14 january 2005

I got home ten minutes ago from five hours in a bar with a South African, a Russian (from Kazakstan), a Hungarian (who grew up in Transylvania), and a Peruvian. Then a Polish boy walked me home. Between the six of us there were approximately fifteen languages. Of course, I could have left and that would have remained true. Fucking Americans.

I am sitting at my computer about to write about it all, but a guy just popped his head in and said they’re having beers down the hall. So.