Saturday, July 12, 2003

I've missed this blog so much. I'm always wanting to write while I'm over here, but a pen just isn't the same. I'm such a child of my generation; I have a mechanized, wired mind. And I can't escape that. I don't even want to.

I'll be home in less than a week; my flight leaves from London on July 18th. While I don't really have time to wax poetic about the whole thing just now, I really do feel like I've seen and done one hell of a lot of things. In some ways, I almost can't imagine being home again. It's not that it's been so long as that really. It's just that my mind is always geared to be on the move. I don't relax here, so the idea of just relaxing seems strange and foreign. But I love the concept. I miss the practice. And I miss everyone at home too.

I'm writing today from Brugge (Bruges), Belgium. I spent yesterday in my grandmother's hometown of Tongeren, Belgium. Before that we were in Amsterdam, which is a very cool city. At least six times, scruffy looking junkies tried to sell me drugs. But they were so polite about it that it wasn't distressing in the least. "Excuse me, ladies, but would you be interested in buying some Charlies?" "No, thank you." "Well, then, have a nice day!" And before that we were in Berlin, which I very much enjoyed. Especially the East. Jody wasn't quite as thrilled as me; she found it depressing. But I like concrete, and Soviet blocks and bizarre sculptures devoted to the working people. I bought things in East Berlin, and I rarely buy things over here. Everything in East Berlin is dirt cheap, and utterly junk. My kind of city. Sort of like the Odd Lots of Germany. Scruffy, with just a hint of danger and filth about it.

In two days, I'll leave for Paris, where I'll spend three days. Then we'll fly to London and then home.

Well, my bill is quickly amassing. And I want to get out and see Brugge. And escape this awful instrumental version of U2's "With or Without You" they're playing here.

Peace and love to everyone at home. See you in a week or so.