May 30, 2002
[2:51 am]

The hand stamp on my right hand lower right palm/beginning thumb looks like… (stamp says “PARTY ZONE”). Had: one Bacardi & coke in 12 oz. can (10% alc. by vol.) after dinner, which was a shitty Big Mac from a schnell stand in Hbf. Also had some water there. Em had what looked like a shitty pizza. Took the S-bahn to endvig or some place like that, S6, and got off at Kuhnst Park Ost. That translates roughly to Art Park something or other and despite repeated attempts to shut this muther down it remains a hot spot for München’s youth. I was doubtless overdressed.
Not that I didn’t blend well enough but I could tell I was overdressed & so I felt like I stuck out. Most people wore jeans and a decent percent were punked out, w/ spiked hair, leather, basic fuck world anarchy attire and I couldn’t help but think, imagine how I appeared to them. If I had worn jeans all would have been good. Still, I looked OK and we followed the crowd to what Em tells me was a former potato processing plant. Spotlights music youth a line for admission 14€.
First went to hard trip place called Deep Space Night (I think) which had alien motif and cool laser lights. Em ordered drinks: Heineken for her, a rum & coke—make that Bacardi & cola for me. We didn’t dance. Music was good but hard. It was our first stop. Got bottle of Pepsi w/ rum but did not drink it all. [3:02 am]
Moved on to Babylon, a more Hip Hop type club. I got another rum & coke which cost I think zieben. I put out six & that didn’t take so I broke a 50€. Drank it & we left soon thereafter. Not our tunes. Then we went to Ultra Schall.
Had an absinthe—not real absinthe but some knock off which Em tells me is just some Greek licorice black liquer called Urzo or something but I took it as a shot & chased w/ Em’s Heineken & was sufficiently souses. We stood behind the DJ booth & watched him work. I kept rinsing mouth w/ Heineken. Watching people on dance floor: strobe light, an arm here an arm there a move a move a move it looked fun crazy I could do that I want to do that a disco ball like in Brook’s picture to me absinthe put me on my ass we went down & found a spot the music shook us I was doing jumpingjacks hopping jumping yipping smooving trooving booving rooving crazy like I’ve never danced before there there there that that that and one and two and three and four and bang bang bang bang boom boom boom boom feelin it feelin it feelin it feelin it see me see me see me watch me watch me watch me with it with it with it fog coming in strobe light movin w/ next next to me gettin down exercise aerobics flailing fluging turging burging hoffen boffen yada ying slang sling yes yes yes can’t see don’t care me me me move move move sweating just dripping workout move move arms legs jumping twisting sliding gliding super diva funk house sweating too much hafta stop sweating strobe fog steam hafta stop too bad mouth dry mouth very dry hair wet hot sweat open up shirt dripping gotta take-a break need water Em is ready & we go up & get water ahh not too ahh sparkling not still. Chill trippy orange & black lines eye candy wish I was on acid and looking at that thing, touch it & it’s real, guy comes up to it amused I say, “Ja,” looks like Cincinnati Bengals colors & logo. We drink our water, split one. Em was probably up for more dancing but I was done. So after we finished the water we left & went to…I think SEVEN. Had walked into chill room makeout room chill during drugs session room looking for way out passed on DOOM rock & metal freak show not quite Berlin’s S&M club passed on Bungee jumping & Russian party’s Enrique Iglesias and would around to Seven, which was place Em visited online & we saw right away but decided to revisit later on. So it was later on.
Maybe 1:45. I was pretty much spend after Ultra Schall but was willing to go w/ Em wherever. So we went to seven & it was small, smaller than we figured, much much smaller than the other places. A dance café really. Music was good but not as good as Ultra Schall. Em got drinks: herself a Heineken, me a rum & coke. As I finished mine she started to dance. Decent dancing here people pretty upbeat but those not dancing—sidelining—stuck out & that was me for a while while I jotted down notes on scrap paper [see scraps]. But once I finished my rum & coke I started dancing & had a good time with it. Danced for 20-25 mins. Got sweaty again. Glad I have short hair now.
[3:27 am]
Told Em I was ready when she was & after a while we left. Took a taxi home & spoke some English to the guy. I’m tired. Dehydrated but drinking some water. Taxi ride home took 12 mins. & cost 13€. Nice guy, the driver. Interested in talking English I think, though I said nothing, two words maybe: touring, sightseeing. When he asked if there were many people in Kunst Park Onst Em said, Ja: Munich’s Biggest Party Zone. Crazy scene. Smoked two cigs. Not so drunk now but somewhat. Ready for a shower. Em took one & now is winding down. Hungry. Had a dinner after burger & a few pringles back here but hungry, yes.
Tomorrow is Corpus Christi Catholic holiday, celebrated & prominent here in München like not too many other places apparently. Maybe some parades. Do some wash tomorrow—anyway hopefully and also Pinotheken somewhat modern art museum. Done for now. Tired. Hope not hungover.
[3:33 am]

