October 10. At the Nigerian embassy.

At the Nigerian Embassy I wait to apply for a visa. Theire is no "blond" on the form for hair color. Applicants are instructed to fill in "black" for the hair and "brown" for the skin. People smile. Their smiles all resemble each other from my perspective. I will make my payment online and talk to the  consul. He tells me he needs more than a week since he is on a trip. They don't even have a person to handle issuing of visas. So I sit there on that leather couch in the highly secured Nigerian embassy and decide to speak my mind. My dear consul, I say, in that case I think my money is better spent in Kenya. They sell visas at the border. You should consider that. As you wish, sir, as you wish. There are more reasons why I say no to Nigeria. I think two months in the Kenya region are definitely not too much. And I need this blow from bureaucracy. It is a well-known fact that bureaucracy will kill me in the end, but until then, I want to stick as many voodoo needles through her skin as I can, to make the imaginary evil body causing all the coldness suffer. And I train to stay very calm, like that too. So as I ask my appliances back and stride out of the consulate, I start to sing

sickening system has done it again
bureaucracy strikes me a blow today
she knows how to hurt in a terrible way
but it will make me stronger
stronger in the end, yes i know i know
it will make me stronger, then
it will make me a better man
to feel how much i hate inhuman bureaucrats
to despise them like contagious sewer rats
to feel it, feel it, and then to conquer it
to be larger than it 
and to smile...

March 31. The Stranger cannot win.

O The biggest poser might also be saying some true words. I play this. This is a first-person novel but as a person I want to put you first. It is an experimental thing I think should be done and it costs me less time doing it myself than looking up in the records of the surrealist writers who have already done it. It's not about O understanding or even communicating some ideas I cooked up in my private kitchen. Maybe it's about Otherness. About the struggle between the Stranger and his Conceptualization, a struggle the O stranger cannot win.

See what I am heading at? The world is the best therapy. Take my word for it. She can show you so much, you can feel big, you can feel small, you can see how big we are, you can see how small we are. Laughing. Smiling. Trying to live with an everlasting smile on my face that will not annoy anyone - that's harder than it seems. A smile nobody wants to smash off your face. I don't think it's possible. What do you think? You never say anything back. A person that always smiles, she will inevitably become a pain in the ass won't she? I am really wondering. And hoping.

The woman who was not Sara left yesterday.

March 22. Luck.

Luck seems to follow me wherever I go. Even on a normal day when I some work that muse is right behind me. What is the nature of good luck? Getting lucky? I don't mean winning the lottery or living a long and healthy life. I don't know either, you tell me. I feel very tired and my blog is way behind, now tell myself I have to write something about luck. What are we anyway? It is of course just interpretation. I just felt bedazzlingly lucky because of the delicious coffee that was served by the beautiful waitress here in Gallo 702 in Buenos Aires. The waitress wears braces that are glued to her teeth. I can see it when she smiles. That's a pure observation, don't you think?