running september.

the month started with a middle-age revival party. the only thing I can remember is the living animals hanging around me with some kind of bells while I was drinking whichever bottle I could grab in the midst of dust, food and recorded speeches.

then came the week. jammed nose, sore throat, coughing my lungs out, managed to survive running around until people started to visit me in a hurry. the mornings turned into hangovers, the afternoons grew to trying-to-fool-the-boss-I'm-awake periods, the evenings to same-old-stuff alcohol tasting sessions and the nights to anything I can remember. some trains departed, planes took off, kissing, hugging, missing, calling, coffee, coffee, coffee.

didn't feel like a month, really, more like a fantasy, felt like a tourist browsing the streets thinking in english, working like a dog from nine to midnight and still being able to find the energy to run around and the guts to write based on the usual drink+cigarretes remedy.

hope this one goes better.