Tomorrow I go to fabulous Fort Worth to visit my family. Moje rodina. It has been a long time. I wonder how much more alienated I shall feel during and afterwards. After the discussion with Chris today about his hopelessness, the whole idea of staying here for a lengthy time frightens me exceedingly. Everything here irritates me. Even the voices. That accent! Eructing words into ill-built phrases. Je odporny.

I have forgotten how absurd the culture of commercialism (the one that Michael found so unique and fascinating) is.

After not using the Dvorak keyboard (not out of choice, but out of necessity) for some time, I am entering these very enticing words by the means of the once abandoned keyboard layout. I am rather slow and clunky at it. I have lost my touch.

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 Alpine highway and passers-by gave glanced at me oddly as if I had been naked without the ugly bulk of automobile clothing hanging about me. Entering the ‘Alamo Grocery’ where a piece of gum used to cost one cent and four years prior, my handsome friend, Chris Bender, bought at least six lottery tickets, I thought momentarily of purchasing a Root Beer but then decided with a stupid simper on my face to get a Snapple instead.

Fucking America again.

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.