Creatively speaking, I'm lost.

Physically speaking, I'm in Perth.

Musically speaking, I'm in limbo.

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There's a new tab on my to-do list entitled, "people are important," as if it's a recent revelation.

Maybe it was?

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We haven't shared for a long time.

It wasn't you. It was me.

But, I can change.

Only now do I appreciate how hard it is to stay balanced.

We can make this work.

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Sweden publishing a Red Notice is unusual. But, not particularly so wrt. sex offenses.

Here are the organizations responsible for all of the Red Notices from Sweden:

The International Public Prosecution Office in Gothenburg stands out. It's not a court. It's not a city nor region. What is it?

It weird. You'd think the courts would handle their own paperwork. Even the Prosecution Office has a dedicated notice for English visitors trumpeting their involvement thusfar.

I'll have to ask a Swedish friend to understand more.

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She unboxed and booted it up while, beside her, I napped in bed. After five minutes of clicking sounds, she asks, "how do I change the wallpaper in Windows 7?"

I rarely have that sinking feeling. But, it followed a vague memory and preceded a web search turning up a blog post from the Windows Team engaging in damage control:

I've suspected she reads faster than me. This time, even though I already knew what was written, I had barely started on the list before she leaped to her feet and shouted angrily while pointing at the brand new netbook now in my hands, "I can't fucking believe that! I am so fucking mad! How can they do that?!"

I shrugged, and said, "monopoly."

Link 6 polkaed the salsa | flamenco lambada

My wristwatch has laid on my nightstand for week. On Saturday, my bag was a missing element of an evening out. I own more than one collared shirt. My pair of Hush Puppies are casual.

The flat is one of ThoughtWorks’ service apartments. It’s mine for a month, or until I move, whichever comes first. Newtown, Paddington, Surrey Hills and Redfern all sound nice.

The job? Obviously, I got it, as they’re putting me up. It’s all I hoped. I want to be all they hoped.

Sydney is new. It’s exciting, of course; but, everything is new. Thursday night held my first bout of loneliness. It passed on the ferry to Manly. Pacing through the full passenger deck, from fore to aft and back again, watching the receding lights of my new city filled with exactly what I think I want: no one I know. My heartbeat accelerated, fueled by all the doubts I left behind in Los Angeles.

I tried to displace them with a narrative of the ferry capsizing. Climbing a lighthouse, an exhausted body found on the rails underneath the lamp. I eavesdropped on a couple of bike couriers sitting on a deck below. I didn’t intrude, avoiding those familiar terms. Instead I resolved to, by the end of the evening, have weekend commitments.

Goals and plans allay me.

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... del ratón borracho

Un ratón cae un día en una cuba llena de vino. En aquel momento un gato pasa por allí cerca. El gato oye el ruido que el ratón está haciendo al no poder salir de la cuba.

“¿Por qué gritas tanto?†pregunta el gato.
“Porque no puedo salir,†contesta el ratón.
“¿Qué me das si te saco?†pregunta el gato.
“Te doy todo. ¿Qué quieres?†contesta el ratón.

“Esto es lo que quiero,†dice el gato, “venir a mi cuando te llamo, venir en seguida.â€
“Sí, lo prometo,†contesta el ratón.
“¡Tienes que jurarlo!†insiste el gato.
“¡Lo juro!†exclama el ratón.
El gato saca al ratón del vino y lo deja marcharse a su agujero.

Llega el día en que el gato tiene mucha hambre y piensa en su ratón. Va al agujero y lo llama.
El ratón dice: “¡No!â€
El gato le grita: “¡Esa es tu promesa!â€
El ratón se sonríe: “Sí, pero hoy no estoy borracho.â€

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My little sisters’ in Guatemala loved this song. I would sing it for them while playing my guitar, or put it on my laptop and we’d dance for what felt like hours.

It was only weeks later, watching HTV, that I realized they weren’t crazy about the Daniela Romo version but instead the much more recent Fanny Lú cover.

