(no subject)
who knew travellers had such terrible taste in books? every time i go into a book exchange i have a hard time picking just because there is nothing to pick from. although i have ended up with some good things: short stories by Luis Sepulveda, El Tunel by Ernesto Sabato, The Old Patagonian Express by Paul Theroux (err, mixed feelings), Cancer Ward by Solzhenitsin, The Count of Monte Cristo (and I gotta say, the mini series of like 40 hours is better...), Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi (eh..), The World According to Garp by John Irving (athough i read it in spanish, wierd), etc. I can`t wait to go to a library! and a bookstore! and drink coffee! i think this continent, or at least what i`ve seen of it, is completely lacking in those things, except maybe buenos aires. but even in buenos aires the libraries all have hidden stacks and you never actually get to see the books.
starting to run into people in this town. time to go. also, still having nightmares where i wake up sweating and talking to myself, saying, "don`t whistle at me asshole, don`t whistle." the attractiveness of the person being besieged has nothing to do with the effort involved, not like that would be an excuse anyway. i started giving the middle finger to anyone who`d listen and one taxi driver stuck his hand out in response and put his thumb and index finger together as if showing the size of something small. what`s it all mean?
also, my old, japanese neighbor in the hostel is nuts. he is a self flagellator, as in he spends all day and all night hitting himself repeatedly with his palm(s). i haven`t actually seen him do this but i hear him doing it through the wall that does not go all the way up to the ceiling between our rooms. i declared war last night and every time he started smacking himself i would bang on the wall. he would instantly stop only to start up more quietly in a little while, growing louder quickly. i would bang on the wall again and over and over, ALL NIGHT. he speaks no spanish or english and i no japanese, so i am afraid that will be the extent of our communication.
also, someone on this computer was doing inventory. sold: 40 amor sin secretos (love without secrets), 5 pasaporte para la vida (passports for life) and 20 estrés (stress) for a grand total of 1653.75 soles, about 550 dollars.
volaré mañana, por fin.
starting to run into people in this town. time to go. also, still having nightmares where i wake up sweating and talking to myself, saying, "don`t whistle at me asshole, don`t whistle." the attractiveness of the person being besieged has nothing to do with the effort involved, not like that would be an excuse anyway. i started giving the middle finger to anyone who`d listen and one taxi driver stuck his hand out in response and put his thumb and index finger together as if showing the size of something small. what`s it all mean?
also, my old, japanese neighbor in the hostel is nuts. he is a self flagellator, as in he spends all day and all night hitting himself repeatedly with his palm(s). i haven`t actually seen him do this but i hear him doing it through the wall that does not go all the way up to the ceiling between our rooms. i declared war last night and every time he started smacking himself i would bang on the wall. he would instantly stop only to start up more quietly in a little while, growing louder quickly. i would bang on the wall again and over and over, ALL NIGHT. he speaks no spanish or english and i no japanese, so i am afraid that will be the extent of our communication.
also, someone on this computer was doing inventory. sold: 40 amor sin secretos (love without secrets), 5 pasaporte para la vida (passports for life) and 20 estrés (stress) for a grand total of 1653.75 soles, about 550 dollars.
volaré mañana, por fin.