42 dagar i USA

What am I doing here? Do I have a purpose in this mass produced hotel room? Did I come here seeking some answers? Was I driven here by some purpose? Was I really seeking answers or just trying to find some new questions? 42 - the answer to life, universe and everything. This hotel room, four walls and one ugly rug, a place so similar to everything else and at the same time to nothing at all.

A room built to make you feel at home, but only home if you´re some washed up third grade actor that keeps telling him/herself that this flick you just singed up to do really is a spiritual experience and not another sleasy half-naked low budget direct to dvd production. But with a Budweiser in one hand and the remote, flicking through some 50 or more channels in the other one, can´t help but feel... relaxed. Not at home, but sedated enough to block out the lingering feeling of sadness that has crippled you for the last couple of days. You? Me? Me? You? You and me? No, not know, not the right time, place or mind.

A madman is sitting in the Fox News-chair. Speaking with the confidence of someone that Knows but with none of the fear and respect that true knowledge brings. Trying to sell his smart lies to an audience that´s lost the ability to think for itself - constantly hammered with new ways of doing nothing. Everything is for sale, everywhere a comercial. 

Have I been here for too long? Did I really leave? What does all this mean? Am I seeing the signs or making them up?

A madman is sitting in a hotel room in San Francisco trying to grab hold of the pieces of a future he destroyed by himself. No choice, I had no choice, never had, never wanted. Not like this. Learn to enjoy losing. 

Still trying to be someone else, something different, something important and big. Something that matters.

Fast solutions in every direction. Drugs for every part of the human body and then some. No questions asked as long as the credit card clears. Am I part of the problem or the solution? Does it matter in the end? Does anything?  

No thoughts. No memories worth clinging on to that doesn´t involve either sex, smiling faces, or a mix of the two. And football, for some reason football seems important. A way to make things simple, winners and losers, black and white, right and wrong, good and bad.

Another Budweiser - the ordinary mans beverage, always a way to numb the mind. The Mask is on tv. "We all wear masks Wendy, metaphoricly speeaakiinnnnnnnnnng".

Yea. Sure. But where did my mask go? Thrown away or left in a dumpster? Honest or just strange? Just another freak in the freak kingdom.

Sad? .... Can´t shake the feeling. But why? Why sad? Why is this the feeling that I can´t shake. Why not filled up wtih hope or some other crazy notion, feeling or substance?

Another Bud. Only two left now. Green golf cap on. Why not? No sympathy for the devil.

How come you, I, always wait  til it´s too late to say the stuff that we really want to say? No trust in the own ability to dare, to take the leap and ffind some footing. If you can hold my hand? Hell yea, hold me all night, I want nothing else. Fuck it. What´s left to loose? Just another freak in the freak kingdom. No, relax. Learn to enjoy losing.

Buy the ticket, take the ride.

.... and now, on this fairly ordinary night in San Fran, I want to leave this small black portable device and lie naked on a king size bed.