Clogged sinus. Sound-proof hotel room. Super-late for bed. Tired. But I revel in this silence. Room reeks of fornication and guilt. White remnants on top of the coffee table. Half a baguette, Dalmatia fig spread, Burrata, a plastic knife, loosely rolled twenty dollar bill and a credit card. Art is how things occupy space. Gravity is a dent in space-time.
38 year old body makes a dent in the bed. The heel of a stiletto is fully inside her. She is fine…art. Married but not to me. So her guilt must be heavier than mine. Her lousy head game must only add to it. I, on the other hand, give extraordinary fellatios; had her squirming, moaning and eventually imploring me to fuck her. But I am a simple man. I do what I want to, when I want to.
Saw a girl at the elevator on my way back from the vending machine. She was accompanied by a Great Dane. One can train a dog, but dignity can’t be taught. Her’s was a dignified dog. I pictured myself fucking her brains out while laying her on top of the Great Dane. I am not dignified. I get off on stealing from and betraying the love of my friends and family. It will never catch up to me. I am a tactful and well-adjusted person.
This city is like its inhabitants: panache but no substance. She knows my name but not my game. So it will be easy to leave.
Leaving later today. Heading south.
4th Jun. 2012 (Day after Radiohead concert; Caribou opened)