The very instant the plane touched down in Barcelona,

I knew something had changed.

My soul felt lighter, and my feet began to do a little dance

of their own accord to the hypnotic rhythm of the baggage carousel.

The heaviness and tension that lay on me like a stone,

even when floating in the salty-blue buoyancy of the Aegean

dissipated, and a strange bubble in my chest began to ascend

upwards, iridescent and strange.

The difference between here and where I was before is paplable:

The dark pressure and mystery of the Balkans has been exchanged

for an open and frank warmth here in Spain-

In Greece, every face resembled an icon- peering out of varnished

darkness with suspicion. The air a gilded corona around their heads.

The fleshy lushness of Roman Catholicism versus the archaic angles and mysticism

of the Eastern Orthodox- the same old schism presents itself constantly.

Sagrada Familia covered in water-lillies, flying birds, sea turtles, snow.

Dragonflies and bats emerge from the shadowed stone,

snails creep the edges and fish roost in tangled niches..

Tourists mill in tight jeans and faux-hawks, Germans in sandals and socks.

Photographs to follow upon my return- I bought a new camera!

This is the most beautiful and harmonius city I have ever encountered.

Walking down any street here is a revelation, and I have to pick myself

up off the pavement every five minutes after a deep swoon.

It´s dangerous to be this in love with architecture, I tell you.

Black squid ink rice and horchata.

Wide avenues lined with chestnuts and sycamores that spit flecks

of dewy green sap over my shoulders. The smell of sycamore sap

is the smell of home for me. I could live here.

Hello there. I am floating in the middle of the ocean.
No, but really- I am. Trapped inside a giant old Norwegian
beast-tanker called ‘The Perla’ with a lot of boorish,
obstinant, overweight tacky eurotrash tourists.
I feel like I’m in The Shining.
I’m in the Overlook Hotel, except it’s during season
and filled to the gills with horrid guests, who are
all extremely creepy. And kind of mean. With smelly kids.
These people never smile. They’re all on vacation,
seeing incredible things every day- and if you smile
at them, they look somewhat pained- like maybe they just discovered
a rotten piece of carp in the the place where their tongues once were.

I just keep waiting for the lift to explode in a blood-gore tsunami.
And the little twin girls who want me to come play with them
fovever and ever and ever.. Please god, let it be soon.
No, but really- it’s hilarious, and so bizarre that I can’t help
from cackling hysterically at all these big-haired, big-assed
bleached denim, non-ironic mullet wearing grumpy cantankerous people.
If it’s not a Kubrick film over here, it’s a Fellini.
Did I mention the food is hideous?
Honestly, we really are having a lovely time though.
Grampa keeps astounding me with his energy and sanguine attitude-
he is the best travel partner ever.
I’ve made friends with most of the crew now, who are all
amazingly cheerful and Ukrainian or Romanian if not Filipino or Greek.
But they get in trouble for fraternizing too much with guests, so..
Tomorrow we dock in Patmos to see
THE GROTTO OF THE APOCALYPSE
where the book of revelations was written..
Hooray! And then a jaunt to Turkey to go a-bazaaring!
In the Clipper Lounge there’s electronic bouzouki and pictionary.
I don’t think I know what I’m missing.
The carpet in there is stained salmon and teal leopard spots, I do not lie.

Oh, and by the way-
I’ve never seen a more glorious or compelling ocean.
The Aegean is the deepest blue I’ve ever seen..
I floated in it for awhile today, and collected pretty stones
while fish nibbled at my salt-soaked toes.
I’m on a boat in the middle of the sea-
I just keep repeating over and over:
The wine-dark sea.
The wine-dark sea.
The wine-dark sea.

It’s so beautiful I get overtaken by a terrible sense of vertigo
sometimes when I’m standing on deck. I have to grip the railing
so as not to fling myself into it.

Greetings from elsewhere.. I’ve been wanting to write for days and days, but have had no chance. Now I’m in Athens on a dreadfully slow and expensive machine, coming out of a pretty debilitating bout with some kind of nasty bug that has had me violently ill for the last several days.
This is the first time I’ve been out of bed in a while
and so the world is still somewhat overwhelming..

I should be in Delphi today. Dammit.

And how to even begin to relate tales of our travels in Serbia?
I can’t just now-  there is too much, and my head isn’t in one piece yet
My heart is still there
I got sick the night we arrived. Fever turned my dreams into a swarm of drunken wasps-
I woke unsure of where I was, thinking surely I was still in Belgrade.

I’ve seen next to nothing of Greece so far, aside from the view out the hotel window
Tomorrow we board a boat- on to the Aegean islands..
Otherwise, this first week has been incredible- soon I will find a way to tell you more.

Oh, and one more thing…



My friends wrote and are performing this
and are touring around the country this summer..

