Abstract Feelings while Hiding from a Beating

Feeling faintly abstract today - in fact very surreal. I still cannot divulge where in Spain I am in fear of being caught and squashed by a big Film Industry thug - so you can live without that I guess. The sun rays caught me today and the mildest first sunburn of the season got me thinking of summer and surf and the Beach Boys sound while I was partaking of a swift lager or two in a sleepy spanish town in my sleepy old way like a Mexican with Sleeping sickness under my Sombrero. Still no meet up yet with the Agnes character or of course Petra. I have been talking in my Pigeon way around the locals and into the supermarkets to by the Wine and Bread to feed my 5000 hunger and thirst pangs. The wandering around does start getting to you and it got to me so much I ended up in a Laundromat washing my filthy clothes - so wandering is sometimes good if it gets to be hygenic do you not think squire ? So now I have well laundered clothes and I am getting paranoid of stains and dirt in general. When I open a beer I actually pull away and try to avoid spray. When I sit on the ground I look for a newspaper or the like to sit on first. Ahhh the joys of clean clothes - I feel 100% attractive - lean - except for a bulging stomach - and happy in a kind of isolated occasionally paranoid way. So te days drift on - onw into the other as I lay low - a fugitive in a foreign land - in hiding but actually free - free to do whatever I want, which is drink beer and wine - smoke Benson, and chat a bit with locals in a trivial way. Perhaps life will come back to wallop me on the head but I might as well enjoy this interlude while I have it - it may not last as long as it feels !!

Trouble, BIG trouble !!

Oh boy - its been quite a week - got the sack - I'll have to quick - Ricardo is after me and wants my blood spilled all over the kitchen table or wherever - and YES it is all about a Women ( Maria - OHHHH Maria) and I went for her big time and how was I to know that it was Big Rics bit on the side thankyou very much - Daggers are drawn and I dont have one - my life is cheap now - like a Guatamalan Farmers assistant - I have no real value except to the people who love me and there are none - except of course Agnes who texted me recently and I expect to turn up some time and set me loose from these chains of fear I live in - I have moved on - but christ you should have seen the Wrath !! he means business - anyway - there is no way I'm going to spill the beans on where I am - so until it dies down I will keep quiet about that - I did have a swim today and 15 beers and a slurp of Scotch - nice - needed that I'll fill you in if I'm not filled in first - wish me luck

Film Plot

Run Run Run - ba DOOO Run Run Run - this lark is quite pleasing now I get paid 150 euros a day and I get free booze. The actors and actresses are very nice and know how to relax - and I even know the plot. There is this gangster type from the UK known as Ronnie and his Spanish gang of Gypsies and they run a protection racket in Barcelona. A young Restaurant owner, Fred, tries to stand up to them but becomes embroiled in a heated love affair with Ronnies wife - Garlatta - who is Romanian I think. She tells Fred she will run away with him and on the night of their running away - Ronnie turns up with a slashed arm - They take him to hospital where he has a fit and smashes up the casualty department. Garlatta and Fred go down South and stay in a small town but after a few weeks she says she must return to see her Mother who is very ill - she decides to go in disguise - but Ronnies gang have thought of that and are staking her mothers hospital - She gets knifed by Ronnie himself - but she manages to push him under a bu where he dies. She however lives thrugh the knifing and breates the gang in a big scene att the fair where she tells them that they have ruined her life - they vow to follow her as leader if she wishes but she returns to small town living with Fred and start up a Restaurant - only to be pestered by small town hoods with a protection racket. She takes up killing them all one by one and becomes Mrs Big Fish in small pond - Fred falls out of love with her once he sees her nasty side and packs to leave but she will have none of it and threatens to kill him - in the ensuing fight he kills her with a kitchen knife and returns to Barcelona a broken man. He visits his mother who knows nothing of these tragic events and the film ends with him quietly shivering while drinking sherry watching Alien on the TV.

