The Russian Girl did not end up killing me the other night, but she did take this picture of me next to a lake in Grunewald. She also gave me a Marlboro Red, which I smoked out of my little plastic Hunter S. Thompson filter I always keep in my right breast pocket for some reason. (The reason is that I’m an embarrassing loser.)

Something happened to me about two hours later. It happened entirely in my mind. I was sitting with The Russian Girl in a park in Charlottenberg, and I felt what you might call ego death, even though I was stone-cold sober. It was a horrible feeling . . . like an absolute loathing or revulsion for everything. Some French philosophers might call this THE NAUSEA. Anyway, I’m still trying to figure out how to explain exactly what it is I felt, but I didn’t like it so much. It’s been difficult for me to really do anything since then to be honest. Which is to say I’m still feeling the hangover effect of it. I’m so exhausted and sad. I wonder what you’re supposed to do about that when everything else stops working . . .

I saw a Swedish girl on T*nder last night. Her bio was in Swedish, so I translated it:

Gotta say . . . that rules lol

just the other day i quoted ‘the book of laughter and forgetting’ here . . . and then two days later milan kundera died. i liked that guy. i’ll quote him again:

She wants to have her notebooks so that the flimsy framework of events, as she has constructed them in her school notebook, will be provided with walls and become a house she can live in. Because if the tottering structure of her memories collapses like a clumsily pitched tent, all that Tamina will be left with is the present, that invisible point, that nothingness moving slowly toward death.

rest in peace

In one hour I am going to take the S-Bahn south from Schöneberg to Grunewald (literally “Green Forest”), which is a massive forested area on the outer rim of Berlin, to meet a Russian Girl there. I am to meet her outside a weird little restaurant / bar within Grunewald, where we’ll shotgun a few beers or whatever, and then get to walking. I told her I’m down to walk five miles (eight kilometers (lol)) AT MINIMUM, as I consider anything less than that to be a Baby Walk. She said, “да” and I said, “YeeeaaahhhhhhHHHH duuudddeeEEEE!”

So we’re gonna do it. It is imminent. All I need to do is brush my teeth and then I’m out the door.

Am I going to bring some of the edibles I received in a package from California yesterday? CAN this girl be trusted? Find out next week at my funeral!!

We had BATMAN RETURNS on VHS when I was a kid. It came out when I was five years old. And I remember confiding in my older sister that I thought Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman was a total babe. She told everyone in my family and teased me about it. I didn’t care. I was also right.

Anyway, I rewatched it again for the first time in a long time, and lord have mercy:

What I want to say is that in remembering that Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman was my first crush, I suddenly made a lot more sense TO myself. It explained a lot about the subsequent thirty years of my life. I guess you can figure out what that means if you really want to, though I ain’t gonna spoil it.

But yeah, weird kinky bipolar Catwoman who puts a live bird in her mouth is the best Catwoman. OK?