Mars 2014, Milan

Inspiration struck me like the pigeon strikes the bread crust. After years of my head being silent, or perhaps too loud, I couldn't afford to ignore it. So I sat on an old stone bench under a tree, between a castle and a fountain. In Milan. I guess I needed something painfully obvious and cliché to get myself back on track. Or just on track. So there I was, trying to figure out what would be less tiring; going back to the hostel and wait there or wait here then go back to the hostel? But I didn't want to do anything that involved waiting any more. I wanted to run around and jump with excitement and wonder. I wanted to not feel sore everywhere, to not feel burning in my shoulders, and more than anything, to not feel the tired boredom in my mind. Do you know how exhausting it is to be bored of everything? To always be waiting for the next best thing, to keep wandering around and never find a landing point? I couldn't find a seating position that didn't hurt my hip on the bench, so I moved to the nearest best looking tree and fell down on the ground, my back hugging the tree's body. For a moment I felt so well I thought I could fall asleep there, but I knew I'd want to move again soon. Nothing ever feels right. I wondered what could make a bench feel okay, a house feel like home. What could make anything feel right, or at least enough. A friend? A lover? A child? Inner peace? The only thing that felt believable at this moment was to break my legs. Then again, I'd probably murder my arms rolling the chair around. Now why am I writing all this in past tense? Do I believe in a future when all this will stop being true? I don't believe in much. I believe things have a way of working themselves out.

Je ne veux pas rentrer à l'auberge de jeunesse. Trop de gens, trop sale, trop imprévisible. Je veux rester ici, assise sur de la terre qui eut été à une époque de la pelouse, à écouter la fontaine, à regarder les pigeons, à écrire.

I feel the inspiration, and most importantly, the motivation, to do anything, fade already. Like everything good, all I can think of is when it's going to stop. Maybe I should buy another vegan ice cream. It made me happy. I thought I would have one tomorrow, because I don't like sweet things enough to have two in one day. But it would make me happy, I think, not as happy as if they had a vanilla flavor, but happy nonetheless. Maybe I'll try pistachio and chocolate, I'm not sure I'll like it. No. I want pizza. Marinara pizza. I'll eat some now. Who cares what I do next? Maybe I'll walk to the park, maybe I'll go to the hostel and try to sleep, maybe I'll kill myself, maybe I'll get lost, maybe I'll move to Hollywood. Whatever. The only two, no, three things I know for sure at this moment are:

- I want pizza

- I need to pee

- I miss and love my cat.

That's it. Thank you for listening.