The Tragical Ballad of Black Bonnet
or
A Kitchen Maid’s Secret
A Puppet Operetta in Three Acts
Based on True Events
Performed by
The Black Forest Fancies
who are: Miss Pandora Gastelum + Miss Nina Nichols

August 4 – Austin, TX – Spiderhouse Cafe – 7pm
August 10 – Seattle, WA – Firebreathing Kangaroo – TBA
August 12 – Portland, OR – The Dunes – 8pm
August 16 – San Francisco, CA – The Hemlock Tavern – TBA
August 18 – Las Vegas, NV – Some street corner – Who knows..?

Go see it- it’s really amazing, and I know this because I’ve
seen it rehearsed on my balcony every afternoon!

So, on Tuesday we leave on our grand journey!
I can’t wait to see my beloved Grandfather-
to see the world and spend time with him..

He’s 91 years old, and the most amazing person I know.

I am looking forward to extracting myself from my ant-trail,
flinging myself farther afield than I have ever been before,
and to learning more about this mad, mad world..
Our first stop is Serbia..


Where I hope to engage upon historical research forays..


As well a fair bit of folk dancing!


And not to mention.. Other cultural activities!

On a more melancholy note, I just discovered that Davor Dujmovic is dead.

Born: 1969, Sarajevo (Yougoslavie)
Died: 3 june 1999, Novo Mesto (Slovenia), suicide

I had no idea. It happened quite a while ago..


Oh Perhan, why?

For P.’s birthday we had a..
DEATHRAWK-ZOMBIE-DANCEFLOOR-FREAKOUT!
This is what it looked like:

T. Little and Pandory


Brother Clit and the birthday girl

And this is what the cake looked like:

Cherry-limeade cake with wee zombies.
It turned your teeth green, and tasted great.

And once upon a time, this is what I used to look like every single day:

HA!


MC Shellshocka can I can smell your spicy brains..
Maybe we didn’t eat enough human flesh because
the next day, it suddenly wasn’t fabulous 1986 anymore
and everyone was all moldy and malevolently hungover.
But it was fun while it lasted, no?

You ate me up, you bear-leader,
And you too, you bootmaker,
Come to me, little maid,
Come to me, you dark little girl.
Never mind that I’ve dark hair,
Or that I’m talented in bed,
One two twelve, let me kiss you on the mouth;
One two twenty-four,
Let me kiss your little waist,
Oh, what a slender little waist.
One two twelve, everyone on his bench,
One two twelve, let me kiss your little waist.
Never mind that I’m beautiful
As a carnation in the garden.
She has a spot on her little breast,
I’d devour her lovely eyes.
You ate me up, you bear-leader,
And you too, you bone-reader,
You ate me up, you bear-leader,
And you too, you bootmaker.

In my dream I fall into this photograph:

I see a white tornado in the distance,
a churning, whirling wraith intent on
savaging the idyllic scene I see before me:
deep slate blue sky and golden fields,
the pristine farmhouse stark and shivering..
I try to warn my companions, who are hazy
and faceless and who don’t seem to be alarmed.
I climb up on the hood of a broken-down car
for a better view, my only thought is that I
must stop this thing- somehow.
I hear a howling behind my left shoulder
and turn to see that another furious funnel
of white wind has begun to form behind me.
Without thinking, I reach into it and
separate it with my hands into two-
as you would a thick fall of hair for plaiting.
I take both cyclones in heavy handfuls
and crack them like bullwhips,
the way you do with rattlesnakes-
grabbing them by the tails,
shattering their spines
and whipping their brains out
of their mouths with a sharp snap.
Having dispersed these minor monsters,
I turn to intercept the juggernaut
rushing my way with the intention
of disposing of it by a similar method.
This may be the most intensely symbolic dream
I’ve ever had- entirely vivid, and visceral in every way.
In other news, I’m having a bit of a crisis of faith today.
No, but really. I think I need to move away.
Oh, but where? Suggestions, please?
The first thing I see today:
A black dog with pollen on its nose.
Then an extremely deformed woman (?)
with sweat beading her gray upper lip
in exceedingly tight pants who wanted
directions to the fancy shoe store.
I was happy to oblige her.
Quote of the day:
“Our target is a jet-black, pickle-shaped
icy dirt ball the size of Washington D.C.”
Eh?

I am fevered and fainéant,
my skin is covered in blue flames.
I walk in between sheets of dark water,
and metallic waves of afternoon heat.
My hands are stained bloody
with beets and curry, black
with walnut ink and gold leaf.
Morning glory tendrils creep and curl
around the balcony where I drink
clémentine soda at mid-day
and peppermint tea at night.


You never see fireflies in the summer anymore..
The night smells dark green and spicy,
the smell of the large dark shapes
moving between the trees..
The night is filled with shadowed faces
blurred and shimmering between the leaves..
In between pools of streetlight there are
dangerous spaces, men with sharp knives
their eyes white and wide.

Oh, and German speakers- achtung, bitte!
Please, a translation that captures
and dual meaning and is grammatically correct for this:
The Ghost Lovers
It’s for a film title.
I forget even why it has to
be in German in the first place now.
But regardless, I entreat you..