Heard you bastards in America got a new "Star Trek" film or whatever. Not that I care. Expecting me to give a shit? I got Wikipedia, I got Fruity Loops, I got wine so cheap you'd have to have that knife that can slice pennies in half in order to buy it, I don't need nothing you shitheads are offering.
I am an artiste. Suck it.
I'm gonna write a rock-opera about Walt Whitman. I'll show you America.
God, I'm drunk.

The attempts on my life by the Foreign Affairs Office grow increasingly predictable. Just yesterday, my assigned official offered me a cup of a soup, and then stabbed me repeatedly in the neck.
As anyone who's ever even glimpsed a pamphlet concerning the races knows, the musculature of a Han Chinese is simply too weak around the wrists to cause any real damage to one of Nordic descent. We had quite a laugh about it afterward, and I joked that if they didn't get any new additions to their library soon, at least they would bore me to death!
Well, I laughed.

Received care package from Flevins, Fay, and Ffuhrmeister. Package contained:

one (1) half-deck of playing cards, Jokers removed and replaced with Green and Red Mana from a Magic: The
Gathering booster pack
two (2) labels peeled from bottles of Boone's Farm, the writing of which inexplicably seems to be Dutch
one (1) "crazy" straw, heavily patched together with scotch tape.
S
pent several hours attempting to unravel mystery of why my friends would send me such a random assortment of tchotskies when I clearly requested fresh Moleskins and perhaps a concert recording of "Astral Weeks." Was convinced it was an elaborate rebus, until I fortuitously remembered that my friends are retarded.

Apparently drank lighter fluid. No longer know German.

Wrote original song about the under-appreciated comic genius of Paul Rudd. In German.

Read Rilke in the original German.

Decided to teach myself German.

Awoke with port-flecked lips to sun rising over Ala'er like the incandescent pupil of a half-drunk god. Dumbstruck, I searched for words, but did not have them. Perhaps no one did.
Eyes welling with tears, I realized that it did not matter. No stanza, no photograph, no oils on canvas are worth a good goddamn without someone to share in the moment that inspires them. Our lives are only worth living together.
Friends and family, I love you all.


April Fools! Read Ovid in my boxers while sipping a reasonable facsimile of paint thinner. Thought of writing poetry, but feel asleep with my face on a shoe.
Oh man, I totally got you guys so bad.

Awoke to throbbing feeling of helplessness in uncaring universe, punctuated by vomit. Regurgitated something that could only charitably be described as Crab Rangoon and bits of a wooden stick I had used in the creation of a popsickle made of wine. Decided to spend rest of day listening to Bridge Over Troubled Water and staring intensely at paintings.

Returned from particularly eventful washroom incident to find laptop surrounded by giggling 19-year olds. Waved arms and produced loud noises as if they were overly industrious birds. The affair lasted around a minute, but the damage to my reputation will last a lifetime.

HELO HELO YES <("")>
AMERICAN

Attempted to communicate relevant points of postcolonial theory to a peasant who believed that Michael Jordan was the current American President. Gave up halfway through and started muttering obscenities to myself. This discrepancy went unnoticed by my audience.

Was jolted awake by an image of my childhood: I rode a merry-go-round, clinging to the plaster as I grew increasingly terrified of my father's laughing, mustachioed visage. Attempted to write this down in my Moleskine, but found myself unconsciously sketching portraits of faceless naked women. Will determine appropriate punishment later today.

I realize now that I've left my window open. Ruminated on how this will bother me for six months. This trip is doomed from the start.

A man has already attempted to sell me a watch, though I clearly do not need one. I felt sick to my stomach and shielded my eyes until he left. I will never trust again.

Arrived in China. Shirtless man with complex stringed instrument greeted me with folk song about loss, farming. I feel as if I've come home.