Quoting Rich Dellarockstar “its inspiring to see a fellow rocket reach the moon”

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Boston, MA. Divorces are an ugly thing. Especially in this day and age, when they come at you a dime a dozen. Sometimes a divorce will happen so quickly, that you are forced to post all you and your ex’s possessions on Craig’s list, in an attempt to “Take the Money and Run,” as my second favorite Miller once put it. Thus is the case here, as I stumbled across this post while looking for a late night rub and tug from one of “the lists” well known professionals.

Note: Please call, like the ad says, if she dosen’t get back to you.

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Antigua, Guatemala:
Traveling on a 22 hour Chicken bus from Nicaragua to Guatemala, I met one of the most dangerous people I have every encountered. His name was Garcia and he claimed to have been thrown out of the U.S. three times and to have killed men in Honduras, el Salvador, and Guatemala. Though he came off as being a heartless murderer, he proved to be sensitive, kind, and even offered to pay for my hooker once we reached Guatemala City. I respectfully declined but was happy to have met his acquaintance.

This is the photo I snapped as our bus was getting searched at a checkpoit in el Salvador.  Garcia is in the red hat up front. The man in the grey polo in the backround is trying to warn me to not take any pictures of this process. (Pryer San Diego 2009, all rights reserved)

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If we were obliged to love all the people we find attractive, things would be pretty ghastly, don’t you think?-from The Guermantes Way by Marcel Proust-

(CHINATOWN, BOSTON) - I am the only man left at the Boston offices (I’ve moved in) and they call Duke “The Boston Marmaduke”? Makes a load of sense boys, but then again I got my nickname from CSPAN–about the most bland source you could find–when looking in vain for that hot piece Geraldine Ferraro, I watched Sen. Abraham Van Dognose address the floor. He is a courageous Senator born into a poor Bavarian neighborhood ten miles east of Berlin, New Hampshire. After leaving Colby, Sen. Dognose wrote fake stories for a psychadelic farmer’s almanac distributed along the White River in the 1960s. But, I digress talking about heroes; this world is in need of no heroes for we haven’t a clue what to do with them…certainly not learn anything from them.

I remember a time not too long ago when fake news was a powerful and critical source of information. The days of throwing glass ashtrays against some poor neighbors window just to know when to watch “ER”  are over. The iPhone is so annoyingly useful, people are going to want to shit through them.

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Granada: Nicaragua:

La otorafía es más facíl en español, asi que voy a escribir ese articulo en epañol.  Pero nadien va a comprenderme, mejor Inglés.  I love spelling or so says the Chief, in all his self -righteous glory.  Back to the good stuff.  I have been tripping on acid for the past three days, ever since I left the the Goatman on Isla Ometepe.  Eveything is better on acid.  Let me explain.

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Isla Ometepe: Nicaragua.

I have been gone for a month now, or maybe more.  I can´t seem to remember.  When I woke up on the overnight bus I was back in Panama in a small village outside of Bocas del Toro.  Since then I have met up with a Shaman named Eduardo Josë Ramirez, but whom everyone refers to as Goatman.  Goatman is a spiritual advisers and leads people on trips on San Pedro (similar to Peyote) and has taken me under his wing, dosing me daily on different hallucinagenitcs and helping me to see the spiritual side of the universe.  Since then the days have blurred together to a dream like world where time no longer exists.  We have ¨borrowed¨ a wealthy clients boat and drove it to Isla Ometepe and are here to find the spirit of this ancient island.

(Goatman explaining the difference between peyote and san pedro)

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Sturbridge, Ma:

Here I sit, in my comfy cozy house deep in the woods of Old Sturbridge Village.  I am plotting and stewing, and I can already feel the sweet sweat drip down my neck from the 90 degree heat of the Panamanian Jungle.  Yes, I am off again on the lonesome road, and will soon be in a place where no one has seen or heard of Pryer San Diego or dontpry.com for that matter.  I am traveling through eight countries in 78 days and will most likely get kidnapped by gorillas or o.d. on coffee along the way (or so says the Chief).  Sometimes the truth is stanger then fiction, and I am about to prove that to be the case.

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Mouth Sewn Shut

All Asia Café

December 11, 2008

Cast of Characters: All Caucasians

Popular Drinks: PBR draughts

Amenities: Free Merlinmoon digital download cards!

Suggested accessories: handlebar mustache, earplugs 

I’ve lived in the Central Square vicinity for three years, but had never once ventured into All Asia Café until last week. Comparing Central’s music venues to cheeseburger establishments (why not), the Middle East is like R.F. O’Sullivans- a reliably good neighborhood spot with no pretension and generous proportions of solid local flavor. TT the Bears could be compared to Charlie’s Kitchen- cheeseburgers of a questionable quality but cheapness and a sense of nostalgia continue draw me in. All Asia- perhaps a free cheeseburger distributed in the YMCA cafeteria or something served at the Cantab? Buoyed by a free bottle of champagne at the Middle East (I can admit my bias), our crew ventured out in the pouring rain to see our friends’ band, Mouth Sewn Shut, at All Asia last week. I was expecting some sort of Asian theme to the place, and was hopeful about the presence of mai tais, but was met instead by a regular sort of dive bar with a bartender from the cast of Trainspotting serving up PBRs. Rather than some sort of violent dancing to accompany the music of a band called TheMurder, we were treated to some Bollywood style hands-in-the-air, head-to-the-sky moves by a middle aged gentleman and a small but dedicated fan base yelling the words to every song. As I told the young bartender who asked me to return to visit him during his Saturday shift, I’m not sure when I’ll next return to All Asia; I was both disappointed and relieved by the lack of violent grubbiness I’d expected.

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Panama City, Panama

Violence and bloodshed occured again today in the streets of Panama City, right where this humble pryer plans to land in less then six weeks.  Angry construction workers and disgruntled teachers joined the protests and burned effigies of President Martin Torrijos, promising “sticks, stones and molotovs” if the reform proposals became law. 

Molotovs…  Molotov Cocktail?  Sounds like a tasty adult beverage served best on the rocks and not burning someone’s face off.  What is a Molotov Cocktail and where did this word come from.  I shall pry.  (And I might just make one of my own for Thanksgiving)

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