[11:05 am]

First I got up at about nine-ten and would have had to make it downstairs before ten to capitalize on the inlcluded breakfast but it didn’t happen. Got back up at eleven when Em goes, “It’s eleven o’clock,” as if she was shocked we had slept that long and I was like, “Yeahhhh….” What do you expect after Munich’s biggest party zone?
So now I’m sittin on our toilet thinking about what we’re doing today. I want to do the café thing AMAP and want to get clothes washing out of the way but that might be tomorrow. Allergies today for real—maybe it’s not just my apt. (Though I have had to take pill less often.)

[2:28 pm]
In the Pinakotheken Neue. Have pretty much passed through most of it. Saw a number of things I liked; of these most were after1850 and especially after 1900. Liked Franz von Stuck’s Kempfeude Faune 1889, two centaurs butting heads. Also a Vouillard. Some sculptures I really liked and the women female form sculptures some of them aroused me I found very beautiful and I cherish the thought of Brook I would kiss her all over if I saw her.
Em & I had lunch at china thai. I had a beef & veggies dish that I pretty much cleaned up. On the way, we stopped in the station for 2 bananas, 2 waters, an espresso (me) and a cappuccino (Em).
Had a very pleasant walk here. Weather at its finest during the trip so far, and disregarding that, perfect for any time. About done here. Will hit gift shop. Bathroom. Think I’ll chill outside Pinakotheken Alte before I meet Em in front of this place at 5p.

At the lawn in back of Pinakotheken Alte, between that and Pinakotheken Neue. I am sitting on a bench in the shade but it’s sunny and I would think nice and warm out on the grass. I have trouble staying comfortable when I sit out on grass but there are a number of people laying out, sitting out, two people at least in bathing suits. A trio of people about my age were tossing a yellow disc around and two of them appeared to be adequately skilled; I didn’t see any forehands however, which leads me to wonder how big is frisbee here. That trio then switched to some kind of underhand standing still silver ball tossing game but now they’re just sitting down in a circle getting ready to pass a spliff—no, I guess they’re just talking.
This looks to be a pretty popular area. There are joggers, walkers, people old and young. Just relaxing. The holiday. Now a group of about five guys is setting up what I assume is a net for volleyball. Could be badminton, I guess. A couple of people, a mother and her son, are kicking a soccer ball. The mother is barefoot. One of the girls tossing a frisbee now has it resting upside-down on her head. A couple of people lying down are probably asleep and I could use a coffee or a nap myself. But for either I have to wait until five.
I could read. I’ve got R. Ford’s Independence Day w/ me and I’m just about halfway through it. I’ve been enjoying it so far. The sun has been more in than out the last ten minutes. The girl who had the frisbee on her head has since removed it and just put on a black sweater. I’m wearing khakis, blue hoody, white t-shirt on under that. Contemplating having a cigarette. This setting has a university feel to it that I rather like. I’m not quite comfortable enough to break out the book & put my nose in it; I’d have to look up too often, and because I have my glasses on, that would hurt my eyes. They have begun a volleyball game. Think I’ll check out the front of this place.
Oh, in the gift shop they had a nice selection of blank books, some of them lined. One brand I particularly like is MOLESKIN(E) and their special touch was a pocket inside the notebook which would be nice. But the books were 16€ & I shyed away from that sticker. I’d like to own one eventually however so maybe I’ll check to see if they have a site on the Internet where I can find them cheaper. Besides, the Europe budget has pretty much been exhausted anyway and I have to start thinking about gifts. [3:17 pm]

