Oh I'm fairly confident you're using a VPN and throwing your IP address wherever you want. But I like to think that you're in Portugal. I was there in December, interviewing for a job. Lisbon. I enjoyed the atmosphere. It reminded me of Naples (a little). What a fabulous little memory.
When I imagine you're in Portugal I think you're Gerritjan and I feel quite friendly towards you. Oh, I understand you're monitoring me, and I know that I've been fucked over twenty-five ways until Friday. But I enjoyed working with you in Dakar, and running with you in Garmisch, and then working on African Winds with you in Den Helder. We had a really good working dynamic and I thought you were wonderful to hang out with. I thought we were friends. When I met you I had been so sad and driven for so long, and you made me feel a little better.
I'm sick tonight. Bad cold. I left my bicycle at the gym at work because I wasn't up for the 13 mile ride through the wind and the rain with this fever and stuffy nose. I was planning to make the trip but then a nice Italian man named Vinnie offered me a ride home in his Mini Cooper. Vinnie loves living here. He has a motorcycle, and a boat and a German Shepherd.
I had so many things to say to you. but I'm too tired now. I don't have any cold medicine so I downed some Whisky and aleve and I'm heading to bed. The party is still going on outside. I can hear it from my bedroom but I'm done. Goodnight.
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