Montpellier Pt.3.

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Montpellier Pt.3.

Trust is a funny thing. I came to this city not for me, for Glenn, but also because I felt lonely and needed a good Yorkshire voice to help me on my Way. Nothing real came of Montpellier so I am quite smashed and wondering how I was brought here without self control. Some dangle of a nice rope played tricks around my face bringing me south east and never south west of France after Cahors.

No matter. Wednesday I will head west away with the sunrise. Some options are Perpignan, Toulouse or Barcelona. Or further west Bayonne or Biarritz. I'm beginning to feel Perpignan as I really don't want to be in Barcelona or Toulouse, but it is a reasonable distance towards Pamplona.

The old me maybe would let the negativity of yesterday play tricks with me today. But something great comes of flipping with the ready formed road west. Wow Glenn u needed to have a break for yourself? Instead you have a nightmare during the day.

Wow another guy who I see as a mistake of behaviour: Matthew arrived in Hotel Majestic with a chaotic woman from Austria. I am glad the rooms are individual and not communal. I told him I was on a pilgrimage and he said 'are you religious' because this must be the only reason you would walk this way?

The Russian honeys are leaving for Nîmes Nice or nowhere. With weak hand shake they depart. I'm hung over and want to grunt. Good morning Non-Pellier; looks like I'm being broadcast for a TV show. I do choose them. M6 Capital. Coffee and a sarnie.

Perpignan it is then. Sounds like a romantic city. A girl is travelling from Grenoble to Perpignan. If that fails then internal local regional train. No more expensive TGV.

Last night's failures have inspired me not to dwell and saved me money as I had expected to be here until the 17th. Glenn's girlfriend's family saved my sorry ass from rectitude and more commercial solitude. I'll pack and eat at the Duck place In Duck We Trust. I'll take the wine and spread the love I have for Cahors in snarlingly crap Non-Pellier.

No thoughts are neutral. My happiness is still a bad thing. All thoughts are damaging. There should be an absence of thoughts when I hear them arising in my mind.

Home Coffee is a snippet of American commercislism plying it's trade inside another vulgar monster. I've just moved from the TV camera. Another thing that is also meaningless. What does all this rotten interviewing say of the limited viewer and realm of fiction bouncing around a cathode ray tube or lcd display. Fire off. Clap your clapper in your noses. Oh it will increase the limited visage of your face.

Location: Centre Historique, Montpellier

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