et tu fais comment pour ne pas être sourde?

i woke up in a subwoofer wrapped in a filthy muddy blanket at 7 am this morning, and realized that i was 3 hours out of town and needed to be on a train at 9:40.

um. what? dammit.

it´s really hard writing a blog entry with one of your avid readers looking at everything you type over your shoulder. quit it, kythe. I MEAN IT I´MMA PUNCH YOU.

so, because i´m a trashbag, i had to buy a new ticket, a bus ticket as there´s only one train a week and i can´t stay yet another week in BsAs, although i would love to as i´m sure you know. we leave at 9 tomorrow for la quiaca which is the last city before bolivia and then we go to santa cruz for the dun dun dun, as my father called it.

oh, and here, when i disappear for 3 days, people call the cops and attempt to file missing persons reports. in montreal, knowing you guys, or maybe knowing me is more appropriate, you´d probably think i was passed out in a ditch. which was actually the case, sorta.

the party was lovely, the music was lovely, i have 10 000 pictures of me with my head in the speaker, and pictures of eyes (!) that i wish i could have gouged out with a spork but the poor thing needs them, i think. my stay in argentina is coming to an end and i can feel it pushing down on my back, i don´t want to leave but there´s always next time. even if my mother doesn´t seem to approve of my choice to travel instead of getting a proper education - diplomas or passport stamps?

um, passport stamps please! because if i don´t do it now, i won´t be able to do it when i´m pushing 60 and retired, it´s just not the same...

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