Denmark

undskyld

Today I made some friends named Katrine and Hakim — she a native of Denmark, him, of Morocco — who were on their third date and also at the craft beer and food truck festival on the Carlsberg brewery grounds that a brewer here who grew up in Durham like me and is a friend of my old friend got me into.

We sat together on a curb outside the event, passing two spliffs among the three of us and talking about world affairs and national shame.

I told them about Anthony Weiner and Huma and Hillary and about my idea for a shirt featuring the USAmerican flag and the words I’M SORRY in as many languages as possible.

The Danish is undskyld, they told me back, adding that I personally needn’t apologize, and I wrote it all down to remember.

Katrine photographed me deep in my international, ineffectual coin purse, fighting through the mis-math of trying to convert inadequate euro plus some rogue Antillean guilder into adequate beer fest tokens for buying Cambodian hot rock ’n’ rolls to share with my fest friends, two of three of whom would turn out to be vegetarian anyway.

Later I looked at how I also wrote the words tissekone and fisse, Danish slang for parts of a woman, and too drew a crude likeness of the Nike swoosh. No telling why. America, maybe.

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suicide pact

She said,

I am in a deep funk tonight.

I said,

I mean, there’s no point to anything, certainly

Iʼve been thinking a lot about this thing you said that night back in Brooklyn when I went off to maybe have sex with Redford (I didnʼt, by the way — he just stretched my hamstrings for me and showed me several drawings heʼd done of different breeds of dog pooping), the thing about desiring some alternative category of togetherness for us

Because I feel that, too

And I was thinking that we could slit our wrists together

She said,

A suicide pact. I never even thought of that and here I thought I was more involved in the dark arts than you.

I said,

Well

Iʼm trying to be psyched about continuing to live this life so maybe thatʼs not quite the one I want

Itʼs just, like, this is all so BURDENSOME

But

I guess Iʼm choosing to gamble on the premise that thereʼs an answer

If only one in the form of some formula for survival

She said,

I donʼt feel very close to death. Let’s keep at it; we can do better.

I said,

Iʼm sorry living is so much work

I wish I could magic it away for you

Although I guess if you were someone who could be fooled by magic I wouldnʼt have nearly as much use for you

Use, admiration, appetite

Need.

She said,

Thank you for offering a vague sense of possibility that doesnʼt feel dumb or like lies.

I said,

I guess Iʼm going to keep trying to pack

Iʼm petrified of Berlin

I canʼt even figure out how to say “Iʼm sorry, I donʼt speak German” in German.

She said,

Berlin is amazing and everyone speaks English, they are ashamed of everything too. You will love it there I suspect.

I said,

Iʼm looking forward to some public toplessness, I think.

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almost-total solitude

I said,

Already Iʼve lapsed into the insanity of someone whoʼs gone from a too-social existence to almost-total solitude

The truth is I am terrified at all times, and to pretend that all I notice is the sunshine and beer and new friends is the only answer I know.

(Although maybe thatʼs exactly whatʼs at the root of such annoying manners at their most manifest, a vain effort to keep the demons of consciousness at bay?)

I slept so badly last night, mostly because of anxiety about getting up in time to do everything necessary in the apartment and be packed and make it to my bus on time, but also I think because Iʼve been on a cocktail of melatonin and some kind of over-the-counter antihistamine to get on this time zone but skipped them last night because I was afraid of oversleeping HOWEVER in the one good, tranquil, unworried hour of sleep I got, I was dreaming about us hiking in the Old World, and it was great.

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I have the back row to myself

I said,

Some of this, I am RAPIDLY realizing, is about enslavement to material things 

I took along so little of what I have

And still it is far far far too much 

I have the back row of the upper deck of this seven-hour bus to Berlin to myself, which feel auspicious 

Not even auspicious 

Itʼs just plain good, in real time 

There is WiFi, evidently, and outlets, and I packed multiple sandwiches of Ingaʼs refrigerator dregs and thought to buy extra water, and Iʼm hopeful 

Iʼll make lists, and maybe friends with the sweet boy who, with me, was last to board and is now settled in ahead of me and to the left 

Maybe I will offer him some of my seats, as he only has two while I have five 

It looks like he let his guitar be put with the luggage, though, so I will not ask if he knows any Decemberists 

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the yellow flowers to stop

I’m in the back of a bus to Berlin, I told him, wondering how they get the yellow flowers to just stop all of a sudden.
What? he said, and I sent him a picture on the telephone of what I was looking at, Danish meadows dense with something that made them yellow, totally, until with a disorganized border that was obviously following its own orders the yellow thing stopped growing and a green thing began. Swirls of color. Waves washing on a shore.
I think that stuff is called “rapeseed,” he wrote back.
I said, Thank god.
He said, There must be a better name for it.
I said, How could there possibly be a better name for anything at all ever?
I said, Murderplant.
I said, Punching people in the facetree.

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