8.12.2009
Dear Brother,
This time tomorrow I will be in the sky somewhere over Brazil. I believe, much to my surprise, that I am going to miss this place. Everything feels somehow older here, kind of how I imagine Europe must be. Even though exploration and conquest touched these lands later than the Northern continent, somehow the effects here were not as complete. Back home truly is the New World, nothing remains the same... even Nature has been protected and controlled. But here, the very air I breathe is full of life, an ever present reminder of this land's untamable wildness. Perhaps I had too much to drink last night. I'm honestly surprised to be in such good shape with such clear thoughts this morning. The prospect of a nice, quiet day here in my cottage overlooking the ocean, seems like a perfect way to conclude my time here in Argentina.
I finally wrapped up the business thought brought me here in the first place. Last night marked the first time that all five of us have ever been in the same location together. I had never actually met Steven before, and I must say the whole encounter was quite surreal. We all knew that this actual meeting was merely a formality, all the details had been ironed out and agreed to over a year ago. As you know I had set this whole thing in motion back in 2004, and what I like to call a "guerrilla PR agency" had been creating buzz about the project since the Summer of '07. I had asked Jimbo early on to take the public lead, really he had the least to loose as far as reputation and standing in the community. I had laughed off the suggestion that I keep the top spot. I guess either I'm not thick skinned enough, or maybe I'm just too smart to desire that spotlight. During our meeting last night I recounted some of my recent run-ins with fame... The abduction to the mountain jungle villa and the harrowing episode that has unfortunately separated me from beauty incarnate. "No" I said, "I don't regret for a moment letting Jimbo take the credit for this one". I don't think Steven, Frank or M-Shizzle (that's what Steven was calling him) quite understood my position on this matter, but they toasted me just the same. The remainder of the evening consisted of finalizing some marketing details, and unfortunately quite a bit of adult beverage consumption. Jimbo thought it would be funny, so all night we were downing blue-raspberry Jello shots. I guess it was around 1:30 this morning when I finally took my leave and stumbled back to the cottage.
Perhaps my final letter before seeing you would have been more interesting had I filled it with other experiences of the last eight or nine days. My round-about search for Butch Cassidy's Chilean hideaway, and what I found there. Or maybe the three days and nights I spent with "The French Cannibals", a tribe of natives that exclusively eats French people. (I'm not going to tell you what common household condiment the like to dip French priests in, or why). Instead I felt like an honest depiction of my closing hours here in this beautiful, lush, timeless country would suit this correspondence best. I'll probably phone you from California before this letter arrives, so what point is there in writing any more?
Love,
Edwardo
No comments:
Post a Comment