Birds, hungarian birds belting out folks songs, birds fucking flitting in my mind, a sappy soundtrack as the credits of my final dream roll out my head. Birds. In two weeks I will buy a shotgun and kill them all, (especially the ones twiddling in my head) but for now its beautiful, a sudden virilty fills me. I can do anything for the next second.
Last night I finally bitchslapped my insomnia, and I actually slept for the first time in three days. This week my classes have been terrible. I assigned busy work as my bloated brain wobbled back and forth between conciousness and some terrible gooey feeling. I met a very clever hungarian girl for coffee, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn.t keep up with her jokes, which were mostly puns and ironic suckerpunches, you know my favorite type of humor. During my private lessons, we watched movies. Hopefully next week with my mind and body recharrged I can make up for my ineptitude. By the way, insomnia in Hungary is fucked because church bells bang all night long, and I am not sure if I am dreaming the landscape. I still wonder if I'm even here. Am I still in Portland walking hungover down Hawthorne, trying to find a way to slay the grabby goblin in my brain?