[4:15 pm]
After a walk over to the Universität I am back sitting on a bench on the perimeter of the Alte Pinakotheken’s back lawn area. The volleyball match is still a-going.
Found one very nice postie on my walk, on Schellingstrasse. I passed by it at first, it was all crumpled up and I froze a bit because I knew a woman was parked in her car right behind me—the nose of the car jutting out into the sidewalk, me walking around it noting that she can probably do that kind of thing because she was attractive, in a black BMW—but I came to an intersection where I had to stop, said fuckit, went back & picked it up, turned back around, & headed down Schellingstrasse until I got to Ludwigstrasse, which I took north, gandering at the university area a bit and then turning around, coming down Ludwigstrasse south until I hit Theresienstrasse, which I took west and ended up back here. From where I’m sitting I’m closer to the a basketball game on a 1-hoop court than I am to the volleyball game.
[4:20 pm] Time to light up a fatty, Gerhard. No fatty, so a cig instead. Buzz.
Was feeling rather anxious on my walk and thinking about possibility that I have some sort of clinical disorder. The whole find post-it note mindset is exhausting and makes me feel kind of crazy, but really—a great big postie collection could be a momentous achievement. I need to find others working on similar projects and affirm my sanity thereby.
Anyhow, a nice moment I had when I was at corner of Theresien & Barer strasses and a man of about 50 asked a girl on bike a question, directions I guessed to Pinakotheken, which I knew was across the street. She was not able to answer him—I don’t know if she replied in English or what; she had red hair headphones (dyes) and was on a bike. He came over to me which I feared a bit and asked me something in German and at some level I understood what he said though now I could repeat little but the deep meaning—he was indeed wondering about the Pinakotheken. I think he had gotten off of the tram which before I came to a stop at the corner I saw two people run to catch. I said, pointing, Alte (on the left) and Neue (new?) on the right. He was wanting Alte and I confirmed him pointing left to Alte, said ‘Ja’ and I believe he said ‘thank you’ so it must have been clear I was an English speaker.
After a cig I’m wanting to relax, lie down, wanting to take the U-bahn back when I meet up with Em.
So I said, “Uh-huh,” instead of “bittë,” like an idiot I just can’t get that bittë down. [4:32 pm]
Here on bench writing wanting to do some poetry.

My anxiousness is
scouring the Munich streets
looking for crumpled yellow Post-Its

Would like to do a poem describing my anxiousness, saying not just what it is, but saying that by saying what it does. Defined by action.

My anxiousness is
tuning out when a man
in German asks me how
to get to Pinakotheken Alte
and I answer him but
don’t remember how exactly
knowing only that I have
because when I sit down
on a bench outside the Alte
in its yard I see the man
and his wife go into the Alte
and I know that I have helped
him and I have a smoke and
feel good about myself while
I stop and write it all down.

My anxiousness is
someone asking me what
time I’ve got and me
looking at my analog
watch and not being sure
exactly if it’s 4:39 or
4:40—where is the
second hand at and
does it matter—and
saying 4:45 and
wondering maybe if
that’s not specific
enough after all.

My anxiousness is scouring the
streets of Munich looking for
little yellow Post-It notes and
returning to a little crumpled
ball of yellow paper knowing
that when I passed it the first
time I was pretty damn sure it
was a Post-It note but a
beautiful woman in a Beamer
was sitting right there watching
and certainly would have wondered
what in the hell I was doing.

My anxiousness is
not quite knowing
what to wear to Kunst
Park Ost—Munich’s
Biggest Party Zone—splurging
on two shirts and some
going out pants so I’ll
feel like I’m fitting in
but realizing later,
overdressed & sticking out,
that the clothes I had
were fine and much less expensive.

