Epic adventures of sex, drugs, nature, strange characters, and new experiences are my favorite part of life.
This life is all we have and its the greatest time in history to be alive. Every single one of us has the opportunity to live richer than the kings of the past have lived.
Travel is relatively cheap and easy, airplanes are miracles that can take you to another culture in an instant, and the internet makes scheduling, transportation and mapping a cinch.
Two important journeys I went on this year are very well documented.
One is Go Forth, my proudest accomplishment of the year and the more time that passes, the more I realize what an important transformation it captures.
Right now my game is passive, I pull the trigger when necessary, but what happened in Mexico has allowed my aura to attract girls to me and become curious without saying a word. I used this while at Art Basel and you will see just how powerful it is in the story that follows. But seriously…buy the book, support my work, learn from a game fueled adventure and see what is possible.
Another detailed trek took place in Montreal. It was a special trip because for the first time in a while I met a girl who provided a true connection, a memorable experience, and a new sort of growth that can only come through real male/female interaction. Plus, I viewed my camera game as a full time job while up in Montreal and have tons of crazy/funny/sexy pics in that post.
There won’t be many photos in the Art Basel story because my camera got fucked up during an insane night of drunkenness and debauchery…but to tell you the truth…it was worth it.
You can always also help me buy new equipment, get inspired, travel to new lands by donating. Thanks to everyone who has…and you can even get some condoms if you want:) Donate here.
Enough of my self-promotion, its time to get to the good stuff. Without further adieu, I present part 1 of a multi-part retelling of an incredible experience in a unique environment: enjoy.
Part 1: Art, Life, Weirdos
The reasons for my jaunt to Basel this year were pretty innocuous: I had worked my ass off writing Go Forth for four months. It was out, selling well, getting great feedback, and I was looking forward to rewarding myself with a trip funded mostly through book sales.
Pretty fucking cool.
Flights from NYC to Miami are cheap, many of my friends in New York had raved about the madness of Basel, and I found a very cheap Airbnb. It was booked.
I have always dabbled in the visual arts. Painting, photography, drawing, and sculpture are great ways to express your thoughts in different ways.
But I never take them too seriously.
The neighborhood I have been living in for the past 12 years is one of the most well-known centers of art in the world and I can safely say that 99% is utter bullshit.
Art is evidence of the spirit and what most people produce now is bile and vomit from their sick souls. Or, they are just screaming for attention.
To paraphrase one of my old colleagues, who is an brilliant professor of philosophy:
The true artists of the wold are the thinkers, writers, and the doers. Those men are the ones who have the ability to change lives and make you reflect. Has your life ever been changed by a painting? Didn’t think so. Have you ever been influenced by someones writing or example? Thought so…now go out and do Goldmund, know yourself, live the good and the bad, and don’t be afraid to tell us about it.
That motherfucking conversation was a life changer for me years ago and I’ll never forget it.
So needless to say, I didn’t care much about the art portion of Art Basel. I just wanted to experience the madness.
It is well known that many celebrities, rich people and the famous come to Basel to party. Models are everywhere and everyone is looking for an incredible experience.
That’s what I wanted to see, being in the midst of something like that is pure excitement.
And the girls are down for anything.
There wasn’t much of a ‘prep’ for this trip, the date came up, I threw shit in a bag, got a cab to the airport and was ready to make things happen.
There was a freezing, sleety, dirty rain falling on New York that delayed the planes. The airport was swarming with people. Although the eyefucks were coming my way, nervous energy from everyone and way too much movement was hampering my ability to snipe girls in my usual airport way.
I spotted an extremely elegant girl dressed in many different fabrics that were draped all over her body.
She was bitching on the phone when I settled into the seat next to her. It was typical upper class bitching from someone who lived in Manhattans Upper West Side. The dialogue could have came straight from a Woody Allen movie:
Mother, please, I’ll see daddy for Easter, I just can’t deal with that right now…can you please check on Penelope while I’m away? I just don’t trust the dog sitter.
When she hung up, I looked over and said “Do you know much about South Florida?” She said no and we talked about Art Basel. She mentioned that she could tell I was headed there by my style and then we had a fun time picking out the people around who were also going.
- Jet-black, spiky-haired chick with coke eyes
- Suited up nerdy hipster with black rimmed glasses and attaché case
- Chick with a cap on and piercings in her face (oh shit, thats a bartender at one of the places I frequent–go up and say hello)
- Hot blonde with punk rock pants and Dr. Martens
- Guy wearing all black with sleeve tattoos, a beanie and big beard
We played around like this for a while and then she asked what I was going to see. I told her my plan was just to meet new people and ask what was going on.
She then told me that she had a ticket to one of the major dance parties the next night. She showed me the events info on her phone and told me all about it. When I said “I can’t make any concrete plans now, but why don’t you give me your information and we’ll be in touch” her face almost dropped to the floor.
The thing is, I want to travel with absolutely no strings attached, no excuses in my head to not make every night an adventure. No option but to approach strangers, banter until I am accepted and then see what happens. Thats when the craziest, most memorable shit goes down.
Plus, I would much rather bang a local Miami Latina than another artist from New York. The local hometurf flags are a craving that needs to be satiated when I arrive somewhere new.
This girl was probably expecting an eager-beaver ‘yes’ and I gave her an aloof ‘maybe’. And after that she was hooked. She initiated conversation each time and was constantly trying to prove herself to me.
