I'm drinking Le Chouffe at a bar. Bowie is playing. It's getting close to midnight and my flight doesn't leave until tomorrow morning at 1030. Trains back to the airport don't start until 430. I have some time to kill and then some. Good town. I just spent the last hour walking and walking, looking for something to eat before I stopped at a Mexican joint called Caramba. And by Mexican joint, I mean some wildly talented and successful chef crashed town and decided to open up this stomp in the middle of one of the most quaint and affluent streets of town. Incredible. I told my waiter to tell the chef his food changed my life. He came out and we had a beer and talked briefly and struggled through barriers of understanding, but seriously memorable.
It's almost midnight. I have five hours to kill. At least. At least. Smoking doesn't work on me - even in Amsterdam. I'm not going to buy mushrooms and get on a 14 hour plane ride - probably wouldn't do it anyway. I'm not going to pick up some girl so I can share her bed for a few hours - it's not really my style. Sex echoes too much in me. There are candles in front of me - candles everywhere in this part of the world. I'm still trying to reel in everything that has happened over the last few days, can't believe it's a Sunday and I'm sitting with 3 drunks in a bar in Amsterdam, on my computer, about to be told to move along.
I woke up this morning and was riding around town and I couldn't help but think that if we're open to it, absolutely open to it, the world gives us exactly what we need, not always what we want but what we need. I was thinking that a lot today - the girls, the nights, Durban. He's gone and I'll see him again soon. Soon. Right now, I'm trying to come down, trying to wrap myself around the events that occur in my world...how I brought them upon myself, how I will continue to bring them upon myself. I'm just drifting now. Just drifting. It's Sunday and I don't know anything else but that this is my life and I will continue to make it.