Some déjà vu there. Lots of déjà vu, maybe 100 times more than usual while I’ve been here and I’ve got to wonder why. I’m agnostic but struck at times with this sensation—it’s like the tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon but for more than a single word—that there’s something I’m about to remember, or envision and I had this feeling at home a few times feeling it most strongly when I watched European soccer or Australian rugby on digital cable Fox Sports World and also feeling it when playing foosball and I don’t know where it comes from it’s like a place or/and time I’ve been in the past or maybe will be in in the future and I don’t know how to describe it but I’ve been feeling it much more here it has something to do with childhood and maybe a youth camp I was at the Stiritzes might be involved somehow playing with clay, or play-doh, green, and making some joke about dinosaur turds felt it when I looked out at the landscape from the train in the new–modern futuristic buildings of Amsterdam in windmills in small cars some gnostic quality to it which might be nothing and doesn’t have to be anything to at least be curious, to make me wonder & give me something to write about to feel important about some brand of hierophany like Oedipa Maas feels when she drives down into & sees the valley open before her for the first time it may be connected though not directly to LSD or mushrooms and if I did some entheogen here I would be really interested to find out what would happen with it but that won’t be this time around. It’s a theme to meditate upon no doubt to see if I can uncover it in myself or maybe it’s something I just have to experience, accrue over time.
[4:58 pm]
Time to meet Em. Oh, the fourth floor reading room in WU library is very this feeling, viewed through windows on the fifth floor.

[10:32 pm]
Em tells me that I haven’t been writing in my journal today. I say, “How the hell do you know?”
Been somewhat busy anyway. After Pinakotheken Em & I took the U-bahn from Therienstrasse to the Hauptbonhauf. Got off there and went to the Internet Café Times Square (in the Hbf) and got online for a while. I stayed on for about 45 mins. & it cost me 5€. Em didn’t stay on as long & sat and had a cocktail as I finished checking mail, writing mail, surfing web, tooling around with the fantasy teame.
I had gotten new e-mail from Jeff Underwood who said he now realized, after looking back at old e-mail, that I was in Germany. He responded a bit to the Hierophany I sent him, said he liked it & was still going to deliver some more detailed feedback. I wrote back to him responding mainly to his proposition in a prior e-mail that we hit Chicago the weekend of 5-year IMSA high school reunion. I said put me down for a maybe at this point I maybe have plans with Eric Peters that weekend cause we’ve talked about hanging together but I really don’t know.
Anyhow, I’d love to spend some time in Chicago w/ Jeff but I can’t commit to a 2-night hotel reservation at this point. So I’ve got to get back to him when I return to the U.S. next week, depending on how he responds to my response. Like me, Jeff is given to reading in to things & I don’t know what he’ll make of my non-response. That said, I don’t know anyone from the IMSA crew that I’d rather tour the Chicago Museum and dancing scene with. Too much time together, however, could be a risk.
E-mailed Brook a couple of times. She is off to Detroit to visit her sister—a trip she booked, then maybe wasn’t going to go on after having a little spat with her sister about Brook’s maybe/maybe not attitude toward Star’s husband, Graham, in the past. But she’s there by now I suppose and I’ve decided it’s very possible that I’m in love with her & ready for a long-term commitment. But these feelings are coming out of the blue a bit (they’ve been around for the last five days or so) and I don’t know whether they can be attributed to a homesickness as well as a horniness that is having a hard time being consummated by any means around here. Though, I have often thought about what this trip would be like if it was me and Brook on it, each a couple years older and wiser. I think it would be fantastic and I can see that Brook is as good a lady friend, companion, lover as I could ask for despite the fact that she is a self-proclaimed non-activist, and believes that my scrap collecting is pretty much aimless, just a personal quirk of mine, and in no way destined to be the chassis of a major modern art masterpiece. I love her anyway and won’t ask her to take LSD to see what I’m talking about because maybe the balance we provide each other will keep us interested. She has been taking care of my plants; ate some pot brownies one day, had a good time but felt a little ill the next day. She’s completely moved out of her apt. She’s picking me up next Tuesday night. She got my mail because my mailbox was getting full. She misses me, she says, of course. I would worship her if she were here.
Got another message from Ray and he seems to be doing alright, sounds content. Said Nick Adams left St. Louis the other day. I’m glad Nick & I had lunch the day before I left. I told Ray that The Loop sounded like a good place to be right now. Said my trip was winding down. Told him there were many blond babies here. Didn’t want to be effusive about the trip because he doesn’t go for that shit and I don’t either. So I kept it somewhat brief and wrote that I had imagined what kind of time he & I would have on this trip—a fun exercise for me I guess, with each of my loved ones—said I thought we’d have a good time, with a good mix of chill time & active time.

[10:59 pm]

Em just kicked me out of the room with the desk so she could turn the light off and go to sleep. Unbelievable. So I am in the bathroom now, on the closed toilet, leaning over to my left, with the notebook on a little extended windowsill. It’s not so bad in here, actually. I’ve brought my watch & water. There is more light in here & my eyes won’t get tired as fast.

