Marlon Brando died last night. he was eighty years old, so good for him. nothing to mourn there. just celebrate the man and the legend. He was one of the Beatles; that's for sure.

When reading about the Brando antics over the last twenty or thirty years, just some crazy stuff, one wonders... is that going to be inevitable for us? to get that loony and over the top in our own lives. Of course I'm thinking this in this Cuban bar. It’s a Friday night. the place is packed with partiers taking in the end of the week. large groups of smiling nine to five faces. But me I'm not nine to five. So Friday doesn’t mean as much when you're working around the clock, making your own hours. ALWAYS making it happen, rather than just punching a clock for another paycheck. I've had both. they both have their plusses and minuses. But I digress. So I'm alone and sitting at this little table drinking mojitos, smoking Cuban cigars, and typing on my laptop. Just me and the laptop. People must think I'm fucking mad. Who is that freak over there typing away with that cigar dangling out of his mouth? [The waitresses here are all ugly. I will have to drink a lot to see outer beauty in them. although I'm sure they are very nice.]

After hearing of Brando’s passing, I am thinking to myself, and not revealing it to anyone, ‘am I already insane? ‘Brando insane? Perhaps I just don't know it yet. already displaying many of the sociopathic, hermitic qualities.’’ The truth is that we were supposed to be on tour in Europe by now. So this is borrowed time. I had no plans for tonight. figured I would be in the UK. So here I sit in a bar smoking and drinking and typing madly. In a crowded bar but somehow completely isolated from the rest of the patrons. Rattling off a few one-liners. Week’s worth of crap floating around up there. feels good to let the week out, even if it is entirely imaginary. [did you know that the days of the week Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday come from the Druid names of gods? Yes, still studying Great Britain history.]

I'm off to some remote location tomorrow. I have no idea where. I will log on. Book a flight to somewhere and take off for the weekend by myself. Just get the hell out of dodge to do some exploring. I can’t be sure but I get the feeling that I cannot be here for the fourth of July. with everything going on in America right now, it just doesn’t feel right. the cheapest foreign locale is where I'm headed. Anywhere but America.

O.k. so where were we? It is hot as hell in Miami Beach these days. I've seen it clocked at a hundred and four the past few days. soaking wet hot. But I'm not a writer and I will not waste my time attempting to write about things like the weather. On with the real story.

Girls popping up everywhere. everyday a new girl coming in. And me, I'm left with the options: Play the game or hold out for number one. number one feels close now. really close. Girls just coming from everywhere. which is a good sign. I take that mean that she is close. ??? what do I mean by that? not sure.
As I get closer and closer to being the real me, being in the zone, the flow, I feel this heightened sense of confidence and happiness. It is a good feeling. It is what it is all about. There is a confidence that can be described in no other way than pure magic that comes from being purely wholly and unabashedly real and honest.

I received a letter of interest today from Istanbul:

Hi Fishy,

How are you? I suppose you are preparing your European tour nowadays. Are you exciting?
Nowadays I am angry and the event that makes me unhappy is;
One month ago Turkey's prime minister and his wife visited your country. When I were
watching them on TV, I felt uncomfortable that she was being clothed as Arapian women. Normally I have never interested with other persons' clothes. However here the matter is quiet different. Because she was standing with her husband at the front of the cameras by saying as 'I am Turkish Woman and all women in my country are wearing like me'.
Yes Turkey is a country whose religion is Islam. But it does not mean that all Turkish
women are wearing as Arapian women. Also there is a fact that pursuant to Turkish Laws, she are not able to work at public services, to get education at state schools, even to become private member in council and there are also so many activities that she are not able to do or to participate since she is being covered. The conditions of these women  seem to be very dramatic .I used to worry about them but today I know that their
belief based on fearing to all men and serving their selves from all men by covering their
bodies completely. Therefore whenever I run across one of them in the city I want to
scream that please put off your clothes, you are firstly human than you are women or mother or wife .What I can do ! Therefore I am so angry.
Sincerely,
Sienna

Still ravenously studying the history of Great Britain. Absolutely fascinating. Tying all the pieces together. Robert Bruce, Cromwell, Magna Carta, Tudor, Sussex, Henry the eighth, etc.

In the post office today. seriously. I'm not kidding. I was really in there. amazing. their stamp vending machines don't accept credit cards. Such a weird state of transition American is in. There is this huge ‘use credit cards’ thing happening here and yet a lot of governmental offices, such as the police departments, don't accept them. its just crazy. the last few days I have had to pretend I am on a reality TV show in order to make it through without going crazy. I just pretend that there are many contestants going through the same challenges and the same circumstances and there are cameras on all of us. so instead of losing my cool when something crazy happens, I just play it totally cool and make it work for the best. Fun. better than allowing yourself to be dragged down.

I see this woman in line at the post office ---- did you know that you can’t just go up and say I need $1.06 worth of stamps/postage there? they have to try to come up with all these different ways of trying to get you that exact amount rather than printing out the postage automatically for you. (I mean, they will do that for one piece of mail for you, but not for many. They give you thousands of stamps and make you stick them on each piece of mail you are sending. I just looked at the lady with eyes wide open and commented “2004?” and she looks back at me with this tired weary look on her face and says “I know,” like ‘;what am I supposed to do? I just work here...’ crazy. and if you want to send something ‘certified’ you have to actually go to the post office. fucking unbelievable. In this day and age. Having to go somewhere in physical space-time to get something done. How totally last century.

Anyway, so this lady in line has this mole on her face... and it makes me think of what her husband must be like. And I imagined myself at this barbeque and the two of them walking up to talk to me. and I felt so sick. Whenever I think of the mainstream I get this really sick panicky feeling. Almost like claustrophobia. No. definitely like claustrophobia.

Yesterday this guy invites me to an Independence Day barbeque for the weekend, and I had forgotten that it was Fourth of July because we were supposed to be in Europe by this date. As he was explaining where he lived to me, I was trying to hold back from feeling sick. I started immediately trying to figure out where I could fly to. as soon as I think of things like barbeques or things really family oriented or mainstream American like that, I have to fly somewhere else and just get away from here. I don't know what it is. just this kind of primitive fear of normalcy; the confines of regular worldness. It causes a great fear to swell up in me. Gets you nauseous if you think about it too much. My heart is pounding very fast right now. I have to stop writing. its just too much. I must explore this feeling in me one day to see where it comes from in order to discreate it. but not now.