Daniel the Writer

Daniel Adler don’t got his phone no mo’. Bought two tickets today, one from Cairo to Athens, the other from Warsaw to Mumbai. Very well priced, six hundred for both. That’s it, the only airfare. Although it’s somewhat worrisome not having an Indian visa. Have to get it in Cairo or Warsaw, places I’ll be for at least a week, most likely. But I’ve done that before.

Before I went to Russia, I had to get that visa in Prague, which ended fairly disastrously, about as worse as it could have, save the gulag. PENULTIMATE NIGHT. Went to Chris’ studio, he’s onto something. So much more to explore. Painting and writing are very similar–if you know what you’re doing, you’re doing it wrong. It’s just hard to break free from the tradition, because that’s what you like, what inspires you. It is the flame you’re passing on, and yet you have to extinguish it in order to let your eyes adjust to the darkness. Then relight it.

Meeting Evy tomorrow. He’s bringing the girl, I’m bringing the camel and the goats. At the well. When the shadows are two spans long. Buy passport photos. Keep them in a hidden pocket, so that when someone runs into me, it’ll explode and hundreds of little pictures of me will float like confetti from the sky.