The Airportline: Observations

And she said that we were bastards, and that my face looked gay. She continued, claming that also she looked like a bastard. I guess we were a group of bastards, bastards with beer, she had wine. Then she said 'you'll look good in anything' before she claimed that several people at The Prague Post were, fucking, bastards. 'You can't wear orange, you'll look like a bastard' she then told me. She asked us if we wanted to go to Bali with her. We declined the invitation artfully. Well, we said: no. She placed her glas of wine next to the table, making it crash on the stone floor. There was no magic, just a group of bastards, and a broken glass of wine. And we left her in the bar and went out in the Prague night. Old town square was quiet, and old looking. While the bartender cleaned up the shattered glass. Maybe she too was a bastard.

Some people go on holiday and forget about life, war and other bad things. This is fine, and normal. Going to a Communist museum which showed the long battle against the Communists, on streets we were walking on in Prague... (café is playing Timbaland extemely loud, it's very difficult to form conclusive sentences with his beats crashing down on me, Denis is reading a book about Violence, called 'Violence', Ben is Prag Posting towards a deadline)... and then going to a documentary film festival and saw a documentary about the International Criminal Court in The Hague (called The Reckoning, the same title of my now famous leaving Amsterdam in summer of 2007 party), is maybe less normal. We were gonna do some second hand shopping but only found an art deco store with weird lamps. We did eat saussage and drink beer as well though. Today we write 'Andy Warhol' exhibition and 'St Patrick's Day' on the program. But right now it's George Michael and a cappuchino.