allow me to introduce...

i woke, and stumbled outside of the granny apple camper just in time to unleash a cattle-like, austin powers-esque blast of liquid that had been brewing all night somewhere within me. when the sirens of pressure evacuation were done flashing, i didnt even have time to stand, hands on hips, and proudly beam down on my own version of the nile. no, because i heard the obvious, and by now obligatory chicken emulation, followed by a screechy, yet strangely uplifting, rendition of "hello!!" shes the only person I know that puts two exclamations and a smiley face after her 'hellos' - and you can practically see them materialize from mouth, squeezing through the empty gap in her teeth, which is a direct result of her being 'really good at running into trees.' thats true talent. and oh yeah, good morning to you too.

meet my host, parrot: self-proclaimed geek (her email signature is in binary), old school punk rock junkie, banjo picker, human being version of internet movie database, avid collector of jesus christ paraphernalia, talented cigarette roller, chicken pie connoisseur, number crunching tax agent. while im at it, good luck.

much has been born from my time here in punakaiki, on the rugged west coast of the south island. ive learned a lot from parrot, especially about spirituality. my growth in this department has sprouted from what we call 'cracker ceremonies.' i wasnt religious until that little square of feta, butter, and olive first collided with my taste buds. god rays burst from the clouds. people can stereotypically joke all they want about having tea and crackers, but as a new convert, i would be first in line to surrender myself to martyrdom for the cause.

sometimes i think that she might turn down the volume, or even stop talking. but even though she looks away constantly, the taps to the stream of knowledge remain permanently stuck on open. a well placed contact of the wild eyes is only used to punctuate her more profound points, namely 'hes a complete wanker' or 'for fuck all.' there isnt even time to laugh, as shes already lapped you if you take out the time to utter a sound, let alone attempt to rescue that olive that just decided to abandon, and subsequently run away from your feta topped cracker.

the camo bandanna has to be some type of external hard drive for her brain, and you can see how the immense heat radiating from her dome piece has already toasted her hair, causing the extreme curls, as if theyre pleading mercy to her speed injected neurons. want proof? shes the only person that ive ever met that knows about my parents spiritual guru. yeah, that was covered, if im not mistaken, between an oral history of south american politics, and a story of her playing 'follow the bumper sticker' and 'find the worst diner EVER' on her trip through the bible belt, an apparently obvious location for vacation. by the way, such a diner can be found in tennessee.

although one of her first confessions to me was that 'i swear,' theres a big red 'x' through both piss or weed, as there really is no need for any stimulants other than robust, rapidly rolled cigarettes and coffee. life is enough. anyone within megaphone earshot will understand. when asked about all the money saved as a result of the 'anti-frat' tude? well, as the story goes, that has clearly gone towards a much more useful pursuit - 'heroin.' dont laugh now, or youll miss the story about her pink haired, transgender friend hannah, from seattle, or maybe of that time she held the drunk drivers brains in his head after the accident.
or many, many, more.

as i said. good. luck.