Posts

Saturday: Nijmegen is in my book.

And this will be my afternoon completion. Hello Evelien I too can feel you every moment I breath in/out forever I will smile now at what is and what will always be. Too; to all I have known along this  road I am truly not as alone as my solitary travel must suggest. Like tendrils searching a source back to my heart beating please. A kiss a kiss is sustanance in me; as I devour each freely given glee I will not forget anyone of thee. Demanding more of Hemel's finest beer; the leaves have fallen but earth is so alive. Spicy touches linger over a tongue rarely so smiling. Every bit grasps and holds a moments urgent thrust - it must end but that is also a way. Back into the book(The Ginger Man) I leave my stylus next to inkwell never to be a blot.

Saturday: Nijmegen is a clock-time reality.

Antique clock Gillette & Johnston of Croydon turns us to four chimes and I recall that at eight I was meant to wash beyond sink and step up to shower and sing hurrah as my wiener is cleaner than my mother's tongue. Time there is prior to seven to pamper an essence away and scratch the oils to the sewer with hair and suds never redeemed. What bother Mariken is brought to me and Cupid dances for a malty beverage. The vein of my blood flowing into this scroll (app) has me happy to be bold and true and behold behaviour beginning this end; beer preserve us - I am not alone even if this bar suggests a vacant stool (Dan Laythorpe should be here still). Who would condemn me to death if I wasn't this way and shrank off this mortal path smiling at a similitude to corps now renounced along his way. Cheers Dan. And I haven't been to a party in years!

Saturday: Nijmegen Stadsbrouwerij Hemel.

Left after meeting Joep's English mischief and I do play with conker/concur in feeling I know this face from a dream. Black cherries and cream. Some one that would read a short passage and make me smile at her laughing. Joy to make me feel this word game isn't just me me me. Chapter sixteen is lingering long and I thought I knew I would leave Samson accomplishing that section. On the beach of Magnetic Island(QLD) I can remember a Northern Ireland sweetness hidden bare breasted amongst dunes 1999, as I was in the last throws of Once and Future King. Did fondle her as my manhood rose and I knew there was a reason she was at my feet when the books last page was eclipsed by my seed steaming over her white volcanoes. When next I saw her on Bondi Beach I wanted the same again but I felt undone sharing a mixed dorm, when chance could repeat, and quantities of vodka made me vulgar and pressing, desperate, writhing and too hands on in full glare of peers and leering perverts. This girl...

Saturday: Nijmegen and the laughing sock.

Only one sock. Laughing to myself I was hopping mad (silly billy) in Barbarossa Hostel on Antoniusplaats. Markt Stall. Bartering a la L.O.B. two pairs of merino calf length and he gave me another pair even though I did not want or need. Left stall holder ministry of one legged walks - Cleese I became. Love this Nijmegen everyone so happy not overcome. The Staat newest album is I_Con. It is en route to 42. It is Saturday which is a Vinylday I think it is my only link to commerce. And I am in The Klinker (the stones) brew up Groene thee listening to Grimes. Who are this electro pop synth band. Nonja the dog blends with avant-garde screen prints. A collective. Booked for dinner at seven bells. Three courses for six euros. When the world implodes on itself maybe a few cities will linger as the explosion fades into darkness. Another thee then Saint Jacob's Chapel.

Saturday: Nijmegen (slight return)

No you don't need to just pretend for anyone and I know a child is all you're together for: no option but conforming to a church bell; marriage. Two amazing twenty one year olds for whom my flesh was searing. Claudia etc. Samson is a fantasy in Nijmegen I was unprepared for tonight even when Evelien took me there beyond hope. Last night I never managed to source the Hemel but a brew of theirs is propping me up next to these fine breasts upon a sloping stool. The Waal is just over there so its water will clean away every sweat I've kept to myself since Leeds. I came here to finish and to understand it, will I? As I lay warm and cosy in this new clean bed it becomes obvious I now need to look beyond the rigid structures of my ways. We can do anything; I will do anything and give even if/where I don't receive. This time I am on holiday - I think that's the word. Travelling for me seems a form of occupation and isn't a break from the normality. It seems to me th...

Friday: Leaving for Ieper and being thoughtful

There's are so many late arrivals and early departures when backpacking that I should wonder how often relaxation is found or even whether it is sought. Belgian fast food snacks? No more. A stern reminder for the remainder of this exposition. The short term lust is nothing next longer dedication to self preservation. Had a dream of having to awake for work at five forty five even though my contract had ceased. Now as I relieve my self I discover it was some phantom playing hand card tricks within those ebony corridors that are my thoughts. Eblutions and a dry bath now I've hopped over to catch a train to Ieper(Ypres) apparently it is worth seeing. The girl on the counter was large with child yet pale white to be suckled and devoured. European beer rarely gives me headaches with a hangover. 9:31 to Kortkijk blue skies from horizon to horizon. Similar blank faced commuters with iPod, iPad, Metro, Macbook unable to escape to work or college. Four days until the brat was born wh...

Thursday: Bruges is three á trois kerken session.

Vanishing into booze is the only answer. Truly. Tomorrow I seek those graves where men have made red earth since the very earliest head crushing, pole punctuating and head bleeding violent nonsense: how did this? Bruges isn't always but it is mostly. Fickle me with bust nor quim left to feister release before a cold cold front touches those regions as yet free of wool. In the Monks Arse I finally resolve a local to provide me Pannepot. Bliss but it took me all night to find this malt sock. Three black stairs undid me and I tripped like a triple bastard fool into a urinal waiting for the laughter and the abuse but this was imagined in the fall. I was brought up to think all fast food was always the same (pasty or sausage roll, fish or chips) but I am sure Belgium did early as theirs is soberly esteemed. Tried a local taste and can't understand the speed with which they seek to deliver frozen chips! Gentle-creatures on a bike so you must dodge them like straight rain drops....