Elina and Julia are always telling strangers, unprompted:

“Ryan is a reclusive insomniac who lives in the perpetual vampiric twilight of his gloomy apartment. He never goes outside.”

They’re wrong.

. . . I’m out here!!

i have never seen my phone camera glitch like this before . . . i guess left-handed bex has the gift

in fact, i know she does . . .

IT WENT LIKE THIS . . .

Polish Nicole was in Italy at the exact same time as me, but we didn’t end up crossing paths this time around. Perhaps the Father had not willed it so . . . but I’m not worried. I’ll see her again soon . . . in Poland!

Yesterday we were talking about our respective Italian Experiences. We discussed how the Italians seem to orient their entire lives around food and eating. She said:

. . . to which I said:

A little while later, I was talking to Italian Nicole. I told her about Polish Nicole’s trip. I mentioned the whole “Italians eat late and Polish moms hate it!” thing. She said:

I told her what I had told Polish Nicole: that I’m even worse than the Spaniards about that shit . . . I’m completely insane and I eat dinner at midnight, like an insane person. She was rightfully aghast.

Not long after, right on schedule, an honest-to-God Spaniard hit me up . . . it was none other than my good friend Tombo. We were supposed to have a long phone call about the movie we’re filming together in October:

The son of a bitch was eating dinner at 10:16 p.m. in England! Just like a true Spaniard. I showed him what Both Nicoles had said to TIE IT ALL TOGETHER:

Sorry Italian Nicole and Polish Moms: It DOES just feel right! It is a beautiful feeling . . .

So there you have it: the eating habits of the Poles, the Italians, the Spaniards, and whatever species of FREAK I am. Hah!

I’ll be at Bex’s show in London next month if you’re around and want to hang out with me . . . and won’t feel too jealous that I, a celebrity, will be on the guest list and you won’t . . .

I just discovered this drafted post, which contained nothing other than these six photos. Apparently I took them on July 29th while walking around Berlin during the full moon . . . I was out there soaking it up because that’s what a MIDNIGHT FREAK like me was designed to do. Or didn’t you know?

Speaking of drafts . . . I have five Big Ones I need to finish:

• STATE OF THE STARSAILOR
• SHADOW OF THE PROTECTOR
• “EVERYONE’S BOYFRIEND”
• I COME TO TALLINN
• THE ANGELS OF ITALY

Those are not what the actual final titles are going to be . . . but that’s how I have them tagged in here in order to Remember. In this business, Remembering is everything.

The first essay is nearly done, as is the Tallinn post. The rest are, as usual, already finished in my mind. The essay about my visiting Italy with three of God’s favorite little angels is the one I’m going to wake up tomorrow and work on until it is finished, even if it takes me all day. That one will be easy to write because I’m very excited to write it.

Last month I had told Nicole the Polish Girl quite melodramatically:

. . . and I think it may have worked. Behold: I am saved. Or anyway, I am for now. Who’s to say how I’ll feel next week, or even tomorrow afternoon. I’ll deal with that later . . .

Though yeah: the writing will come easily on account of my gladness at being saved by the journey itself. What is going to consume a lot of my time is the fact that we, the Angels of Italy, have a shared album containing nearly 800 pictures taken during that glorious holiday weekend:

Being famous is a full-time job. It involves being photographed a lot. Now imagine four famous people traveling together through Italy and Switzerland over the course of four days. There’s no getting around it: you’re going to end up with 800 pictures of the thing.

I need to narrow down that number to something like 30 or 40 to fit inside my little essay. The problem is that nearly all of them are good enough to hang on the wall. And it’s not just that: I am positive I will be intoxicated by their memory, such is its potency. I’m going to sit there and think, “Look at us. We’re so beautiful and sweet, and perfect.” This could take hours. I can’t wait . . .

For now I will leave you with this:

Wow! We’re so cute. You Jamal fans may be wondering: “Where is Jamal?” Jamal was out to lunch, man. That’s what he does. I’ll explain more in the essay itself. So help me GOD, I will post that essay about Italy by the end of the day tomorrow. I have to. Why? Because it’s my job to do such things . . . and, if I’m being honest, in some abstract way, my life depends on it. It is my life. After all: if a Starsailor Tale does not appear on starsailor dot co, told in a way only I am capable of telling it (for good or ill), can it really be said to have even happened . . . ?

Sweet dreams!! ☆彡

see you in a few weeks :,-)