Good Plot
Good acting
Its called The Hood
And I recommend it when it comes out

Still a Runner

Had a long chat with Allani today about cash and she seemed to be implying that there would be none and I should be grateful to get such interesting work that a few drinks would suffice. Well I nearly exploded - I do not work for nothing I said - It would seem that you are taking the piss - Being Spanish dark haired and feisty she spat back at me that my type were two a penny in Barca and as far as she was concerned I could piss off,. Well Marco stepped in with 100 euros and stuffed it in my pocket and told me to get a quiet drink and settle down coz it was going to be a hard day. I ran around Barcelona - bumped into a few people and skived off in some nice gerdens with an omelette and a beer - charged around all afternoon trying to find a dress wuth Catrina - one of the sub leading ladies and trim and argumentative. This evening I went to a party and smapled the Barca Kitchen Party scene - drinking cocktails with stoned crew and insulting posh people. I staggered back here at 11pm and am now typing this naked - whoa slow down down now.

A quick poem

Rancid Butter in my Hair
Leeks and chopsticks leap
Mango Chutney in my hair also
And the small people eat it all.

Rabbits prancing in the Impossible Creature Game
With Crocodile teeth and chewing gum
Still the small people hurry and then relax
And then start behaving like tall people.

Beirut cheese and olive pate in wine vinegar
With belts and braces and nice trousers
Young women clasping their tummies
With their friends the small people taking over the world
(Much like the meek might one day)

Work in Barcelona

Got offered a job today - running for a film crew - you know - delivering messages and packages and rolls of film and all that jazz - so I took it and Marco (33 year old dark haired guy with annoyingly bright white teeth) and Allani his 19 year old girl assistant seemed to take a liking to me at the bar near my hotel and they are something to do with some flm being shot for the next few days in Barcelona and hey have had three or four guys walk out on them because of a nasty bust up involving some kind of fight and money and the like. So I have said Yes and I started today at 2pm. I was completely lost for a ages delivering a package in some tiny street and a map they had given me which was a bit chewed up - when I went up the steps to the big wooded door I coud hear laughing and after I knocked this huge fat guy opened and gave me a throaty OLA and then took the package. I could hear some sort of row going on inside and a bit of pushing and shoving but I was told to piss off before I could see anything. Acouple of packages later and I was back at the sae place - this was getting easier ! AHHH RElax I know my way round !! and this big fat guy invites me in for Mojitas and Ham Sandwichs which was pleasant - I knocked with his crew who were about six stron blokes and lasses - groovy smoker types with VERY COLOURFUL clothes - so vibrant and flowery and zinging that I needed sunglasses. I got quite relaxed and the Big Guy played me at table football and I beat him and he started coughing a lot - so I beat a retreat and back to Marcu And Allani for my next assignment - which turned out looking after the main lead in the film - Roberti who was parched - and did not have any more scenes today - so we got absolutely hammered at Dostrece in Calle Carme on multiple Mr JJs (Mr. JJ is mighty cocktail of a huge splash of Jameson with lime juice, vanilla and Sucre and stir, pepped up with ginger ale and ice to be precise). So I dod a good job and Roberti told me about his wicked ways and the high jinx he was up to his neck in multiple girlfriends and affairs with married women - Mama Madre !

So all in all things are looking up - but there seemed to be no mention of me being paid today and I have realised that I have not actually negotiated a deal here - so NOTE TO MYSELF - work that one out quick or it will end in tears.

Jeezers Whip and wangle

Flipped out sideways today in my Barcelona cubbyhole. Became INTRANSIGENT and STUBBORN beyond belief - refused to think laterally and made no headway towards a brighter future. Petra is NOT arriving and I do have to make some more friends - but AND THIS IS A BIG BUT !! do I feel like it right now when I have so much thinking to do and roaming around in my usual drunken fashion. So I have managed to consume 4 bottles of WINE today !! Now that is pretty good going is it NOT. Well NOT for my liver you health freaks out there I KNow NOT FOR MY Fukling Liver. But Its good for the head and I know that you will not deny me that.

So, Pigling Bland, I reality check the situation here in this vast party city and decide to rendezvos with myself at several bars in quick succession. Hip hop and do the trot (and the trotters - know what I mean?) So sampled many a Spanish Toilet Inquisition. Reality Check Numero 2 and what a Numero 2 she was - sat in the corner with her Pedro beside her which di not make me bat an eyelid - as I sidled up all nice like - She did the sly slip and I stumbled but she laughed and what a throaty spanish Cackle that was so that put me off. Anyway to cut my barrage short NOTHING CAME OF IT and I inreased my lung capacity by bellowing in the Road. Reality Check 3 - the Police approched but I could still run and I panted heavily for sevearl minutes. God I wanted to be in a Gondala in Venice or back with Pig make hippies in the hay and playing demonic rock music. Still, I am still alive and rambling in this fair city of Barcelona and alls well that ends well.

