spainspainspainspainspainspainspain is where I be at.

I'm sleepy, but Spain is wonderful, thanks for asking. My body is currently stuck in some weird mental quasi-psychological backwards time warp, but not. Let me explain: it's currently midnight but my body thinks it's six but at the same time my body is exhausted and it doesn't know why and it gets angry and lashes out at loved ones (figurative loved ones) when it's hurt and confused so it's in this inevitably cantankerous downward spiral where it keeps getting pissed off at itself for how tired it is and refuses to listen to reason or read a clock. However, the rest of me is doing fairly well and has learned to ignore the body when it goes off one of its vaguely passive aggressive, semi-hallucinatory pathetic sleep rampages.

I'm in the wi-fi lounge (pronounced zona de wee-fee) of a hotel in Sevilla, and I should probably be sleeping, but that's a precondition for efficient and high-quality blogging, or so I have concluded from extensive laboratory test-blogging. (The entire last year and 9 months of blogging(or not-blogging, as the case may be) have been an experiment.[chew on that.] If that makes you feel emotionally manipulated or used or metaphorically filthy and in need of a shower, then just imagine how it makes *me* feel.{And then let me know because I don't quite know where I stand on the issue yet.}) (But don't even get me started on feeling in need of a shower; I have very strong convictions) (and odors)

The journey to get to this point (the wee-fee lounge), however, is more interesting and/or eventful. Any inherent connection between those two adjectives, however, is insubstantial. (I've done the tests; I've spent long hours blogging in the laboratory to create the evidence. [Take this however you want to. Think deeply about it, or don't.]) But this story *should* be at least one of those two disconnected things: interesting and eventful. (Keep in mind that we've already discussed how logically confusing and inadvertently instrumental but undemanding the *should* imperative can be.) (I don't know what I'm talking about.)

These last 48(?), 72(¿) hours?¿ have been quite ridiculous, marking this summer as a time for great adventure and new experience. s.

The new experiences and adventures haven't been confined to just Spain either; one of the first few began on my flight to New York. Seated beside my genially hasidic acquaintance (kind of like being acidic, but friendlier and more snappily dressed and generally not harmful in any way), I bit the bullet, said goodbye to my childhood, prepared to forge a new pathway of experience in my life, and requested tomato juice when the stewardess offered us beverages, eager to try something new.



*spit out bile and clear  out phlegm*



Despite this grievous misstep, I was able to recover and get back on the right path. (It took me years to remember how to spell flem, I mean phlgim, I mean snot. [I know years sounds like an exaggeration but I'm in a different time zone; so keep that in mind])


Then the rest of my travels went fairly well, at least until I arrived in Madrid after an overnight flight in which I sat next to an adorable old french couple who didn't know a single word of any language that I am familiar with. (except french; I was able to share a moment with them whenever they said fromage. Thanks to a childhood filled with Dexter's Laboratory, I managed to find a common ground in a shared experience with the phenomenon that is cheese. [also in laughing about airline food, which they ate zero of; they just picked up our packaged breakfast foods individually and then dropped them again, like they were gorillas slowly learning how to use sticks, or like aliens discovering plastic backscratchers: trying to decipher their intended function, and then laughing at what must appear to be a pitiful attempt at something greater, or a thoroughly valid, thoughtfully worked-out solution to an insignificant and impossibly inconsequential idle non-problem.

Now, because it is late and my body is beginning to furiously beg and plead with itself in hopes that it will cease the relentless and miserably pointless passive self-injury, I will go to sleep.  I will continue this blog later. I will post this portion now, so that I don't leave the beginning hopelessly anachronistic and temporally ambiguous. (Porque editing is a certain activity, up with which I shall not put.) (Also present tense is funner and I prefer not to choose between watering down my blogtastic drama or telling obvious (and therefore ineffective) untruths.) (funner is too a word.)

(Welcome back to my blog by the way. I'm in Spain at the moment but I left cookies.)

(What?)

(I pray to Jesus, Brahman, the Holy Spirit, Buddha(who is not a god), Shiva, KamaSutra, and the ever-loving L. Ron Hubbard that my room has been left unlocked.)