NO LIES - just bullshit.

A Morning After. 31/10/11

It’s not the sound of snoring men that stirs me from my sleep. Instead it’s the sound of the creaking floorboards by the door that wake me; nimble footsteps not nearly nimble enough to sneak back into the dorm unannounced. 

Im that little bit startled in a dizzy state of consciousness but that soon passes when I see that it is her. I smile, turn over, and close my eyes to sleep once again. 

She would go up to her bed now and do the same, I imagine. I wonder if I could go up and lay beside her; put my arm around and draw her close to my body. 

We’ve flirted and kissed and talked about what it is that we like - we like similar things. It doesn’t bother me that she’s just come back from some other dude’s bed, place, house, home.

She’d probably like sleep, though. As I do. We’ll flirt some more in the morning. I’ll ask to fondle her arse in Hungarian, again. She’ll oblige. That will probably be the extent of it. Im sleeping with another girl. 

Fuck. 25/10/11

Ok.

A bag of twenty-three kilos and carry-on of seven kilos. Fuck.

I really need to figure out what Im sending home.

What to leave? 

Ok.

There are ways around this. Do I ask her for a suitcase? That’s a fucking awesome idea. They’re family. They wont have a problem with it. Problem solved already.

Teenage Girls. 25/10/11.

She is young. She is on her European gap-year holiday. 

She travels in groups. Still a part of her highschool clic. And rarely does she step outside of her social circle. Life has not yet tossed her about. 

The stories she tells are stories all heard before. Transferred between her and her friends. And her experiences have all been experienced before. Some without ever having left home. 

Her eyes are glazed open by the European Summer. And that’s how they stay until she returns home. 

A voice. 24/10/11.

And at last there is a voice that is finally speaking. One that is not tainted or monopolised by conglomerates. It is free of politics and politicians but still aims to be heard in the political framework of this day even though it is fighting to rebuild it. It speaks for democracy but not the Democracy the Western World has been living by; it has not been heard or seen for some time. It seems to be scaring people. It seems to be unusual. Or strange. It is what worries people: The unknown. But it’s not. It has only been forgotten. And it will only be with Direct Action that we will see change. That we will enact change. That change will occur. 

Truc. 21/10/11

Bets are words and words are plays and plays are the entertainment. But that’s how this game is played. And won. And lost. 

There they are, the three of them, sitting, sharing the bottle of white wine.

                                                                                               20/10/11

Vodka. 22/10/11.

Vital to our survival, I said. Cheap. Ugly. Disgusting. Vodka.

My Pen’s name is (was) Maly. 19/10/11

I didnt write for a few days. My pen wouldnt last. It gave and gave but in the end it just had to give. Up and it was time for it too. It had become frustrating. To write, pushing down. Too hard, pushing into the paper. And only leaving imprints. It couldn’t do. To write  like this. And get nothing. 

A Ramble (with a new pen) 19/10/11

Her body lays partly beneath mine.

And mine partly beneath hers.

My arm feels the warmth of her lower back whilst my fingers play beats on her side.

Sliding my hand down the back of her thigh to her knee I raise her leg up and go in to give her a kiss. 

Again she tilts her head to the side.

Again my lips glance over her jawline.

Again they come to rest on her collarbone.

Her body shivers for a moment. 

This is the game that she has me play. 

Tickets. 16/10/11.

“Have a nice day,” he says, pointing in the direction the train was heading. “You walk now.”

I nod and walk. I dont look back. I keep focused and walk straight ahead, thumbs inside the shoulder straps of my backpack. 

…

They called out for tickets. Train tickets. I was at the other end of the train carriage but we had just departed the first station.

Think.

They moved past the first few people.

Think.

They passed the middle doors.

Think.

“Tickets?”

“Que?” 

“Tickets.” He showed me some. 

“Arghhhh. Tiket. Yes, yes. I hav.” I opened my bag knowing that it wasnt there. My right hand searched for it blindly. It didnt appear. “I hav ticket,” I reassured him. This time I began to slowly take out what was in my bag. Bit by bit. One thing at a time. I laid it all out on the seat beside me as the train moved along. “I no find.” 

He motioned me to get up and I did after putting everything I had taken out of my bag back in. The train stopped and we were about to get off but a lady opposite me called out. I had left my phone behind on the seat. I turned, pocketed it and followed him and his partner out the doors. 

He bagan talking to me of a fine. Forty euros or something. I pretended to not understand. 

“Fine? No, no. I hav tiket.” This time i opened my wallet and searched inside. No ticket.

Again he explained to me that there would be a fine to pay for travelling without a ticket. 

“I hav tiket. I no find now but I hav tiket.” I could tell that his patience was wearing thin. 

“But you dont have a ticket now, or do you?” he asked. 

“I no find now.” I pointed to the ticket machine behind him, “I buy tiket new now. Ok?”

“No.” He asked for cash. I had heard that these ticket inspectors could demand money up front. Not a bribe but money to pay the fine. 

“Money? Now? I no have.” He demanded to see my wallet. I knew I had fifty plus euros in there but I had it folded and tucked away behind a card in the notes section. As I opened him my wallet I held the card against the fifty euro note. It was hidden.

“Card?”

Fuck, this guy just wouldnt give up. I showed him my bank card. He asked if I had any money on there. I said that I had American dollars only. I lied. He asked if it would work.

“Only have American money. No euro,” I said. Holding my card he told me to follow him. He led me up the stairs and his partner followed behind me. The partner was following not so much as to prevent me from running off (I didnt need my bank card since I had a spare) but because it seemed I had annoyed the fuck out of him for the past ten minutes. He reached the top of the stairs before me and I could see him looking around. The fucker was looking for an ATM. Motherfucker. I stood beside him and looked around too. There were none. We were in a void. Nothing was around us except for concrete and a few garden beds. The partner joined us and they began to speak to each other. He wanted to walk and find an ATM but the partner didnt. The partner’s body language said he couldnt be fucked. I wanted to agree with him. He handed back my card and said…