Last legs

We don't much have the patience to rifle through the guest houses down accommodation lane. I just smell the pillows and ask how much. I don't have a hat any more because I cut my hair and look like an idiot in a hat. I left the jeans I brought on the railing of an airport in Indonesia. I left a gray long sleeve Old Navy special on a bed in Laos. It's always been too damn hot for either of those things save for in the North of Vietnam. I don't have the sunglasses I bought in the Philippines but I bought an identical pair in Vang Vieng. I don't have a parasite, that I know of.

I don't have a sunburn currently, although I've got another week to get a last one. I don't look at much in the markets anymore. I don't want their stuff, all their same stuff everywhere shipped from China to hawkers stalls from Sumatra to Siem Reap.  I don't have a handle on what's been happening in the world, I don't have the internet much. I know people aren't happy in Quebec and Syria. I don't mean to be crass. I don't get a lot of sleep these days.

I have a not quite healed broken toe from a 3 on 3 basketball game in the Philippines. I have a new scar on my wrist from when I nearly went through a wicker door in Cambodia. I have a crippling addiction to 'Toasties', a grilled ham and cheese pocket that can only be purchased in 7-11's in Thailand. Each day I have a new personal best in the category of "longest elapsed time without shaving." I have learned and forgotten how to say thank you in seven languages. I have a bamboo gun that shoots small rocks for someone as a present. I have bought a plane ticket that says "June 17" on it. I have an affliction much like a child has before Christmas. I have trouble getting to sleep because I am excited to see you.