Berlin Es Stink

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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism

Yes, I'm in Praha and still writing about Berlin. Does that say anything to you?

I forgot to write about the Tajikistan tea house where I had canadian tea with whisky and maple syrup. It was on the first floor of a palace

I forgot to write about the vagabond german artisans we met who have to live off thier skills for at least 3 years and one day before returning home.

I forgot to write about wandering the streets with a bottle of cheap champange making jokes about raping in alleys.

But I've moved on, maybe

In the train yesterday I thought the sun was melting- dribbling yelow all over the fields. I listened to sufjan and got teary.

[ i fell in love again. all things go. all things go.]

I've been writing down ideas for projects, drinking tequila sunrises, and failing at writing a goddamn word.

Here is the heart of it: all of europe is praying in front of the world cup, while I am throwing hail mary's at the cracked sidewalks searching desperately for conversational salvation.

I leave you with this quote, from the map of prague I have:

"You must not mind that the poet is a drunk, just that every drunk is not a poet."

Oscar Wilde