sunlight

jøde and reading lamp

Today I went back to the café where I made my one Danish friend the last time I was here, an old hippie who called me out right away as jøde because he himself is, too, and there he was, waiting to hug me good and tell me to come back on Friday, by which time he’ll be through with the ministry of food health or whatever they call it here and ready to ping-pong — his verb—with me about what I might do from now onward. The Danish aren’t particularly open-minded to what is known as networking, he says, for they miss the point that to let someone new into a circle is to one’s own benefit, too. The Germans, he says, will be different.

Now it is six minutes ’til ten at night and I am only just beginning to need a reading lamp to write by, which really could be called a writing lamp if not for the crushing creative imperative. 

Northern Europe in May, as advertised.

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shades at nine

Now I have put on my shades, which will allow me to stare more at anyone or anything or nothing and attract less attention for it and also be less vulnerable to engagement with other humans, which I am mostly not ready for, than I might be without them. Bless this endless daylight that lets shades close to nine, post-meridiem, remain a reasonable proposition.

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why shouldn’t I sleep until noon

Northern Europe in May induces a certain extravagance, a profligacy with the day.

Why shouldn’t I sleep until noon?

The only reason to get up is to not waste the daylight, and what will I do with seventeen hours of it?

Et cetera.

I’m looking forward to moving toward the equator, to somewhere more reasonable about such things.

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I am on a nude beach up the coast

I said,

I am at a nude beach up the coast from Barcelona

Crying naked among strangers is…weird

But good

Two separate and very sweet young men have come up to help me with the sunscreen on my back

No lechery at all

Their penises dangling unobtrusively around my ear or so

Then gone back to their girlfriends on their beach blankets

It was so lovely, the neighborliness

Also being touched

Here is my tushie

[I sent her a picture]

— I think — the sun is fucking up my photographic discernment

So it could be someone else’s tushie

But I’m pretty sure it’s mine.

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