Petra contacted me !

Blaaah Blaahhh - Barcelonaaaahhhh Barcelona. Here I am - In Spain - home of Rioja and Tapas and all I have eaten today is Three McDonald Burgers and 4 portions of French Fries washed down with a luke warm beer !! mmmm nice. Well anyway its all that Agnes womans fault. But then this afternoon I got a text on my snazzy motorola from guess who - Yesss its old Petra Peranovitch the Bitch from the dark side - and she is feeling a bit pale and ashen because of the party scene in Rome getting a bit out of hand - you know La Dolce Vita can get a bit wearing in the end and so I have called her in - i.e sent the message over the ether that she ought to really jump on a plane or a train or hitch a ride in some big automobile and get over this way - Head West !! come and join me in the land of the free - No More Franco, No More Mussolini, No more Spaghettior Ravioli - sample the garlic mushrooms my dear. So anyway - she said that she would think about it, but her boyfriend (shockwaves !!) was not in the mood to travel - so I said get over hereon your own - hook up with me and sample the wild life - we can go sown south, sing some duets, piss in the sea and all in time for home and tea. It sounds great dont you think. Spain is the place to unravel and unwind - ahhh ! I can see it now GLORY BE ----- PETRA yeeee haaaa lets ride into the Tequila Sunset on our Steeds of greay and Aubergine. Lets dance flamenco badly. Sample Picasso and eat very late.

A Dump in Spades

I have returned to Marseilles and had a long telephone conversation with Agnes and she told me that I ought to carry on on my own adn find myself. Well I aint lost - oh no sireee. So I have packed my bag and I have travelled on a lon old journey round into Spain by Train. I could see the countryside become a bit more parched and I slated my thirst with copious quantities of Beer. Ahh the lovely nectar. I teamed up with an Australian from Melbourn called Frank and we go along like a house on fire and soon I had forgotton that Hippy nonsense I had fallen into back in the hills and I enjoyed a much more superficial slap on the back kind of laugh with Frank. He could drink some. We limped into Barcelona like a pair of mutton chops and I needed to have a piss which was when the badness happened and I returned into the station concourse to find my bag full of dirty laundry gone and so was Frank. It was bad for a second then I thought good riddance, at least I have my wallet in muy pants. So that was my introdcution to the land of the flameco gypsy and Fortuna. I am based in a small 2 star hotel and ready to have someaction once I have got this bout of food poisoning out of the way - dashing to the loo every 20 or 30 minutes sometimes more - for a quality explosive dump in spades.

The odd rant

Are right then - been some time - been some time - well - I've been a bit lonely - Agnes tripped off to Cannes to do some cooking course and left me high and dry - just for a few days and hazy days they have been in a spewing kind of wretched way - If only I could smell her Lavender perfume and see her remove her support stockings. Dragons and Dungeons occupy my mind and the rants have started again. Fed on Vodka and local red wine the rants have returned to play full force in my brain. Why do they wrap around my cortex like glue sniffers - Do I have to put up with them - are they going to put up shop - will they get smaller and fade away or get bigger and explode out of my head onto a passerby. Will I survive this - well yes of course I will because I am enjoying it and of course the longer I travel around in this myasmic universe of unfulfilled dreams they call Europe then I will be plagued by the old melancholy every now and then and thats not such a bad thing when you come to think of it really - I mean - you can survive the odd slap of depression every now and then relatively unscathed and we do not carry guns.

Romance in Paris coming up I think perhaps maybe

all that stuff with Pig and his extended family seems like a dream now - I thought I was going to be some big Alterno Mega Star at one point there, before reality and spittle flew at me like bowling balls from hell. At least Agnes is still around we have taken to walking in the hills - the beautiful French hills, and running freely from the rain in fits of giggles and staring into each others eyes before downing a solid glurp of the finest red wine in the world. The French are hard to beat and I dont try. The buds of spring are pinging up and although I do need to do some laundry rather urgently - I hink we boh have that feeling of Spring in the air - I have said to Agnes - "Howa bout a trip to gay Paree" and she said yes, So I think I am about to divert myself once again and head for the romantic capital of La Monde. I had a mouth ulcer today but the magical thing is that it went of its own accord in less than 5 hours - some kind of record in my life - and that must mean something do you not think reader. Bob ? are you even reading this ?

