The following photo should land Christián in prison for several lifetimes. I mean, really, what right does he have to sniff so casually a jar full of richly flavoured marijuana? What's worse is that he did it in a good friend's kitchen! He didn't even volunteer to bake the stuff into tasty pastries that would leave us lying around for most of the day pining for our future years that will see us sitting at a battered folding table in the sixth level of hades playing either *Hearts*, *Spades*, *Rummy*, *Poker...
It's Christmas once again and I'd like to wish all of my dear readers dreams crushed in the wake of the bulk of progress, ever moving and obliterating every good thing in its path. Yes! **Death!** Families gather under the spotlight of commercialism and stragglers like myself are at times let into their midst. The grip of this season is unmistakable. It is icy in the north and it is sweltering in the south. It is precisely *-3C* where I am, actually. The bed is cozy, however lonely. The room is stark excep...
I'd actually rather not talk about continuations and I ask kindly for you to never mention them again in my presence. If you comply with this request, I'll be delighted and send you a photograph of my friend [Christián](http://christianmnewman.com/blog/) being asphyxiated by a wildebeest.. So let's jump right in. As I was writing on [1 December](http://blog.thinklikeamink.org/#/entry/324), the attractive young woman at *Plus Ultra* gave me two phone numbers upon my arrival in Logroňo. I contacted *Marisa*...
During other restless night, punctuated with sleep but mostly filled with half-awake blear, I had a dream about *María*. For the curious ones, she is Marisa's daughter. For the even curiouser ones, Marisa is the woman I am spending most of my evenings with. Back to the point: I had a dream about *María*. María has a *pájaro*, a parakeet to be exact. This bird is restless to say the least. In my opinion, it is terrified of her and of her mother. My further opinion is this observation results from them not b...
I'll go ahead and call this a *random access* entry. My procrastination over the last nine (or more) months has prevented me to gathering all of the thoughts that I shall present here into discrete entries. That, and I'm having a glass of *sidra* with my *tortilla*. See, that's how we do things in Logroňo. Or, rather, that is the way **I** do things in Logroňo. I drink, eat, and blather. I used to do more of this sort of thing, yes, but much of that was actually not in Logroňo and I wasn't drinking *sidra* ...
Whilst peparing and during *lunch* today, the television was on in the kitchen / dining area. One can imagine that I was not in my own household, not owning a television. The news was blathering away at a tolerable volume. The story was of **death**. Apparently, during a *futbol* match in Madrid, fans of the two competing teams formed teams of their own and proceeded to beat each other senseless. The results were many injuries and one **death**. #### Death? Why??? Mind you, this is over a *futbol* match. ...
I feel that the last months I have been slumbering. Only my dreams have kept me from falling into true nightmarish idleness. The shot of adrenalin came when I realised I must desperately leave the dreaded flat that weighed on me with its dimness. Yes, I am blaming it on the flat. **Deal with it!** Many annoyances accompanied that place of residence. It lie in the middle of Logroňo's *party centre* where borrachos and kurvy alike swirled like cyclones fueled by the need to exert their miniscule force upon e...
Un invierno hace muchos aňos, hice un viaje el día de nochevieja, a las montaňas de la zona oeste de Republica Checa. La zona se llamaba Jeseníky. Este cuento no ex exactamente sobre mí, es sobre mi compaňero de viaje. Ěl se llamaba Christopher. Hicimos el viaje por una de mis amigas checas. Ella tenía una cabaňa en los montaňas y me invitó allí. Me dijo que mi amigo podía venir conmigo, ya que me estaba visitando. Fuimos en tren desde Praga al pueblo cerca de la cabaňa. Tuvimos que esperar dos horas en un...
Ok, I am wating for this woman who seemes to care for me. I don't know what to do but write, a bit. I'd like to listen to music right now. She doesn't at all. She called. She was missed. Of course, that is a lie, but I'll remember it. I'm listenening to "Time" right now... As I tread the halls of sanity. Fuck! I am with Teresa again. Stupid girl. She should have been with me. I think she was driving. We listened to this song. Fucking Fort Stockton. She was a good girl, though possibly possessed with an a...
The final dream I had this morning after a moderately restless night was about my parents. They stood in front of me, side by side. I was the one that did most of the talking / shouting. I've had similar dreams in the past and they are never pleasant. I usually wake up feeling very disturbed. The sensation takes a few minutes to fade. The story is usually similar. I am ranting at them about my psychological state and how it was spawned wholly from my upbringing. Oh, and from the pit of dispair called *For...
As I have stated numerous times in my handwritten journals, and under these same circumstances, I have certainly neglected this poor journal. I'd say that it won't happen again, but that would be a blatant blight against future reality. Of course it will happen again. I am negligent. I lapse. I am just a small, cute pine marten, so what in the name of the deity mustelid's holy tracks along the bank of the Ebro do you expect? I begin this entry whilst waiting for 17.00 to roll around - for siesta to end o...
