Wow, I just realized that I really like Henry Miller.

That feeling of romantic recklessness when it's the mid afternoon and you're stumbling around town, a beer in hand, cigarette in the other and everything is vaguelly blurred and muffled, colors brighter and sounds less conprehensible and you have nothing to do but finish that beer and the cigarette and think about last night and how fun being with great people was, even if that meant Russians who love Queen and also happen to be amazing musicians, and being able to wake up at any hour in a bed that's not yours but next to a guy that is (or was for that night and might be for a little while), and agreeing to take a walk to the nearest supermarket to buy a bottle of vodka and a pack of cigs and talk about why you don't miss America and how awesome Russia is, and really all of it always has and always will remind me of those random beautiful moments in life when it just feels good ot live, to be 'bad' to not care and, yes, drink a shot of vodka at ten in the morning, smoke cigarettes and have a beer at a children's playground and just fucking live. Because I will only be able to get away with this now, it will only be romantic and movie-esque while I'm young and not some pathetic life of a homeless old woman. And, really, when will I be able to do this again among the streets of Moscow?