t rent to me.
  4. And when they do rent to me it won’t have anything in it. No refrigerator, no stove no nothing.
  5. And if I can get that stuff it’ll be in a terrible neighborhood and my neighbor across the hall will kill me.
  6. And you will all eulogize me as an adventurous bon vivant but god will know that I’m just a chickenshit.
  7. And god’ll be pissed about a bunch of other shit, too.

I know this isn’t the best 2nd Brasil post but it is. It’s unfortunate because I’ve already done some amazing things. Including, but not limited to the following:

  • Hung out at a super cool bar until the wee hours of the morning, making new friends and enjoying old ones.
  • Jumped off a cliff with a parachute dragging behind me (ok, and a Brasiian dude attached to me) and paragliding way the fuck up. 650 meters they said. It’s hard to say because as you may have heard, I don’t fucking speak the Portuguese (pics and video to follow).
  • Was invited to a pasta party by the previously mentioned new friends and talked and drank and smoked until 8 am. I think i met the coolest people in all of Brasil.
  • A bike ride (a short one only to evidence that my bike arrived safely).
  • A swim (a short one only to evidence that I’m faster than Steve).
  • Amazing Feijoada at TiaRe’s.

The other day I tried to explain The Grey Album to a girl (they fucking love the Beatles down here and don’t know who the fuck Jay-Z is). She didn’t get it. Later when I explained that I just packed up and picked up and blasted down here, she gasped and said, “What’s her name?”

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one.

I would like to be famous. Help me out:
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5 Comments, Comment or Ping

  1. josh

    sounds like you’re winning to me. i mean, i haven’t done that much fun stuff in all of 2008. i’m sure you’ll cowboy up.

    Jul 21st, 2008

  2. Cole

    Way to live life, J. Life, by the way, has been described as the thing that happens while people are busy making plans. I’m certain you are playing it extremely cool, like you do. I’m excited for you. And extremely jealous.

    Jul 21st, 2008

  3. hoogland

    I remember that feeling well. When I went to Budapest, realized that the Hungarians didn’t know English, that I didn’t know Hungarian, and that I didn’t know a single person within 8000 miles…it’s mighty lonesome. But you already know some people and apartments have a way of working out.

    Whatever happened to those Portuguese lessons?

    Jul 22nd, 2008

  4. poshdeluxe

    i think it’s only natural to worry about all of that stuff, but it’s obvious that you’re already making a life, a good life, for yrself down there. sure, you don’t have an apartment yet, but you DO have friends. and i think (at the risk of sounding hokey– who am i kidding, i AM hokey) friends are really the key element to feeling at home.

    Jul 22nd, 2008

  5. Doneski

    They probably don’t know who Jay-Z is because DIPLO hasn’t played it to them yet.

    Jul 22nd, 2008

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