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Humbugs. Things are fine and I have nothing to say except, oh: Do you ever sometimes, at night in a strange bed, say to yourself, how the fuck did I get here? What am I doing? Who am I? Wait, what? Maybe those of us prone to one night stands can relate, but having never indulged in one of those, that's not even what I'm talking about. But it works and if that's how you can relate, relate. But I mean, sometimes, it hits me all at once. How the fuck did I get here? I've been in strange beds all around the world, all around the United States, here and there and places in between and it wasn't all that long ago that I was in a different place and now I'm here and it gets a little overwhelming. I always think I live a pretty simple life but if I lived a simple life I wouldn't be overwhelmed by all the non-simple things I do and have done. If I'd stayed in my little farming village in the Ukraine like Leonid Stadnik maybe I could have simple stories of excitement to tell down at the pub, like that one time I went to Kiev to get a new ladder - now THAT was an eventful thing in my life. Instead I have so many stories to tell I couldn't even begin and what if I forget them all and all these phases in my life are completely different and so am I and how did I get from there to here? That's the thing. Every night I go to bed and get up the next morning and do whatever it is I do and then again go to bed that night and that's what I've done every day of my life (for the most part) and somehow I managed to get to where I am right now but along the way went to all these places and met all these people and if I forget about them all it might as well have never happened. Except it did. Except it did and I want more. It's the wanderlust, or at least that's the name I use to justify it. I want to go back to Australia, I want to go to Denmark, I want to go to Tokyo. I want to eat Thai food in Thailand and sit in a cafe in Paris and get off the train at Civitavecchia and go to islands and go to New Orleans and go to Georgia. I want to go to Jamaica and India and Egypt and Madagascar and I want to have hot nights and hot days and be in the markets that I already know the smell of even though I've never been there in this life. I want to wake up in the morning and walk through an airport and onto a plane and get off the plane in a completely different place and go to bed that night in a strange bed somewhere in the world and give myself another reason to freak out. Additionally, I have flower beds with crocuses and I planted some marigolds today, even though there's still the danger of frost. But I am petulant and impetuous.
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