CLICK ON UNDERLINED STUFF TO READ STORIES REFRENCING THE SUBJECTS OF THE PHOTOS

Below is the ACTUAL photo from the hooker story "The Ugly One" (click here to read it)

...referenced as if the photo were a clock; items include:

1) (@ 7:00) The dirty socks I took off so as not to choke her out...

2) (@ 12:00) The condoms and the beer bottle...

3) (@6:00) Colones, with which to pay her...

4) (@ 3:00) On the bed; the lighter...

5) (Between 12 & 1) Notice the tiny, white, cylindrical speck sharing the upper right hand tile with the bed post; that is the half of a joint we smoked

before she ran out on me...

Below to the left are the cabinas where I stayed during my two months. My room was the upper left corner where the sign is hung. In the bottom right is the "soda" where we ate and drank coffee and studied Spanish every morning. Way deep in the back, in the hallway in the middle; that's where my office was. My computer. The balcony across the top, that's where the masturbating guy was that one night.

Above to the right is a portion of the family who owned the cabinas where I stayed. The girl to the left was so beautiful, yet so young, that it made us want to die. When I was sick she heard me coughing through my cabina door and when I emerged one morning, she snuck up on me in my haze, tapped me on the shoulder and poured a spoonful of honey down my throat. It may have been the most romantic moment of my life (if that's not sad enough). She used to clean my room. Who knows what she found. Next to her, to her right, is her brother Jeffrey. That white dot on his cheek is acne medication.

Below is Matapalo. I slept there one morning with some boring hippy girls who let me use their tent. I was awakened by a horrible wretching smell, and crawled out of my tent to find all these fish curing in the sun all around us, and some dark Tico fishing family waving at me from their camp in the forest. These were only about 25% of the fish. It was awe inspiring in vision and odor. I knelt down and took the picture to the left and then spun 180 degrees to take the one on the right.

.

To the left is a picture of Tica girl, Carol, who I used to hit on, until I found out she was 16-years-old. Her dog's name is Pinky. Below, to the right, is a picture of another girl I used to hit on...

Until I found out she was 5-years-old.

Just kidding.

This is the daughter of the family who owned the cabina. She was so adorable. Her and her cute little girlfriends used to hang out with me in my office, and while I was stoned and typing they'd buffudle me with Spanish and play with my tape recorder. Her dog's name was Piggy. Piggy was very sketchy, as if someone beat her at some point (the family found her, she was a stray). If you notice, Piggy is leaning to the left, as if wanting to get away from the attention she is being given, though I know, deep down, Piggy enjoyed it (for some reason I relate to that feeling)

This little MonchiChi is Moyes, the youngest son. He was pretty much my Spanish teacher. As I worked on my writing, Moyes would crawl into my lap and babble in Spanish, asking me questions I didn't understand, and I'd just repeat everything he said. That used to frustrate little Moyes and he'd almost cry with frustration, but he was even cuter when he was frustrated, so, whatever...

Below and to the left is a type of tree that no photo can do justice; It displayed the whole color chart, in order, around its trunk, in phosphorescent, psychedelic tones like a black-light poster... Legend has it that, if you hold a black light up to the tree, Jim Morrison's face will appear. But the Costa Ricans didn't have electricity, and thus no blacklights. You can kind of see ol' Jim M. in this pic, at the bottom-iddle of the tree.

To the right is El Gulfo Dulce. This particular picture was taken out the back door of a bar called El Rancho, where we hung out just about every night, and where much of our hooker action took place. El Gulfo Dulce (The Sweet Gulf) looks really pretty (you can vaguely see the gorgeous moutain skyline receding into the distance) but there were actually cow parts in the water, and I contracted a pimply rash on my crotch from swimming here, thus viloating the old hippy adage "Take only memories, leave only footprints"..

Below are Buck (right) and John (left) with their heads under the hood of John's Astro Van trying to fix it in the hot jungle sun. Guess where I was? That's right, chilling in the front seat with my feet up on the dash watchin these two fags sweat. Ha ha. John is actually the guy who talked me into moving to New Orleans, and since coming here I've sweat my share...

As John drove me to the airport on my last day in Costa Rica, I realized I hadn't taken any photos of the main strip of the village, so I started snapping pics randomly as we departed in the Astro Van (after they fixed it...ha ha). I think it's very telling that I ended up with only a picture of the liquor store (left) and the school (right) where the toothless hooker taught during the day (the place where she winked at me from the window as she taught class)