I'm Back!

Za!

So my internet connection was a bit sketchy over, well the last four months, if that is indeed possible (which it is).  Anyhow, I am back and will try and update this blog more regularly. Firstly, I love it here in Mongolia. Secondly, I finished my third novel, Roger Grate, Sukh Dev. Thirdly (yes numbering points in an article is amateur I know), I finished NaNoWriMo last month, and my novel is currently titled, Life is a Beautiful Thing. Below is an excerpt:

Currently, I am getting drunk off pollutes with a pregnant woman three days before Halloween at a pollution bar in Los Angeles. She is a tall chick with a silver neck, reptilian scales on her belly caused by a recent application of C-Baby, and an earthy mala bead necklace tied together by a crimson thread that hangs perfectly between her ample breasts. As I speak to her, she closes her eyes and logs into iNet. I reach for a pollution mask, strap it onto my face, and inhale deeply. Life is a beautiful thing.

“So do you want to switch bodies?” I ask her, pushing the pollution mask to the top of my forehead.

“I’m talking to my friend Usher about it,” she says, keeping her eyes closed. “Maybe…” she says with a giggle. She keeps her eyes closed for another couple of minutes, laughing randomly at whatever it was Usher was telling her on GoogleFace.

 “So you will think about it?” I ask, excited that I might be able to switch bodies. I take off the pollution mask, set it on a hook in front of the bar, and smile at her. The pollution mask resembles a plague doctor mask. It has a long beak-like nose to allow excess pollution to linger and emerald polypropylene eye lenses. The nose is connected to a tube above the bar. It is strapped to the back of the head using a thick pleather strap with a titanium buckle. The nicer ones are made from real leather and on rare occasions, exotic animal skulls.

“Yea, but if you don’t play your cards right, I’ll have to reconsider,” Nelly says, opening her eyes. She reaches for her pollution mask and pulls it down over her forehead. There is something different about her gait, as if she isn’t used to coming to this pollution bar or perhaps, not used to the commotion of the ground floor level.

“I’ll have two Naked Lunches and one Loathing Hunter,” I say, turning to the bartender. The bartender pulls out one of his dreadlocks and starts to clean three shot glasses with it. Nothing like getting drunk off pollutes. He positions the dreadlock above the first shot glass. An antifreeze colored liquid begins trickling out of the end of his dreadlock.

“You want an Ayahuasca topper?” he asks, looking at me through a pair of Leaks.

“Sure,” I say, glancing at Nelly’s stomach. “It will do the baby good.”