A new week. Is it my third in this country? I have lost track of time somewhat..

Apparently this week there will be a presidential summit here in Bratislava. George W. Bush (USA) and Putin (Russia) are meeting here, on Thursday I have been told. And do you know what else.. they are meeting in a palace down the street from where I live. My street, according to my landlord, is the main way down to this particular palace (Slovak Presidential Palace).. and we can expect our daily balance to be disturbed as the street might be crowded with police - and perhaps even protestants.
Wonderful! Could they not have met in the White House? And left this calm city at peace. So inconsiderate.
I hope this will not bring any real danger to innocent civilians such as myself and all my neighbours.
Another problem that we, myself and my Rosie B classmates, might have to deal with, is that if we were to be stopped for some reason by police or security, they are unlikely to speak much English. Even unlikelier to speak Icelandic. I cannot believe I will have to take my passport with me wherever I go this week. But then, I am not a particularly suspicious looking fellow..
Or am I?

This past weekend, I along with three of my classmates - after their return from Vienna - went to a popular club outside the Bratislava centrum, called Coyote Ugly. I suspect the name has something to do with the film, released some years ago.. but I never saw that film, as I found it immensely unattractive, so I can not be sure.
The waitresses wear cowboy hats, and the guests dance on the tables. There is a dj (disc jockey), and party music is played, but there is no dance floor. I suppose we are expected to dance on tables.
Anyway, we indulged in drinking, and talked and laughed .. and danced a bit, not on tables though .. and I got to a point, which sometimes happens with drinking, where my rational self left my body. It resigned. Left me there an emotional pulp, an open wound that bled over all and everything.
I loved, I hated, I laughed hysterically, I may even have cried. I kissed and hugged and smiled and frowned. Any onlooker could have seen exactly what I was feeling at any particular moment.
My senses dulled to the point that all I understood any more was body language and written language.

We returned home very late. This bleeding pulp of emotional flesh was laid to bed.. my covers stuck to me covered in blood.. the rational self watched and waited..
Sometime during the night it crept back in.. and I was whole again. My emotions still there, of course, but now covered and protected by the rational surface.

Retrospectively,
..kH