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...
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 sunris...
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 no...
Samba sucks. Sometimes my left collarbone needs a good greasing. I keep thinking about the toothless fish which swims in my dreams. Obviously I have nothing to say today. Okay. ...
After sitting in front of a terminal for most of the day, my brain is in a deflated state. Difficulty concentrating. Plague. Coffee or cigarettes may be the solution. Last night, I created a spectacular pureed vegetable soup (potatoes, parsnips, carrots, leek, etc) which still awaits me this evening. Well, if the woman has not consumed it all. The night before was Panang Curry with eggplant, red bell pepper and carrots over rice. Also damn tasty. If tonight the soup is not enough, I shall whip up some gn...
yeah, this is more fun than working. * If there are 3 wells (love, beauty, and creativity) and you can drink from one of them, which would you choose? that's like asking whether you'd drink coffee, vodka or water if you were dehydrated. * Do you wish on stars? no. * Would you kill someone? yes. * Who are you jealous of? no one. * Who would you marry? no one. * Do you think that the people on the gap commercials are cool? i have never seen a gap commercial. * If you were another person, would...
If I ever complete any novel-length piece of work, I am going to either title it 'The Ballad of an American Dreamer' (yeah, stolen, but I doubt the originator of the title will care) or 'Shithouse Literature'. I am thankfully alone in the office at the moment. Approximately 30 more minutes of non-itchy bliss. I hate that itchy kind of bliss. It never fails to irritate. Then there is the Christie kind of Bliss, but I think she is in Illinois. The Czech d00d working here poked his head in and rattled off a ...
Two nights ago, we attended an 'avante-garde' ballet. I was, frankly, impressed. The music during the first set was fully percussive and incorporated quite nice timbral textures locked in polyrhythmic grooves. Too bad I did not catch the composer's name. Bastard me. The second was a revelling rolick of semi-dark, upbeat symphonic stuff with hoards of balleters scrambling in a frenzy around the stage while a single, white-clad one practised stretches, oblivious, behind the bars of a cage. Near the end, the m...
