The beauty of the encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on a dissecting table

My dreams have been full and ripe lately. Maybe it's because I sleep on a small and uncomfortable bed in a noisy Czech flat, far from anything I know, but, then again, I've heard the R-E-S-P-E-C-T by Aretha 3 days in a row, and in three different places. I ducked into a Cinska Restaurace to get out from under the thumb of this Soviet cold front that's been hitting the CR the last few days, and, in it, was the biggest fish I've ever seen in a tank, with the tank being only marginally bigger than the fish, itself. Maybe it's been too much for the kid, these last few weeks, but I could swear that the fish was turning a queer eye at me, as he bent in two to face the other direction, all without ever being more than a half-handful of inches from the far end of its world. A hoary czech in a tight green apron came out from the kitchen to see who had opened his door, allowing it to slam a little. I held up a finger, and he shrugged, motionioning internationally, to sit wherever the fuck I wanted. I sat by the fish and lit a cigarette to feel a little warmer. The fish seemed to be a little surprised that anyone was in the place, too. I unfolded the paper napkin that formed an adroit little teepee at my place seeting and allowed it to rest, prone. I smoked, and looked at the fish. Then, I smoked, and tried not to look at the fish. It's just that it was such a big fucking fish. The man never reappeared from the kitchen, and, after I stubbed out my smoke, I split. I felt like I should have stolen a bottle of something, just to feel famous. Instead, I ran through the cold, and, upon arriving, stripped off my layers of winter clothes, and settled for feeling like a waitress on vacation.
Like Rimbaud muttered, "It is necessary to be absolutely modern." On the obverse, I'd put my money on Lautremont in a streetfight.


Eye stair threw pains

I'm still having such a problem figuring out my new mobile phone. It seems that I only way I can successfully recharge, is to go to the place I bought it. They close so early, and aren't open on Sunday. KJP is probably flipping out. I'm stressed, and don't even want to worry about it now.
I've got a big test on Monday, and I have to plan a lesson for the advanced class, as well. They all speak better English than half of the teachers in my program. I completely flopped the last time that I had to teach them, so I want this lesson to be good. I'll figure out something.
My roommate Wills and I went out on a seriouis piss seconds after class eneded on Friday. At the end of a long night, a cab driver tried to charge us 3 times what he he should have. We told him to go fuck himself, and gave him 200 crowns, which is more than he desrved. The Czechs will try to fuck you. Count your change. Take the Metro instead of a cab, if you can. Walk, if you need to, but watch out for dogshit.
I've been a slut for Milan Kundera novels since I landed here. They're soooo good. I'm staying in for the night, to plan my lesson and revise for my test. I feel like such a nerd, but I just want to get this certificate, and start actually living here.
Oh yeah, as far as roulette is concerned, if you are chasing a number, do not quit until you catch it. I was down to my last few crowns, and finally, 8 told the kid it loved him veryvery much. Now I know why 8 in Czech is Awesome.

I saw a bunch of Hasids staring at this the other day, while a jazz band played the girl from ipanema in the freezing cold. It's been stuck in my head since then.