i seriously need to be reminded,
but someone,
esp. myself, or by some hidden
barometer lodged in my body...
when November comes shyly...
when it's a bad idea to actually walk
into the night, wearing nothing more
than a t-shirt
        and a shirt...
              well... there's existential
medicating, but then there's the boring
medication...
in the past 48 hours i've had one hour's
sleep...
  snorting snoot,
   harking phlegm...
coughing until i'm all panic in the eyes...
unable to catch a breath...
being woken up by actually coughing...
sitting through half the day
in a darkened room,
   watching horror movies and...
   cold sweats roaming all over my body...
i know, mediocre *******...
    ****... i have to remind my Turkish
barber to not trim my beard,
so it can grow to a length that covers
my entire neck...
   telling him: i'm heading to Poland
in a month, i need a cover...
  so i can take a less woolen scarf...
     always a pleasure, leaving the madness
of the anglophone world...
        it's like a mental holiday...
always is... i subtly forget my knowledge
of the English language,
i immerse myself in the mother tongue...
read a book in the ****** tongue,
listening to the radio and the t.v. in
the ****** tongue...
     and speak not a single word of English...
god... it varies from year to year:
sometimes i'm quasi-phobic "thinking"
that i'll forget my diacritical learning...
but then sometimes...
i just let go...
             i feed into the whole:
as if i've never had any knowledge of English...
and suddenly...
the world becomes less whole and more
local...
                 there's no perpetuation
of the insomnia of the passing of information...
no one in the vicinity talks about
120 characters...
               to be honest?
if you want to experience a real holiday?
you don't need exotic beaches,
cocktails and: the sort of heart akin
to the heat of Kenya that exhausts the body
and irritates the mind...
   always finding shade is no fun...
i found the real holiday sense of time
is to be in close association with the elderly...
for all our differences...
the elderly ask only for the remains of
their life, to be filled with simple pleasures...
a coffee in the morning
   and a crossword puzzle...
               sitting on the balcony and looking
absorbed (but rather... busily attempting
to slow down time)...
       and i among them...
can forget a language... for a month...
            it's bliss...
                          i sometimes even come
to the conclusion:
     better if i had never learned English
to begin with;
                    since the current list of concerns
i have for its applicability are...
well...                    sour goes well with sweet,
salty goes well with sweet...
         but bitter?
             bitter can't be coupled with anything
other than a ****** expression
worth the cringe... or some medicinal liquid.