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 now in their shelters huddle amid Texas, California, New York, North Carolina. I’d like to huddle there with them for a time (strictly platonically, however). I wish the bleeding rain would stop.

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 that he should provide one (no matter the quality) so that we can at least create something dismal whilst I am in Austin. I want to play music, tone-tone. Can we? You would not believe the amount of paucity inhabits the silent tunnels of the past two years. I need some noise to gear up my pathetic life. Co delas? ¿Que sabes? What do you think?

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-concoted sushi and she seemed to be happy with it as she should have had to been happy considering the occasion. An aside – she has agreed to cut my filthy and wry hair before I leave this rainy yet tepid place.

That brings me to another point.

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? A potion? Yoga?

Mis dias son testarudos.

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 poem provoked that – and a purposefully silly response it was … indeed. If all of the poetry I have written of late was water, almost every camel on God’s Green Earth would dehydrate. That’s a fact.

Na Shledanou.

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 wine and reading the book I have appropriated concerning the history of Pais Vasco. I drained a litre in about 45 minutes and decided that the wooziness I felt chrurning within my tum-tum was indicating that I should cease. So I did. However, the remainder of the day was in shambles on the account of the short boozing session.

My mood picked up a tad whilst preparing lunch – a lively assortment of PIG and RICE coated with a sticky gravy-ish spicy sauce of my own making. Yum. My mood slipped quickly back into despondency, though, especially during the frequent pointless squabbles I had with Jana concerning nothing important at all (my mood contributed). These eventually flung her, as well, into a state of moodiness that I was not able to smash to bits with my hammer of delicacy until almost bedtime. Well, her bedtime. I remained awake reading for a few extra hours, disturbed only by here constant murmur from within her sleep.

This morning, the squabbles resumed. Fantastic. Apparently I look too much like a bum today. Her words.

The week is creeping by, really, mostly because I have only a single EURO in my pocket and most of my time is spent wondering how I shall spend it. No more money is in the sights of my forward looking periscope. C’est la vie. Possibly within two weeks I shall attempt the journey back to Prague hitchiking. I hope I can make it across the border with no problems. We shall see.

Someone sent me an email, so I have decided to begin writing in this damn fool thing again, absurd though it might seem. If anyone is interested, I am in San Sebastiàn, Spain, but not for long. Those damned jaws of chaos keep dragging me from place to place and I am too weary to stop them. Without a single EURO, I will wander the freeways of Europe in hope that I shall eventually arrive again in Prague.

I do not have the strength right now to be caustic.

Just to sleep and sleep until I awaken to a sunrise away from this dreary place.

Damn my luck at only finding the most terribly schizoid of women. Her mood vacillates between totally lovely and completely full of hate. Within the same two hours, we can be walking arm in arm in Munich’s gentle evening breeze and also be in a pernicious debate concerning some failing I had 10 months prior. Her scorn seems endless. When I am not the subject of her pointed ridicule, she does her best to find someone (anyone!) else to beat flat, cut to pieces, and feed triumphantly to wild pigs.

I should not have sacrificed so much.

Now I am frozen here (and subject to her caustic evening onslaught) until I have enough money to move on. Two months? Fuck.