Day 232: I’m Alive And It’s Christmas.

It’s been a minute since my last message.

Every time I sit down to write the story of Ray LaMontange (played by Bradly Cooper) falling in love against impossible odds, I find myself pleasantly distracted.

So instead of writing a complete volume of Ray LaMontange (played by Bradley Cooper) having weird alien sex with a lizard man, I’ve decided to jump back into the blog fray and share the experiences I’m having with anyone who cares to read about them.

Lot’s has happened since Slurpton and Ray lemontange (played by Bradley Cooper) came into my life.

Chiefly, I’ve spent a month exploring the bizarre magic of Ghana.

From Canopy walks.

To waterfall excursions.

Swimming to remote islands to collect sea shells.

And my time at Afro Nation.

Currently I’m dealing with a fairly ridicules case of hookworm.

Yup, I said Hookworm.

Over a hundred by my estimation, causing all kinds of havoc on my physical self.

Hookworms are little worms that grow from pooy sand.

Busuas pooy sand, specifically.

How they managed to swim into my feet and forearms, is beyond me?

Having them is a real nightmare.

These little worms are crawling around my skin freer than I can pass through Africa.

Making my skin feels like its going to explode.

Despite parts of me looking like Robert the Bruce’s dad.

My spirits are high.

I’m taking lots of medication to kill these hitchhikers.

400mg of Albendazole- twice a day, to kill the worms.

10mg of Primalan three times a day to reduce itching.

500mg of Cephalexin 4 times daily- for the skin infection I’m suffering from.

And weed.

Which, no kidding, is making me less itchy.

Despite parts of me looking like I have leprosy, I feel pretty good.

So sit back, relax and enjoy these disturbing photos.

And a video.

https://vimeo.com/382478571

Now, who’s hungry?

Day 229: I Swear To God I’m Going To Cut My Fucking Arms Off If These Worms Don’t Stop Swimming Under My Skin.

What would you sacrifice to experience paradise?

Me?

I gave flesh.

Little bugs that live in the sand and probably on a dog named Scorpion, who habitually licks my face, here in the western region of Ghana, in a remote surf town called Busua, are at this very moment, feasting on me like locusts preceding a prophecy.

They’ve invisibly initiated a coordinated offensive toward my torso.

Last night I lathered myself in hand sanitizer, and hydrogen peroxide.

Like a fucking crazy person.

I smell like vinegar.

The momentary burning on all he little bumps was a brief respite from the most intense call to itch I’ve ever experienced.

WHAT ARE YOU!!

SHOW YOURSELF!

COWARDS!

I’m infected by cowards.

Despite looking like a three year old put small red stickers all over my naked body, my spirits are high.

I danced in low tide ocean as the full moon basked me in beautiful moonlight.

The stars ever watching, danced for me.

Powering me to a degree where my brain broke and out poured questions that heaved my essence to a pillar above the one I’ve been standing on for a great many years.

I grew.

So to speak.

When I love myself unconditionally, I tend to fall in love with others.

An other.

A beautiful other.

But my attention is on the worms, and how their magically making me look like the Crypt keeper.