travel log 25.

7th AUGUST

I m getting out of the habit of writing.
Two weeks left before I head back to London.
I learned. A bit more macramé, at Almograve.
The easiness of things.
I have £15, more or less.
Am stranded somewhere between not wanting this to end and looking forward to going back,
At least I can earn quickly.
Lee got in touch. Ouf. Despite it all, i still fancy him.
I told him I had a book for him. Didnt overdo it (I hope)
Matacola. I like this word- and the object.
Charlotte cut my hair last night; I love it.
To shave or not to shave? 4 razorfree months were wonderful.
I should ask Taimur and Tony – its been 3 months since I got in touch with Taimur (sorry)
Planes… god its been so long since I ve been on a plane… the security will freak me out…
Making tarts – makes me laugh
Omelettes.. the playboy writer.. sharing plates..
 Clara – isnt it crazy me and O know the same people?
Nelo arrives Monday to Porto Covo, I d like to disappear to Pessegueiro for a few days. The beautiful rocky beach with the strong tidal pull where we bathed for the hottest part of the day.
Two acid trips, from green blotter (but now everything is indigo)
The bees that zoomed into life at sunset, the constant passage of insects over the sand, the soft focus of the eyes to catch the boats and the whales that must be out there somewhere hidden across the waves to the horizon – the breath of the landscape – the fishermen – the throwing of the days dirt over the cliff, to the sea – the seagulls knocked off their roost by two pink haired girls and their yellow tent – sardinhas assadas – the jungle cactus where tigers hide when stuck in the sand – seathrift – quartz and iron ore veins in the rock, the layers, the arches, the pools that we couldnt get to no matter how close we thought we might be (10 metresd above, probably, and we thought we could drop down) no bingo – no casino – not even for the 3 or 4 nights in Majoilo – just food – although the Luso conversation confuses me a lot – made me cry – maybe i was just premenstrual – the Sixties Bar reappears – Santo Andre where I slept under a tree even though O was staying only a km or two away – oh well, adventures –
Blondie the dog – but then I dyed my hair – Carnation Pink is more like neon – no rollerderby here – did the rabbits make off with the carrot? couscous and coriander. we go somewhere tonight but to be honest i d much rather be lazy and fall asleep – Charlottes multi-coloured toenails –
Do the Trans-Siberian express trains take bicycles ? 200 euro for a cheap seat. Shrek and onions. Patras. I miss my tophat. Then I lost the wicks for the fire show and the staples didnt work. Poo. Rwanda and the Tutse tribe – they pick the leader from who can jump the highest – its not Irish dancing though – 
playing guitar while tripping is difficult but not impossible.
Today, Calvin and Hobbes in Portuguese, but I have no dictionary to properly understand and improve – check the internet – a nice beer in a shady canopy of leaves – Fonte Ferrea – where there will be a foam party soon – sweet vegetables – brewers yeast – how to live off £15 for 2 weeks? I need to busk, but it would be better to do a fireshow, still – no hat, no wicks –
choder. is the Spanish language more aggressive or is it just the people? the Belgian said i spoke Portguese well. I was proud. but I knew it wasnt true. Pesuex. beautiful oil paintings of saxophones.
fly, paper
Darragh says be careful, I dont think he s ever been on a Portuguese road –
I like it here, listening to French, I m still lost though – Lost Girls
muesli yoghurt. apple compote. figs and olives – not ready yet. i m going to miss fig season.
or could i come back?
anything is possible?

8th
stone soup. malagueta. loquats.

9th AUGUST, THURSDAY
north node, south node. leave out the fire breathing last night, and no agony in the garden, bloody thorns, its over, the sloughing, as if it never began.
Charlotte was born on the same day of the year as me, more coincedences, i am stiff and sore, i want more sleep, the heat makes me light-headed, onwards to Porto Covo, morning glory, Pisces postcards, might be some good photos, shots, but non-alcoholic, i drank sparingly but my gut is growing, a wrap on top of my head to hold the amphora of water in place, Mowgli moonchild watching the Siren as she washes the clothes, Provencaux sheets flopping in the finally breeze that blows, its already getting complicated, bicycles on the landing. nerves. the couscous turned out good, something, finally, a lipdance or a lapdance, the rooster is unsettled today, this morning at dawn they were going crazy, where is the dog the dogs are? the circle is the spirit and the cross is the matter, paints for glass, jars, tints and washes, nine waves, the bruise on my big toe growing –

Later –
Chat with Mother made me nervous. She might be right about not being able to take the guitar on the plane. Yikes. And the op is on the 14th, home on the 22nd. I might not be able to get back until the end of that month. I want to work.. told her about the lollipop tin full of cash in the attic, they re in the process of selling off shares which of course doenst sound good. bad luck soup. my brothers Japanese girlfriend. Maruko, Fiona, flats, Romania, fried fish, fire, more tonight maybe I must do something, how confused does that sound?
Jews harp, jaws, a whole orchestra in one mouth, boney bums backsides and front teeth –