As a backpacker I kind of like being hot, but it's got to be in the summer, sweltering hot. You know when you can't sleep because it's too hot and you fight with the sheets and you're all sweat and there's nothing more you can take off.
I kind of like that. It's a struggle, and, in a way, I liked struggles, in a masochistic way. I can lay there for hours, not quite asleep not quite awake, staring and hallucinating, thinking about something, blowing it up out of all proportion and trying to calm myself like you calm a baby when it starts wailing.
Anyway, I was sitting around. That's what you do on holidays, and, to be honest, in life. You sit around and observe or others sit around and observe. I spent some considerable time by myself on the promenade. I like my own company. I'm quiet. I don't ask for anything. I'm invisible, stoic, just the way I like myself to be, just the way I've always been.
Babies cry. I used to sit around and watch things. Kids watch retarded programmes on TV. I used to change the channels. So, anyway, I was sitting around, by myself, the best of company being no company. And I saw all sorts. A traditional wedding, with violins, accordion, crazy dog, awful singing but happy people in a group dancing and taking pictures. They would remember that moment for the rest of their anonymous lives. My cousin said that I should marry back home. First of all, I don't like marriage. Secondly, I don't like fuss and I can't be bothered to dance.
Thirdly, I'm an outsider. I said to him I'd like that very much. I also quite liked his wife but I never said that because he would've hit me.
I can't remember how it started but it was late for them and we were sitting like overweight cowboys talking, or, rather, he was talking and I was nodding. We started pouring the drinks because he was kind and encouraging. He started moaning about his life, his money, his parents who were about ten feet away, his wife, his kid and everything else. I started moaning about my life, my money, my university, my ambitions and everything else. I offered him a cigarette and he took it but he only smoked one because he'd quit. I smoked a few because I felt guilty smoking in front of a quitter. I poured the drinks but he wasn't drinking too much. He probably didn't want to drink too much because of his family in the other rooms so I took it easy as a mark of respect. Then I started insulting his religion, the first thing I do when I get drunk. Then I started telling him to leave and do something with his life. We got on really well. His dad came in and was surprised to see us drinking and smoking. As luck would have it he didn't join us but went back to bed. He's a cool old guy. Then my cousin's wife came in asking when he's coming to bed. She looked tired and annoyed but I didn't care. That's his problem. I'm not in the family. Great. She left when he said in a minute. It's amazing that women believe that shit. I didn't have to go for a piss because it was so hot I was just sweating it all out. Finally he got tired and gave up and we ran out of things to say and went to bed. It was about three in the morning and I'd been drinking vodka and whiskey for four hours. But at the end of all this male bonding I was still bored. For a week I was on a diet of beer for breakfast, beer for lunch, and beer, whiskey and vodka for dinner. It was the only way I could stand them for so long, god bless them.
I saw an old guy who drew caricatures of people. There was one ugly family and all the ugly kids wanted to have theirs done. I watched these ugly little geniuses sitting there smiling for the old man and he loved it because the money came in nice and easy and the kids were so ugly the job was piss easy. The old man couldn't draw for shit but the family loved the finished masterpieces. They went away smiling like idiots. I was watching moody as hell. I was thinking I could do this, give me that charcoal old man, I could do this, maybe I could make some money on holiday. Then there was a little kid with his little dog and his fat dad was really excited. I couldn't stand it any longer, especially when the obese bastard sat down with a cigarette dangling from his dirty mouth. I thought I'm getting the hell out of here.
We went to some entertainment place at night with bouncy castles for kids and discos for older kids. I wanted to touch a lioness which was being paraded on the street. But it was expensive and I didn't want to be killed. The family annoyed me. The aunt or whatever she kept telling me how pretty her daughter in law was and how they made a wonderful couple. I agreed but I'd rather have touched the lioness. They were all amazed at how quiet I was but I was quiet because I couldn't speak the language and quiet because I didn't like them and quiet because I'm a moody bastard. Anyway, some girls, some pretty fine girls gave me suggestive looks but I was stuck with the idiots so I couldn't leave. They were supposed to be looking after me. They kept saying how dangerous everything was and how I shouldn't go off by myself. The only danger, as far as I could see, was when I would snap and beat the shit out of them. The older couple walked slowly because they were older and out of touch, the younger couple, my cousin and his not bad but snobby wife, walked slowly because of their little girl. I like to walk fast. I like to do things fast. I like to get things out the way. Fast. Thankfully, that night finished along with all the other nights and one day and one night will be the last and all this crazy universe will turn into an easter egg and some fat little shit will eat the whole lot and there's god, our intellectual perfect little moronic saviour who's going to regurgitate us. And that's it, baby.
One day I sat out in the steaming heat. I went and bought some cigarettes. Nobody knew I smoked and I was hiding it from them like the first time. I lit up and looked at the Eminescu memorial statue and I envied his good looks but I thought I wasn't too bad. In fact, if you look at the pictures, Eminescu was ugly as he got older whereas I'm getting prettier by the day. I wished it was my statue there. I wished I was going mad, and I was, locked away somewhere. I hated being an unknown but I also hated being known. I wanted all the pretty girls to come and beg for my autograph and I would sign everything and kiss everything and say something like yeah that was my masterpiece but it was damn hard and I owe it all to Eminescu, our national hero. Only I wouldn't be able to say that shit because I can't speak the language. It would have to be short and sweet.
My cousin wrote to me recently saying he's expecting another baby, the same way as I'm expecting junk mail. He nearly killed his whole family in a car crash. That fool. I knew he was a bad driver.
My grandfather died on a hot, sunny, day so I'm no longer too fond of the sun. It's just a ball of fire roasting our desire. And that shit rhymes and rhyme is what Blake did best. And that's it, baby.
