It's hard to think, when my mind goes blank

Ash, falafel, Godard in the bed. Habit ensues. Walter Benjamin. Charlemagne. Frantic flat-hunting. Quickly developing some sort of Plan B for the summer that basically involves hanging around here, but referring to it, more affectionately, as a genetically modified Plan A. Wardrobe has consisted primarily of running shorts and flip-flops, diet of double espressos (you can imagine the effect this has had on my bowels). Some heavy naps. Tobacco intake decreases by the day. Last night, I ate half of a cherry pie and this morning, I finished the rest for breakfast. It wasn't very good; the crust, like a good number of things in this country, had way too much butter in it.

I honestly don't know where the days go. I can't tell if things have gotten exceptionally surreal, or if this just the way life generally becomes at a certain point. All I know is that my ability to step to the majority of people has, for the moment, receded almost entirely into non-existence.