18 hours spent in bed and I'm still tired. My pores and stomach are full, but I haven't eaten anything in months. My arms feel cold but the small of my back is wet, it sticks to my sheets, it bleaches my hair.  My feet, always dirty, try to escape the confines of my bed to breathe the hot air. All I do is yawn, my eyes perpetually watering, and remember, and dream. 

I remember how we went up to the mountains one day and had breakfast with all the kings of America. I remember your nipples sharp against the cold air dancing in front of my camera. I remember one-sided conversations. I make vague plans to write you a letter you will never ever receive. And, if you ever do, please throw it away. 

TELEVANDALIST makes the best gifs

I dream about the impending carnival and the mistakes I surely made at work. I dream about sleeping some more. I dream about my friends who are so far away, their red hair beacons from not that far away... but my voice breaks and she can't hear me. She's gone before she knows I'm here. Desperate teeth, a chance of survival quickly goes down the drain with a sigh and another yawn. Whatever. 

There's a well-known story around these parts by Horacio Quiroga about a woman who slowly dies immediately after she gets married. She becomes ill during her wedding night and slowly wastes away. It is later discovered a parasite lived in her pillow, the new pillow her new husband had given her for their wedding, and sucked her dry. It's a nice horror-y magical story and you should read it. But I'm like her. I'm Alicia and her parasite. Except I don't have a husband, or a new pillow, but something somewhere is sucking me dry. And I let it be. 

Things I Have Not Done Lately Because I Was Too Sleepy:
Brushed my teeth
Taken my contacts out
Painted my nails
Woken up on time - ever
Read anything
Watched TV
Watched films
Gone to the beach
Cleaned *anything*

The only thing I HAVE done is gone to work. For 6 hours, every day this January, I have pretended to be a functioning member of society. My work is pretty easy, so I finish every day around 1 and then stare at the wall for hours, trying to not fall asleep. I have no idea if what I have is a deep deep depression so deep I'm too sleepy to cry about it or I'm actually sick, but what I am is fucking over it. I rather be manic and self-destructive than this shit. I can't even cry over it, I feel close to nothing. So, someone trigger me please. 



french people doing crazy things

I have a friend who owns a hostel. It is called Buen Camino, and I have met some really cool people since the hostel opened up, since we seem to be there almost every day. We chill with guests all the time, take them out, give them a taste of Uruguayan culture. Honestly, if you don't have a friend with a hostel, seriously consider getting one. And, if you ever come to Uruguay, that is where you will stay. Breakfast included!

I miss America

Anyway, last week, I met two travelers, Steven and Sarah, who, contrary to what their names may suggest, are French. Steven is doing this project/lifestyle where he travels around the world with no baggage (no backpack, no suitcases, nothing but the clothes on his back), no airplanes (he came to America on a boat--- how very colonial of him), and no hostels/hotels  (he sleeps outside, via couchsurfing, or with random people he meets in the streets). Sarah was with him doing a leg of his journey, which he started in June. He will continue by BUS to San Francisco, then another boat to Australia, from there to Asia, India to Africa, and then back home. 

It took Steven 40 days to get from Paris to Rio de Janeiro on a three-person boat. He has slept out in the jungle in the Amazons. He is a photographer (you can see his amazing stuff HERE), one of those who get real close to people as if in a trance. He and Sarah are two of the coolest people I have ever met and I am so excited to go back to France (hopefully) so I could potentially hang out with them. 

When Steven told his story to a group of us, I think I was the most blown away. Probably because I had the least travel experience within that group (which says a lot), but mostly I can't understand these first-world babies giving all of their comforts up. Since I grew up (and still am) pretty poor, traveling for me is a dream. For them, it's a necessity. Something so unsatisfying is going on in their lives that they need to give everythging up and come visit us. And, like, all we want to do is go over there and experience some sort of mind-luxury. I'm not saying big hotels and first class, I'm talking about some intellectual luxury.
I am so fed up with Uruguay... I can hardly find any people to talk to, I have been looking, too. And in the past three weeks, I have been close to violence more then I would care for. Three times, me or someone who was with me has been assaulted or robbed. It's bullshit and it's ridiculous and I don't want to be around that kind of violence anymore. 

My mother tells me vioence happens everywhere, but it's so tangible here. It's not like it used to. I'm afraid to walk anywhee, and my taxi budget is growing constantly.
So, Europe, you may be all sorts of fucked up, but expect me there soonish.

In other news, I died the tips of my hair pink!