Saturday, October 28, 2017
Writing this from airport.
I didn’t break my promise, Diary. This is partly due to the sort of language I’d use with myself if I did. In the past few days I have called myself a retard at least one hundred times in my head every day.
I failed to impress, Diary. Because of my tardiness, it came out on the same level a pit lord someone drew. I love an Inferno fan, but it is my eternal shame. You only have one chance to make first impression, and I fucked it up. If I had taken two - three hours, I’d have a poster like the Vayaron one. Instead I... I will hate myself for years for it. The show itself is good, and as you know I don’t like to talk about good things. I was not surprised at all that they opened with h2 knight theme, at the same time one thing that irks me is they didn’t play h3 main title the way it is. H3 main title is quintessential Heroes. Every time you hear it you know you’ll about to have a good adventure time.
Anyway. I don’t know why every trip has to end with me in a severe bad mood. It’s true for every trip. There is always something in the end. This would be a cuntish Norwegian. Fucking arrogant asshole. This is like the cunt VC who showed me his daughter’s manga doodle that looked like it was clawed by a chicken. Fucking cunts. I’m not jealous Diary, I truly hate parents who are proud of their worthless child. This Norwegian is a cunt otherwise anyway. It’s a paradox innit, I have to know more of them to make informed generalization, but I have less and less desire to go there let alone know anyone. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Until then, fuck these people. Fucking condescending pricks.
Poles are lovely, mostly. But I honestly have no energy. I don’t want to figure out why Heroes has such a big fanbase in Poland. I thought it’s Russia? By last night I could not distinguish Russian and Polish so who knows, maybe a whole lot of Russians came.
I had a couple of hours to spare before the flight. But the weather is so horrendous...
It was all raining and gray when I got to Wroclaw yesterday, as I walked along the riverbank I said to myself : “ Didn’t you say you like raining you FUCKING RETARD ? ”
And I did. But not like this. I realized how wonderful Barcelona is, and again how endearing the Spaniards are. The Poles I encountered are nice, but there is no way in hell I can put up with their culture for longer than two days. It’s not a negative or poor opinion, just a bad fit.
I don’t like traveling, Diary. I have traveled, it’s worth it and meaningful, but I have come back to tell you I don’t like traveling. This is the Greatest length I have gone for a hobby - there is nothing like it so I don’t think I’ll do it again. No more. Please, please no more.
To discourage you ordering room service ze hotel put a scale in the bathroom. I ordered it anyway.
Gosh Diary, I shouldn’t let one cuntish Norwegian ruin this wonderful trip. I think it’s the collapse of Nordic countries’ image that’s bothering me. For all the good things I hear and read from papers and stuff, one hundred percent ( 100 % ) of the people I met are insufferable tools, on and offline. Fuck these arrogant pricks, I hope they rot in their circle jerk circles. I don’t have time to hold off this opinion.
No matter how these arrogant fools stereotype Italians and Spaniards, they’re my favorite people in Yorope. Of course that might change, like if my landlord conned any of my 7000€ deposit, or someone steals from me or hurt me in any form that breaks the littlest of skin. But until then I have literature and experience, and they tell me who I like the best.
I loath myself a great bit after I stepped on the scale. I’m going to change back, Diary.