The Sea-Bitch-Kit

Hola, hola. Let me just state beforehand that I have absolutely no intention to make you understand what I’m about to express. But if you do, good for you. Bueno?

You see, the sea is where all the bitches are at. LoveBitches. Sharp toothed, fast gold diggers. Faces shaped like ass-shaped hearts, asses shaped like baboon ass-shaped hearts. They want your food to fill their iron factory-made stomachs. They will muzzle their ass-shaped faces against your thigh and get your attention. They will show you love; sloppy, slobbery, slippery love. They will objectify themselves in the most Kardarshian way possible, grinding up and down, up and down against the dance pole. Up and down. But the moment you pick them up and cuddlesmother them, they suddenly have a problem. Cuddlesmother the ass-cupid, and suddenly he is the son of Venus. Venus is hot as fuck. Of course, you understand by now that I’m not calling any person a bitch. Especially not a woman, they run the world. Love, the idea of being in love and the betrayal that follows is. It’s like suddenly you have a fucking restraining order down your throat, the collar around your neck strangling you. The world’s a bitch. Love’s a bitch. All things that can be generalized, categorized and casually thrown around like your ex’s underwear is. Amores Perros.

Look Maa, I’m a grown up man now. I’m going to accomplish so much in this world that you’ll forget the bad times we’ve left behind us. There lies a sea ahead of me, though. But I don’t want to swim on it. You know Maa, how I was always afraid of swimming, ever since I thought I’d drown when I was 8? You always told me, that one day, even the ocean would be small. It’s not the vastness of the sea that scares me, Maa, it is the sound. The perpetuating, endearing sound of the waves travelling through time and eternity. You know that sound…

Calm, like the frightening sea waves…

Ssshhhrrrrrooooooowwwwwwww… Fffroooowwwwww… Srrooww… (Repeat till the salt water fills your lungs, and your blood and muscles slowly release the oxygen).

I’m a big boy now, Maa. I’ll conquer my own fear of drowning in my mind. There are ships now to conquer the sea. There are some kinds of love you don’t assign an adjective to.

Hey world, come dancy dancy hugh dancy, for we will sing the song of the sea-bitch-kit, for I haven’t seen Seabiscuit. It was about a fucking horse anyway.

The potion (poison) rests on my skin, spreading the calm

Not like seawater, but the freshwater parch-re-hydrating balm.

Love’s a bitch, a bitch, a bitch, a bitch, a bitch.

Dance in the debauchery, mortal witchy witch

Do not call her a bitch… Do not call her a bitch… Do not call her a bitch…

Do not call her a bitch (Love@5instances):

  1. The white cotton hill slept right beside me when I was a few months old, and I’ve heard the story so many times. She would suddenly be on all fours, that tiny creature, and growl at imaginary dragons, daring to disturb her master’s son. Look at Shanky’s eyes, my dad used to say, and you will find the sea in them. White, cataracty foams and the blue glass surrounding it.
  2. She looked at me, gave me an appreciative nod, as I was singing for the first time on stage. You got this, she eyed, like really, you got this. I’m still looking for her name. Ah, Eye-to-Eye make happy killer love.
  3. She slowed down her car when she was just next to us, lowered her window, and said, “Probably the best decision of your lives, guys.” And gave us a smile that we’d never forget. She had faith in us. “Yeahhhh bro, Audrey’s a chick magnet,” Arush, my roommate said as I was still thinking. Audrey, the 30 day old Labrador we would go on to raise. She’ll turn a year old in two weeks, that saint-clownwolf, and eleven months, and countless people have told us: Best decision of your lives.

4. She just asked me if I had a cigarette. I said yes and gave her one. She was really attractive. It was nice knowing you, she said, with no other words being exchanged. Being inside my room, depressed, for months, it was a high point for many weeks to come.

5. He just gave an all-understanding smile, and I was like, Shit, what would this guy think if he read my mind? Did he? I should not be giving up on life so easily.

Love is always attacked. But it is as inexplicable and multi-faceted as the supposedly dirty euphemisms we give it. Bitch is not a bad thing to be called. Bitches have changed me, for better. Always.

I hate the sea. It’s unconquerable exterior, along with my fear of drowning don’t always give me a good feeling when I see the sea on its face. But then, I go and play with the waves a little, get sand in my pocket, and taste the saltwater. And I jump with the waves, letting them drag me with sand under my feet, slipping away and coming back gradually. Then I go and sit a little away from the shore, counting the waves as they come and recede. The feeling it gives, it’s not exactly like the moment when you look deeply in someone’s eyes when you realize that you understand them, and kiss them quickly and move away, but in fact it is the silence that follows, the questioning, the closure, and then the silence again. It is kind of warm, the sea. The sea loves me, and sometimes I love it back.