So that Jane magazine shit was pretty fresh. Wade was doing his DJ thing, and Birddogg added flavour, and loads of posh women ate canapés and got T Shirts made - there was this totally safe latin dude spraying up vests and shit, and me and the Dogg got matching personalized vests. Mine fits perfectly, Bird’s rides up over his hairy belly and looks totally gay. We bought matching Miami Beach hot pants too. They ruled the beach. Nobody came close. Even Wade and Wynd in their gross blue leopard print speedos. Anyway, that Jane thing - the ladies from Jane were totally sweet, and let me get my short ass up on some crates to rap at the people. The Drinking Song went down particularly well. Ladies love that shit, and it is a joy to watch them dance. We went to this funny indie place after. In Miami, you’re really cool if you put "Britpop" on your flyers. They played Marion. And Morrissey. After me and the Dogg went swimming with the Jane peeps in the SEA! In the DARK! They were scared of sharks. I was like, man, sharks so don’t exist. Steven Spielberg invented them. And I was right. We did not get eaten by sharks. I managed to lose everybody, and Wynd’s address, yet managed to manouvre my squeaky way home by 4 or 5, which was such a fucking relief. My taxi driver was safe as fuck, he was from Brazil, and told me he learned English "properly, the real English" when I come here, they don’t speak the real English, they have this, wrong English! Nobody know what I mean, I say ‘can I have a water?’, They say? ‘Wa-T-er’, like they don’t know? In the end they say, oh, ‘wa-h-deer’. I learn now." The guy also said "I watch Tony Blair on TV, he sound exactly like you," which is so not true!
Yes. Anyway I lost the Dogg, but had this idea he was in this Hotel, which turned out to be true. Wynd took me to the Everglades, and I held a baby alligator and saw tiny dinosaurs and five inch fluorescent orange locusts and trees with roots that grow up out of the ground, and down out of the branches. I think that’s because they’re in salt water, and the rots get pure water out of the air, which is thick and wet and tasty. And there were eagles and buzzards and fucking TURKEY BUZZARDS, which are huge and we went right up by them and they kind of hop skip and jump into flight, cos they’re so fucking fat. I love those things.
The Everglades is so beautiful. It’s like 70 miles of damp lush and what one imagines to be near prehistoric vegetation and wildlife. It so awed my ass, I was like, fuck, fuck a fucking mobile phone, look at those leaves! They’re genius! The way they curl out at the end so the water pools JUST SO...
Oh, oh, oh. I will write in greater detail on this stuff in the tour diary I’m doing for Tank.
Birddogg was in a hotel. He blagged an incredible posh place, got beach service all day, hung out with Ivor Gojohnsten, AKA Chelski FC’s Hitler youth. He also burnt the shit out of his legs and feet, so he’s crippling about Miami right now. I am in New York, because people want to talk to me. Which is nice. It’s good to talk.