Music trip in a Commune

Christ - it seems like I have lived through a whirlwind tornado. Me and Agnes have decamped from our posh hotel and have been living in a commune in the Cevenne. The hills in Provence at the back of Nimes somewhere I think - although I may as well have been blindfolded for all I knew about the journey - (too much Sloe Gin from Albert - but I'll tell you more about him in a moment). Agnes had got a phone call from a girlfriend (well a bit of an old biddy) called Janice - French woman with a lot of makeup - and she said she was coming over to take us to these great people out in the hills. It took hours in her little Renault 4 (about 30 years old I think) and we were squashed in with this Garlic heavy breather Albert who had this 1.5 litre bottle of Sloe Gin which I developed a very aquired taste for. He smoked French lung busters and I indulged at his expense as well - luckily Agnes said she liked the Gallic smells of Smoke and garlic - and Janice said that she had slept with Albert on and off for twentfive years and she had still not got used to it so Agnes is welcome. Agnes winced and then gave me a saucy wink - to say do not worry lover boy. So we rolled up a stoney lane past ruins of old cottages and beautiful streams - to a large stonehouse with lights on around 8pm - I think this was about 4 days ago. Janice banged on the front door and it was opened by a wide eyed hippy with a red silk scarf and baggy clothes, messy curly brown hair and a big joint in his mouth - this was my first sighting of Pig.

We entered in a heap into a room filled with kids, hippy women and two other skinny type guys rolling joints in kind of cowboy gear. We were immediately offered a toke or teo and then I staggered into the back mess of a kitchen and was sick in the sink.

Next day - I woke up next to Agnes with a thumping headache that was rythmically thumping to the beat of a loud jam session going on practically at the foot of my bed - two young artful dodger type boys in raggy clothes and filth (no more than eleven years old) were squeezing out some crazy lcks on electric guitars - Pig was laying some bone crushing Bass down with manic eyes and a joint in his mouth - while one of the more exhuberent chubby mothers was excitedly playing a full kit of drums that I had not noticed in the corner of this old ramshackle sloping room. I was awestruck and ill, gobsmacked and sick, a shambles of a man in a weird situation and running out of ideas on how to survive - I looked to my side and Agnes was'nt there and I managed to get up and tooter in a dance like way to the groove over to the door and peered roun - I was greeted with a lovely sight - Agnes with flowers in her hair (spring comes early round here) and a big cup of coffee. She immediately got up and handed me her cup - she knew I need it more than her - she smiled and I smiled and I wandered back into the room and started amssive (if a bit jerky) primal scream that went so well with the music that they played harder and louder (if that was possible - must have been volume 11) and I started to go primal and belted out in tongues what I think will be the makings of an albums worth of Hippy Nouveau musak a la Zappa and Beefheart - with tinges of the awesome Under Mother Bungalow and their Armchair Astronaut friends. The rest is history - I smoked a gallon of weed and tripped the light fantastic - saw what Pig could see with those crazy eyes and melted each night into the bosom of my Agnes - the tartan slapper with flowers in her hair and large mugs of caffeine. Loud music almost 24 hours a day with me on Primal vocals and a shifting band line up of whoever could hold an instrument and vaguely plug it in or hit it with a stick.

It was FFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!! Great - I was only sick twice more - and it was more like a small retch each time and not in the least bit unpleasant.

I did get kicked out in the end for fighting topo hard with Pig and rolling into one of the kids and disslocating the poor things shoulder. I did manage to squeeze it back into place but the kid was in a lot of pain. Pig got very showy and acted the main man bit which got on my tits. I called Agnes over and made a speech about how we had had a great time and the music had been inspiring but that I felt that Pig had misunderstood my boisterousness and that it was a shame - but one of the women spat at me (I think she was the boys mother) so we turned and left. Janice drove us to the nearest town and we said our goodbyes - she said she was going to stay there for a few months to see if she could work it through with Albert and we wished her luck.

We shacked up in a tiny Hotel d'Or and drank copius amounts of beer (Kronenbourg)