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E      B                       C#m            A          
Solo una muchacha de pueblito, vivendo en un mundo solitario 
E       B                     G#m               A
Tomó el tren de la medianoche yendo a cualquier lugar

E       B                   C#m               A
Solo un muchacho de ciudad, nació y creció en Sud-Detriot
E       B                     G#m               A
Tomó el tren de la medianoche yendo a cualquier lugar

E              B                 C#m              A
Un cantante en un sala con humo, oliendo a vino y perfume barato
E                      B                   G#m           A
Por una sonrisa pueden compartir la noche, sigue y sigue y sigue y sigue


A                  E
Extraños esperando arriba y abajo del bulevar
A                          E
Sus sombras estan buscando en la noche
A                     E
Gente abajo alumbrado viviendo solo para encontrar emoción
A                           E
Escondiendo, en algún lugar de la noche


E                    B                       C#m           A
Trabajando duro para conseguir mi proposito, todo el mundo quiere una emoción
E       B                                    G#m      A
Pagando cualquier cosa para tirar los dados, solo una vez  más

E                B                 C#m                   A         
Algunos ganarán, algunos perderán, algunos nacieron para cantar el blues
E              B              G#m           A
Oh la película nunca termina; sigue y sigue y sigue y sigue


A                  E
Extraños esperando arriba y abajo del bulevar
A                          E
Sus sombras estan buscando en la noche
A                     E
Gente abajo alumbrado viviendo solo para encontrar emoción
A                           E
Escondiendo, en algún lugar de la noche


E        B         C#m            A
No dejes de creer, aférrate a ese sentimiento
E           B         G#m
Gente abajo alumbrado

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I hadn’t seen her nor had she even entered my mind for over half a year. “Ambivalent†sums up how my emotions to her were and still are. But my lips were tasting her neck; her legs wrapped my hips from my lap; both our hands were sliding across the other’s body and pushing our shirts upward to that inevitable conflict of who would be without first.

It couldn’t be real. So, I woke up and opened my eyes to see the beginnings of dawn through my curtains. The lemon tree in the garden silhouetted by the slowly brightening blue sky behind it. After almost two months of preparing for morning classes, I didn’t need a watch to know it was slightly after 6am. What a stupid and responsible time to rouse for my last day in San Pedro.

Trying to carry on dreaming wasn’t working out. The next starred no one but the city of New York and my feelings of loneliness while eternally walking through crowded Manhattan streets. So, I woke up again and instead wrote some e-mails. Writing is always arduous and I’ve got this notion my coterie is also tiring but from my inconsistency.

Nothing to be done but resume skimming whatever I fell asleep to evening before. Really? Simultaneously re-reading Carlyle and commencing on Froude? Fucking UR.

Then the earth began to tremor, harder than I had ever felt, here nestled between dozens of active volcanoes. Minutes passed, and I enjoyed the vibration upon my side through the pliant mattress. “The Earth will swallow us up.â€

My language centre is scrambled, tired, and lazy. My American-English struggles against the baroque character of Latin cognates.

Vanessa rapped on my window. Her preparatory sounds had mingled with bird song and tuk-tuk motors for the last half-hour. “Scott?†I put on my blanket, out of decency, before stepping outside to say goodbye. “Keep in touch with us?†“Of course. Have fun at Chichi.†The French guy was waiting at the gate to our garden and home. I waved to them both before turning and returning to my room and bed.

To his groggy disbelief, I rang Sam a few minutes after eight for The Plan. It’s still on. We leave, this morning, for the city.

If I’m going to ride my motorcycle on the dirty Central-American Highway, then I want to be clean again. A few minutes into my shower, I heard Sam talking with one of the kids in my house. I finish bathing and we finished packing.

A guitar, two hammocks, and a sleeping bag were left behind. My compatriot awkwardly humming Eye of the Tiger. Parting hugs and a parting gift. Expressions of fond sentiment and wishes of luck.

Goodbye family Gonzales, and goodbye San Pedro.

We rode off into the mountains.

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