Drinking Coffee From a Bowl

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Smudged colored pencil sunrise over the atlantic in a metal humming tube. Insomnia from Newark, New Jersey to Geneva, Switzerland, Eight hours on Qatar Airlines (complimentary socks) flight.

Pre-sleep Breakfast ($10 cheese) at 2 AM, I stumbled around in the night sun in the ridiculously expensive city ($3 coffees and $8 Kebabs) for 2 day-nights and a night-day, throwing my money away and drinking my self to sleep, legally (for once), in the park.

A train to Grenoble...

...a ride from the station into the mountains to La Mure

Pouring my morning coffee into my uncultured liquid containing device (a mug), I made a fool of myself upon my first morning in my new role (playing the forgotten fith child just brought home from the insane asylum, the one who makes puzzled faces when you talk to him, who can now only mumble incomprehensible ghibberish, and who drools when he tries to say spoon in French.

One week: eating, picking fruit in the sun, doing house chores, eating, staring at the Alps, eating, wondering how much cheese can amass in the intestines of a man before they burst, smoking.

I will write a complete sentence before this is over.

goodbye,

steve

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Comments

[cockarille]

shart
the um solution to your um... internal suffocation as it were, is to rub your belly with the blood of a freshly sodomized goat and then fart, but not shart, unless you have a new canvas to record the organic pattern of your sphincter grooves.

[Rowbear]

....like the chien you are
Esteban, mon ami, your prose moves me like an exploding colon and echoes the words of the great existentialist writer, Hunter de Thompson: "Le Français ils sont une course drôle, ils combattent avec leurs pieds et baisent avec leur visage." But perhaps you might prefer it in the barbaric original: "The French they are a funny race, they fight with their feet and fuck with their face." If your lord and lady give you (or any of the other serfs) any merde about slacking on the farm work, remind them that "un Néerlandais mène Le Tour, et Christophe Moreau* ne pourrait pas porter mon bagage." Awww, rev war! Rowbear *Moreau (the Maginot Line of French cycling) is France's great hope for this year's Tour, which means he's hovering somewhere around 50th place, chain smoking in the rear of the peloton.

[Dell Phavero]

hmmmmm?
Cramp? TMC