deep in the velvet haze...the low points of travel.

Its bone cold, I haven't spoken in two days, Im wandering the labrynthine streets of Praha alone. I have reached some kind of alternate universe of desolation. I went to some freak show art exhibit, had enough, and now Im sitting inside the worlds most gaudy gold encrusted church because I have nothing better to do. I am tired of only having a peice of shit sharpie to draw with, I miss sitting at my work table and having everything there in front of me, a buffet of materials waiting for my abuse. But all for naught because my artistic intuition is shot to hell. I miss talking on a fucking cell phone and driving a car, and having a place that belongs to me, not some strangers bunk bed. The end of this trip is some foggy finish line I have to live long enough to cross, a countdown until I can collapse in a heap and think about all this shit I am so oversaturated with. On the bright side the kraut is amazing and the beer is cheap and my pants are clean for the first time in a month, not to mention my roomie has a wellspring of xanax they are more than willing to share. And it is still strange and mysterious that I am here, or that I am alive at all. Ok there, Im done...