It was a bit of an intimate thing for me to say to Ray; I’m not usually very forthcoming sometimes with commenting on the emotional stock of our relationship, so I’ll see if he sees this last line of my e-mail as unusual but nice & chooses to respond to it in some way. We would have a nice time here. He would help me keep my anxiety down & we’d allow each other plenty of space & he’d be real good and not diffident at all with the language and the people. Plus the fun we could’ve had in Amsterdam—damn.
E-mailed Eric Peters after all of those e-mails & had to keep it very brief. Said hello said I was having a good time, said I’d give him more detail later, said we should talk about getting together toward reunion time. June will be a busy-ass month for me. I’m looking very forward to him and having a bare-as-bones discussion about our respective psychic atmospheres and the border between sanity and not, if there is such a thing, and where clinical diagnosis fits in there. I think the drugs fucked him up and I think he is feeling hurt right now & maybe feeling worse than he has to and I want to see him and hug him and tell him how much I care about him and love him. He’ll bounce back; we always do.
Also checked out BBC news and big thing seems to be swelling animosity between Pakistan & India, something about Musharraf moving troops from the Afghanistan border to the India border so we’ll see what happens with that.
Surfed to ESPN.com and checked out the fantasy situation. My attempt to claim Livan Hernandez from waivers was successful (I dropped Todd Ritchie). I also picked up Brian Lawrence and dropped Kris Benson, who’s been getting shelled and maybe doesn’t have the arm strength to dominate again quite yet. He’s probably due some bullpen time a la Matt Morris. So, for starters I’ve got: Randy Johnson, Ryan Dempster, Hideo Nomo, Ted Lilly, Livan Hernandez, and Brian Lawrence and I’m pretty happy with that. What I need to address is my offense, which is completely sputtering. Pudge began rehab however, and if I could get him back I’d be lookin good. Still, I may need to trade and get some offense.
So, Em and I left Times Square after I paid. The guy said “funf” and I said “numer sekhs” and he repeated himself “funf,” so I gave him five euro. Kind of funny.
We ate in the station. Pigged out really. I had: turkey ciabatta, fries w/ ketchup, then a Topflenstruedel which was a really good kind of cheesecake w/ raisins in it. More lovely ordering schwip-schwaps. We finished eating, came back. I fucked around doing I don’t know what, eventually reading but after I finished the first page Em was like OK, let’s go. I was organizing some scraps & receipts. I found another postie—I think a French one!—after meeting Em on Pinakotheken steps at five. And I looked at today’s Drawing From Brook, and it’s me, “John R” w/ a backpack on, hat on, looking kind of funny but cute in the way Brook must think I’m cute and I like it but don’t want to flatter myself too much. There’s a better little man drawing coming up ( I could see through the back of one of the folded-up ones I haven’t yet gotten to, though I don’t know what day it’s for). I also spent time organising which clothes I was going to take to the laundry.
Em & I walked to the laundromat.

[11:35 pm]
I just stood up, took a piss, and jerked off. These bathroom jerk-off sessions have resulted in nothing but second-rate orgasms that aren’t very memorable. Can’t remember the last time I jerked off standing up not counting the masturbation session in the Amsterdam shower the…second?…day I was here. It seems like I can’t even remember back that far. One thing, though, is that I’ve been thinking about Brook while I’ve been masturbating on this trip—the count now is maybe five, maybe six.
So there’s plenty to say about the laundromat because I was rather enamored by the whole process and atmosphere. But maybe this should wait until tomorrow morning because I’m tired. Don’t think I’ll forget too much. If special interest was the attendant there & the hawkish watch he kept over the proceedings, just barely keeping from impinging on others’ privacy but also doing an excellent job facilitating, moving things along, making sure people didn’t fuck up. [11:45p] He was 44, 45 maybe. Looked tired but not unhappy. Bleary-eyed, but kind, patient. Helpful. It seemed like I would or could feel sorry for him but didn’t because, as I said, he was not unhappy—probably could have used an interlocutor—and he was damn good and efficient at his job. A competent spoke in a spinning, progressing, transporting wheel and despite the fact that he was a laundromat attendant he was able to take some pride in his job and not have to resent the patrons of the laundromat in return. All for now. To bed. [11:47 p]

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