Porn Party During A Lunar Eclipse

I was desperate for days. Nothing happened, just tourists, no travellers, no stories. I found myself asking for room rates that I didn’t need just for the sake of communication. Today, a porn film unexpectedly bursts upon me during a total eclipse of the full moon. Sodom and Genorrhoea in paradise, revisited.

What happened? Speedboat to Bohol. The windows in the 6kW Tobol-Tagbilaran discobus would have been blown clean off the stereo – if there had ever been any. Hotel La Roca, enlightenment after Kukuk’s nest. But nothing happens. No matter where I look, I’m missing my second pair of eyes. Writing was unexpectedly light and pithy for a month. Now I feel more than half blind.

Jeepney to Panglao Island. Bohol is richer, more beautiful and cleaner than any island before. Nevertheless, the jeepney sets a new top score with 52 passengers on 16 seats. I at least want to surf on the roof, but the jeep attendant is probably afraid of German lawyers. However little wind there is, soon there’s no other option than to surf the jeepney on the rear bullcatcher with my hands clinging to the roof rack.

Citadelle Alona: The WiFi is rocking, I’m working. An Erdinger Weizen on the beach at sunset. A couple of young boys sing Christmas carols to girls shaking their arses quite well. When they answer in baritone, I realise that their vocal chords are probably the only part of their body that hasn’t been operated on yet.

At the hostel, fate brings me the Swedish carpenter Goran. I have Tanduhay rum, he has ice cream and Coke. We make a dream team. His Filipino wife gambles away his money playing cards while his son buys virtual couches in some online game. Meanwhile, he has free house. He welcomes me, I welcome him. A Norwegian draws our attention to the total lunar eclipse that has just taken place. From then on, everything becomes porn.

Helmut’s bar. Old bags, alcohol, syphilis and gonorrhoea in a nice package. Aids posters hang on the loo and the waitresses definitely have more than just a drinks menu. I push on quickly. Goran orders the next drink in a bar on Alona Beach. The girls behind the bar are paid more for shaking their arses than for drinks, even if some bald-headed Germans drooling into their beer glasses might have a different opinion. I want to move on again. Is there any truth left here?

Yes, unfiltered real full moon eclipse porn! The ladyboys from the sunset are waiting for me again at the last disco bar of the evening. My men’s skirt may save me from their groping, but it earns me more than just sharp looks from their turbo-hungry friends. It also seems to sharpen my pornographic zoom. What do I see? Drooling bald men in a sea of young Filipinas. Dance style: thriller, subtly spastic. Hands up, high-five: “Yeah, this is so much fun!”. Fresh meat-slobbering zombies with snot brakes. Yes, the creature in front of you has breasts! No, you’ll get one in the face here too if you grab it before paying.

Is it reprehensible to make such a mockery of this? If you laugh: No! Oh world, thank you! If you didn’t constantly provide me with such great pictures, it would be much harder for me to imagine I was yours. Until then, I’ll just try to get over my hiccups around three in the morning. Rest in peace, dear world!