When my section got called to board and I gave her the laser eyes and said ‘nice talking to you, maybe I’ll see you around’ she just about melted.
Later, on the flight, I saw her walking towards the bathroom. When we made eye contact, I gave the cockiest/laser eye/smirk/nod in the world and she tripped over her feet.
When we landed, I hopped in the back seat of the shuttle bus and witnessed a Jewish guy in his 40s spit the worst game I have seen in a long time to an early 20s girl.
All he did was brag about his rich friends who owned property in the Meatpacking district. The girl gave him some grunts but was flipping through Facebook the entire time. He kept going on and on about how he was going to the best parties and she should invite her friends and go. He got dropped off first and when he asked for her number she said “I don’t give out my number” I almost burst out laughing.
We drove off and I said “well that was painful” and the girl, an old German woman, and a young Australian chick all busted up laughing.
We chatted, but I didn’t ask for a number, she was a very typical American girl and I was looking for exotic an flavor. She was vanilla when I was in the mood for jalapeño.
The shuttle dropped me off in a very ghetto neighborhood in the South.
Miami was way bigger than I had expected and when I realized this, I was kicking myself for setting up poor logistics.
The place I was dropped off at looked like it had been bombed, there were thick iron bars over every door and window to keep out the neighbors, and when I knocked on the door a lunatic opened up.
This guy was definitely classified.
His eyes flashed from white to blue, and I thought it was a trick of the light, but I noticed this happen three more times over the next few days. I wonder if he knew that I knew because the look on my face was one of disbelief every time I saw it happen and I couldn’t stop staring right at him.
He was in his 40s, a little Jew-fro sticking out of his head, skin that had been tanned deep from a life in the sun, and his voice sounded like Big-Bird.
“So, what are you doing in Miami?” he squawked.
I told him I was there for the parties and he screeched “Oh, you like to go out at night do you?”
I chuckled and said “something like that”.
I never got the guys name but figured out that he was just staying at the place through airbnb. He and the tenant in the apartment slept on couches in the living room and rented out the two main rooms to travelers.
That meant that each night, when I came back at 5 or 7am, I would open the door and they would be right there on the couches in front of me.
Each time, they said “so, you had a good time, did you, didn’t you, hahaha, you did” I couldn’t help but crack up at them every morning.
They didn’t have extra keys. When I told him I would be out late, he said I could just knock and one of them would let me in.
Fuck, I thought…this means I’m not bringing any girls back here: crazy dudes sleeping all over the place, scary as fuck neighborhood, paper thin walls where sound travelled freely, and the place smelled like piss.
It looked like I would be going back with the girl–I’m good at running starving artist game and girls end up buying me tons of shit and taking me out to eat, so it wouldn’t be hard to explain my situation in a humorous way and get them to take me to theirs.
The main renter came in right as I was leaving and he was just as weird as crazy #1.
These were guys who sat around all day watching old TV shows from the 80s and talking to the screen.
Even when they were alone.
I overheard them, each of them, while sitting on the couch alone, say things at the screen like “Oh yeah, that pizza looks good” and ” Man, those trees have leaves all over them”. And they would laugh so loud that it woke me up a couple of times.
I couldn’t figure out whether to hate them or laugh. In the end I just viewed them with a detached curiosity and complete separation.
It was past midnight when I asked crazy #1 where to get some food and beer. he told me to walk down to the Brickell neighborhood and “just listen for the music”. I hoofed it down there, grabbed some meat and beer from a sandwich shop and walked around.
There is a ton of construction going on in Brickell right now. An unbelievable amount of buildings and bridges are being built, and in a couple of years, Brickell is going to be swarmed.
Underneath some of that construction is a one story building with a fluorescent light, music blasting, and some chill black bouncers. I thought it was a strip club from the looks of it. The chill black bouncers laughed, said “Naw dog, its a bar, now go on in”. So I did.
The place is called Blackbird Ordinary and is fucking fantastic. Dancefloor in the front, DJ booth, huge bars in the front and back, a stage in the backyard, and a giant space outside that allows you to smoke and mingle.
I loved this place so much and 3 out of the 4 nights in Miami (one night I was busy banging) I ended up there.
The Brickell neighborhood is pretty corporate and clean-set, so to have a dirty, sexy, pickup bar like Blackbird makes the place even better.
I got a beer, posted up outside, lit a smoke and looked around. A bouncing Asian chick who was obviously on beans kept looking at me. I walked over and asked if she was from Miami. She said yes and I asked where the parties were.
She told me to check out Wynwood, a neighborhood to the North. She got distracted by her fat friend right after that and bounced away.
I didn’t feel like dealing with a beaned up girl so there was no reengagement.
After looping around Blackbird once, I noticed the potential, but left because on a Wednesday night, the place wasn’t really happening.
I left, jumped in a cab and had him take me to Wynwood–he dropped me off, the place was dead, I looked around, had cops tell me to move along, got in another cab and went back to Blackbird.
After another beer and a chat with a girl who was with her boyfriend, I walked back to my dump, knocked, Crazy #1 opened the door, asked about my night, laughed, and went to sleep.
Part 2 will can be found here: threesome, a fight with animals, imprisonment, and the love of life…
If you want to hear about the true transformation into a player, buy my book: Go Forth, here.
If you want some advice on how to make girls swoon, consider my coaching service here.