As Christián once again attends to his seven to eleven times daily fecal ritual, I begin my first entry whilst in the magnificent city of Praha. I am at U Zavěšenýho Kafe.
As Christián returns from one of his seven to eleven times daily fecal ritual, I continue my first entry whilst in the magnificent city of Praha. I’ve been here before - in this café, that is. However, it was very long ago and I do not recall the details or even with whom I was. I suspect that it was Renata. It may also have been Hela, but I doubt it. We’ll go with Renata, since she lived near Hradčanská and insisted on always hanging out in her own barrio.
Had I convinced the very lazy and recently gluteally violated Christián to ascend further onto Uvoz and then to Pohořelec, I would have encountered many more half-nostalgic cafés attended by Renata and myself in the distant past. I could even find the one where she berated me for drinking too much. I’d like that. I miss that woman.
It is very possible that we shall still ascend after our time at this mysterious but familiar café.
Soon, however, I will be forced to take the teaspoon on the silver platter pictured beside my svařeně vino and pry one of the eyeballs from Christián’s eyesocket. The reason for this is that he keeps talking about grids. When I was a child, I was forced to live in a grid with other children, and therefore to interact with them relentlessly. Obviously, this alarmed and angered my profound sense of introversion and sociopathy. The grid made these fundamental parts of my personality swell and consume most every other facet of the entity that was I. The swelling, much like a cyst on the scrotum of an infant, has never ceased, even to this day. I reach for the teaspoon.
