Bierhimmel: e and e

how does drinking contribute to a reflection of a moment, well, while i write this flawed post, with the knowledge that i hate public journal entries. I am also accept that anything that is written at a bar can’t be that bad. As i overlook the room, smoke filtered through cotton, red gauloises insted of feminine blonde, i can’t help but feel a reaffirmation of my desire to posses some kind of digital camera,
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in busts a new conjurer of words
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this girl i talked to her just a bit her coffee breath was so nice. i liked it close to my face, it was a gesture of intimacy, she smiled and was really listening to me. Ulli, i will remember her name, mixing up her syntax in that german way and maybe here it’s alright to stare at strange girls in a bar and feel like it’s okay to be gay. she looks like juliee andrews and when she kisses her girlfriend her lips end in a perfect petal ohh. her checkered sweater is an emblem of the girls i’ve dreamed about slouching around subway stairwells and smoking with their beautiful muscled penstrokes. yes i’m staring at her whole crowd but it’s because she unites them like a steeple. this is the kind of girl, these are her shoes, maybe i won’t remember her, i hope i don’t.
i miss a place where i wished i belonged. that’s why i come here, to arrive in the knot of sweet, strange faces. yes i can walk to the back where the tobacco machine is, but when do i know that i’ve made an impression? when i’ve sunken my fingerprints in the human german clay for a minute. i want that feeling when you can breathe with the even rhythm of a train, when you can feel like one of everybody, and when somebody reads what you feel, and reads what you feel