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Monday, July 13, 2009

shedding poundage - dispatch 8 - 7.12.09

I have been dropping my belongings like flies, all over Europe. I sold my small skateboard to a small man in London, I lent books to people in France and Spain, and I gave t-shirts to people in five countries. I had to make room.

Nothing is real anymore. My body is one big tingle, and the world is an echo chamber.
Everyone is speaking German in England right now, then Swedish, only then I realize it's English put through the cheese grater of my sleep deprived brain. Only if they are sitting directly next to me can I understand.
I am in a fist fight with my face because it says, by law, now my eyes get a siesta, and I say fuck that Im a capitalist, keep those shutters open baby.

I took a two hour, middle of the night nap in one country last night, and had coffee in another this morning. It hurts the body now.

I have been having delirious dreams about you and *Ina. She becomes this all powerful being of love, that loved you, but you won't let her go because you need her love more than anything, to breathe, to not wear a crease in your brow all the time. Whenever she would stand her ground you would pull her to you.
Everyone on this train is a strange, diluted version of you and her and me yesterday - as though somebody threw the three of us in a cocktail shaker with a whole ton of alcohol, and some indigenous Swedish fruits.

When we're in the subway tunnel it's fine, but then we start rolling into the sun. And I realize it's day time. And I have to go meet a girl's parents. Jesus. I look like death climbed in my back window and squatted my eyeballs. I wouldnt want me hanging around with my daughter. A loaf of bread could play hide and seek in my hairdo right now.

"I'm sorry, what's that? Joanna, I didn't know your parents spoke Norwegian. Whats that she said? Is the salad swearing at me??"

No worries, I'll sedate myself. I should have bought some sunglasses to hide behind. Rough.

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