The greasy eyelids of travel.

I worked at the Benetton store in the morning, and by worked I mean stood there uselessly, looking like I would be able to answer your question but not being able to do so with words if said question was in Italian. Plus if people at a store are anything like me they don’t want anyone to talk to them and feel awkward having someone watch them. It reminded me of every job I’ve ever had and I hated it. I thought about how much I hate capitalism and how this kind of nearly functionless servitude is a waste of human life and potential.

I took a long lunch break.

There are vegan restaurants in Milan. I had an organic 5 cereal beer with my giant burger and fries. It was sunny and quiet. I went to a vintage store and tried on leather pants that fit me perfectly and looked really hot, laughed at myself, and left.

Walking home, eating a frutti di bosco popsicle, succumbing to my tragic hangover, taking a nap.


Waking up to friends around, going to dinner, reservations for 25. Everyone super tired, as if we had all been spending our endless-waking deep in drinks.


Hon ordering in Cantonese for everyone. A really good meal! A really long meal. A few cigarette breaks with Kenzi and his friend from Spain or something.

In Arizona in 2000 everyone sings along with Italo-disco, apparently. Sam’s birthday and everyone dancing like crazy.


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