Some Time All Too Alone

This is really lucky for me. After the first night, I was restricted on any computer from accessing anything related to Google. So no blog or e-mail.

Here are some snippets from what I wrote on the side, sort of a jumbled story:

12.3.10  I remember being told that Marrakech is rather boring. How could that be when I was having poorly rehearsed sing-alongs to the Bee Gees and Third-Eye Blind along the coast with two strangers the night before? There’s no mass exodus during prayer, as some people pray at different times and for different lengths - there’s even a ‘joke’ about how much someone prays in a day.

I’ve seen monkeys paraded around and numerous shops that seem to sell the exact same thing. At least I eat for 4 dollars a day, which to a man with no other cash that what he has on him, is a godsend. As luck would have it I’ve come in time with the Marrakech Film Festival. Who else is excited to go to a conversation avec Francis Ford Coppola?

As I go on with limited funds, I feel more and more the need to stop spending. And that fun times to me are burning things, drawing, baking, and rides around the country. I felt great having an unofficial purpose of finding street art in Europe. So I give myself the purpose of finding some cake.

12.4.10   Well, so much for the Ouzoud falls, or the cooking class I had scheduled. I feel like shit.

Being in Marrakech is like an extended stay at the Oregon Country Fair. One indelible similarity is that the strangest sights aren’t with the residents, but those who’re visiting. Though I have yet to find a Dr Vortex store.

And haggling. At your best, it’s more fun that television, at your most sick and hungry, it makes a short day a blessing. And what better way to end the day than upturned in the only room I’ve been in that lets you shower and poo in the same 4x4 inclined square.

I have an unusual urge to bake.

12.5.10   I ate lunch with a nice British couple. I walked around the city, especially the Cyber Park. A park with free kiosks for the internet scattered about trees and fountains.

I’ve lost a great deal of appetite, and feel like shit still. However, I did go out in the ammonia air to watch Keanu Reeves present Speed (too bad I won’t be here to see John Malkovich do the same for Con Air). He tried greeting the crowd in true Arabic/Keanu style. It was hilarious, especially since he really didn’t understand why he was there, as emphasized by his final, crouched and dramatic words, “SPEED!”

Ice cream. Oh thank god for ice cream.

I’m having trouble planning my life. How will I be a teacher and a role model while launching a major series of erotic photographs? And how will I afford the series featuring close-ups of weightless erogenous zones? Why is life so DIFFICULT?!




12.6.10  I wandered out and found the closest thing I could to cake. Sort of a marshmellowy mousse. Upon returning to the Riad I was shoved upon a Norwegian as I was the only person that spoke English. Roger and I went for some tea. He had just left his job composing music to travel and write his second childrens book (Of course I'll find the name). We walked around and have made plans to go to some music tonight.



In preparation for a long series of airports I have downloaded Daybreakers, Bad Lieutenant, Easy A, Dinner for Schmucks, and Get Him to the Greek.


I'm excited to leave Marrakech. It is kind of boring, but maybe that's just because I've been confined. And in my confinement I can't get Ewan McGregor out of my head. But then I've referenced so many men, that I should show the more attractive, and fairer sex (Of course I mean Holly Hunter).


And I have become purposeful, yet disheveled: