Does the bud or even the stalk of the plant still love its roots? I despise what gave birth to me. Botanical schizophrenia. My eyes still bleed those olden red notions, but the ink they become fades much too quickly. ...
The firm, barred back of this ancient, wooden chair bites into my back and I flash back to the dim yet burning sensations of my youth. I took a stroll today. Through the park in which the red, ufo of a carosel stood immobile in the dry, bitter wind. Where the chains of the swings jingled greetings to their old solitary friend as I passed. I circumnavigated the pit of a swimming pool, protected from molestation by ragged and crumbling chain-link fences. My feet kicked up dust along the shoulders of the old A...
In two days, i depart. Night train to Madrid. Flight to NYC. Then to Dallas, then Midland. It will be odd to be in the desert again. Speaking of deserts, this last weekend, i bussed to Barcelona. Wonderful El Paso-like landscapes on the way (in specific, through Aragón). Maybe I shall enjoy being in the desert again. I do not like Heineken at all. ...
Rain. No sign of its end. My Jesus on Mount Urgull is bleeding but the outcroppings have stolen the red of his blood. Now only salty rain. I am freezing in this cafe. Not another soul in sight. I could walk out without paying. Maybe I shall. Or maybe I will remain here until Sweet Entropy comes again to claim me. Four months without her is a long stretch. Has it been four months? Yes. Nearly five. In one week and two days, my current Spain adventure shall cease to be. I wonder what all my friends are doing...
After talking to my parents on Saturday night, I have decided, because of, for the most part (not withstanding my horrific guilt concerning the fact that i have not seen them in three years), my complete lack of funds at present, that I shall go to visit my parents for Xmas. Hopefully, I shall have the time and funds to see my wonderful friends who live within the same state (that means you, Tony). Speaking, parenthetically, of Tony, I hope that he reads this and realises that I have no guitar with me and t...
Listening to King Crimson... their new stuff. Mp3. Great. I suppose I love it. I should be happy with it, as it says. But I suppose I should speak about my weekend, which was as unfortunately placid as I might have predicted had I been utterly drunk during the whole of it. The highlight was Saturday night when we had demasiado comida at Eli's place. She fed us as if we were pigs reined for years in a slop house which enforced fasting. Tortilla con patatas y salad con granada. Also, we brought some self-conc...
Today is Friday. I have nothing to say. Well, I have the inclination to fill this white square with pointless blather, but I will resist. Something more important may occur later. Oh, one bit of news: I have not begun hitchiking to Prague yet. Jéééééé! ...
Off into another sunny day in Donostia, Pais Vasco, España. An optimistic sweetness sickens my departure from this place. The bright, orthogonality of the room suddenly becomes dim and sulking, leaning on me as if to crush and digest. I must explore the remaining green areas of the city before my departure and photograph them since my memories shall surely wane. Half of me is a corpse and the other half wants to keep dragging the whole forward until some cure for partial ressurection is discovered. A pill...
Anoche era atroz. Cuando mañana o esta noche esté lo mismo, voy a estallar. Tuve que utilizar casi toda de mi paciencia para quedarme razonable. Si otra vez ocurriera, se mataría. Somehow, it is much more satisfying to be bitter in other languages other than English. ...
Spanish pop music drools from the speakers overhead as I wait to leave this place, to leave and hobble on feet which feel like pegs towards home. Once I arrive, I plan to create, in a pan of popping oil, palacinky. Palacinky are very tasty, especially when prepared with the diligence of a true Eastern European cook such as myself. That is about enough on that topic. Someone told me today that it will take some time before I get up to speed on understanding that poetry-stuff. I suppose my response to his po...
**Monday** I discovered a bank of computers providing internet access for absolutely free in the Egia Cultural Centre very near to my flat here in San Sebastián. So this morning, for the second in a row, here I sit. I will begin with a few pessimistic thoughts about drinking a litre of wine before noon. **Yesterday**, after returning from this immaculately clean establishment to my immensely sordid room in my exceedingly annoying flat (because of its numerous vociferous occupants), I began sipping a jug of...
