A tawdry little affair in Prague.
Waking up on the train to find my pants sliced open and my wallet gone.
Sleeping homeless in a park in Warsaw.
Being rescued by a polish angel.
Getting to Vilnius, and having my phone number for Paul not work, then running into Paul on the street.
Getting wired money from my parents and life returning to normal--in Lithuania.

God what a spectacular trip!

People kiss in Prague. All the time. Everywhere. You can hardly spit without hitting tongue. It's amazing. And they are so casual about it. It's like an alternate activity. Do you feel like seeing a movie? Naw, let's make out in public instead. It's just funny. And it's, and this is going to sound really weird here, but like a totally non-sexual thing. In the US, it seems that if you are making out, and the kissing gets starts getting real intense, people start looking for a bed, or some other flat surface like a kitchen counter, or an semi-private elevator, or someplace to close the deal. These people, the kissing ones, they don't seem remotely revved up. The seem hapy. But that's really about it. And they kiss for what seems like ever. They were kissing when I got there, I was there for at least 10 or 15 minutes, and they were kissing when I left. No stopping to talk, or breathe. No hands involved--not on the head, or neck, or back or elsewhere--their mouths seem to be the only point of contact. These people make a good case for kissing being an olympic event. I swear, the whole city is just one big red ad.

On a somewhat related tip, I did see a guy and a girl slip into a men's room stall at the museum in Munich. I so wanted to lead a little cheer or something, but I didn't.

Least favorite way to be woken up ever: 4 am on a train to prague by a Third Reich Nazi woman dressed in all olive drab and holstering a glock bursting into your compartment barking "Pasporten Check." I almost crapped myself.

I look forward to getting some actual bed sleep for the first time in the last three nights tonight. It will be a most wonderful thing.

So I'm in a bagel shop/internet cafe sucking back a liter of beer that cost me $0.60 in the beautiful city of prague. It's a spectacular cafe. My dorm mate at the hostel is an australian named Ashe, and I have a couple friends with me at the cafe here--two Montrealians named Katherine and Renault--they mostly speak french. There is better music in Prague. Although I did here a techno version of Humpty Dumpty in a cab earlier, and a Ragae version of Light My Fire here in the cafe that made me make a strange looking face for a while.

I showered today. I need to take a higher allergy dosage tomorrow. Happy and good.

Hey Barta, maybe I don't remember your email address. Shoot me an email. Actually, everyone shoot me an email, and put your physical address in it. I'm going to try and do some post cards. I have never done post cards before, and feel that I should.

What a day. The keyboard layout is different in Germany. Who'd a thunk it? This is going to take me forever to type.

Okay, anyway. So sixteen hour plane flights suck. There's no getting around that one. It was a pretty empty flight from Seattle to Toronto, but Toronto to Munich was packed. Toronto Airport needs some videogames or something. It' a sterile environment. I went to the bathroom a lot, just cuz there really isn't anything else to do. There were a few cute girls there, but they had the unfortunate fashion sense to accessorize with wedding bands, so I skipped that. So on the Packed Toronto flight to Munich, I got seated next to Mr angry Austrian man. Not a lot of conversation there. He got the arm rest. Hoarded the free mini alcohol bottles. Was outraged at the state of Airplane cuisine. And was just grumpy. The first thing he said to me was, "If the plane is not full, you will move elsewhere to sit, right." I slept a good chunk of the time, so that helped.

Munich is beautiful. The subway machine didn't like any of the money I had to offer it, so that took a while to get past. I walked through the downtown area on my first little wondering adventure, just to get the lay of the land, and I accidentily hit all the places I was supposed to go according to my little guide book. Good intuition, or masterful city planning?

I hit the former Nazi party headquarters, which is all done up like the acropolis. Had a lunch of sausages, saurkrout, mashed potatoes and mustard with a half liter of weissbier at the Hofbrau Haus, which is accross from the Hard Rock Cafe--that was taugh decision. I woulda Dug a hard rock cafe Munich T-shirt.

Then I went to a museum and saw a bunch of lousy paintings, and a few that were truly exquisite. The Van Gogh just ripped me to shreds. Truly amazing. Whenever I see one of his paintings, it really hits me. You can feel how hurt he was. How the whole world looked blue and trappped, no matter how beautiful. The prints of his work just don't do that. It's like the emotion is trapped in the canvas itself. Prints on dorm room walls always feel cheery and boring--like bob ross with some crucial tubes empty.

For the record, Rembrandt still sucks.

I had a couple lattes and chatted up the barista for a while. Then I found an Inline skate fest going on. The strange thing about the skate fest was that no one was running it. It was just hapening. They had a half pipe up, and a sign on it which pretty much said skate at your own risk, and people just did. What would America be like if we didn't have law suits?

You know you can still drive as fast as you want here on the autobahn, but your insurance isn't liable if you crash going over 150 km/h. Strange, huh? Just a little trivia.

I'm taking the 11:50 pm train to Prague tonight. That way I can have another night with poor sleep. I smell a record coming.

Another thing. There a few really common archtypes for the Munich girls. At first I though I was accidentily stalking a couple of them. But it turns out I wasn't, unless she's a good quick-change artist.

I keep trying to work on Tricia's mix CD in my head. It'll be two months before I could even begin actual work on it, and that's what I keep thinking about. Sometimes I wish I had some small smidge of control over my own brain. Oh to dare to dream.

That's all for now. Love you all.

I am about to begin packing.

Wow.

Wow.

Woweewowowow.

It just hit me. I'm going to europe in 14 hours. How do I know this? I just suspended my cell phone. It's inoperable. I haven't been without my cell for 4 years. Jesus is that right? I think it is. Wow. It's funny. Losing my cell phone is what scares me. Damn. Wow.

I leave for europe in 20 hours. 20. Holy Allah on Asparagus. I should start packing. My email address for when I'm traveling will be my name, zach zulauf, all as one word, @ either yahoo.com or hotmail.com. Why am I explaining it like this rather than just writing it? because I don't want it to be picked up by roving bots and added to more spam lists. I get enough spam. Paranoid? You better believe it. But I don't need free access to the net's youngest women, I feel generaly secure with myself without adding 1 to 2 inches, my credit is good enough, and I don't want to earn 500K a year just using the internet. And that's just the way it is. I will post from Europe, but it may be more a weekly thing. We'll see. I will miss you all. Stay sexy. Z.

Sun. Breeze. Anxiety. Excitement. Tension. Thirst. Fear. Grounding....Grounding.... Wanting to get to grounded. Underpromise and overdeliver. Honesty. Maybe bowling is the answer. Maybe. Maybe I need a nap.

Well I'm back in town. And yeah, it took a little longer than expected, but I feel great. I just wasn't ready to come back on Tuesday. Plus I would have had to leave my game of mini golf down in Santa Cruz early if I wanted to make my flight, which, you know, just wasn't an option. I mean, c'mon, mini-golf. And pirate themed mini golf at that.

I had a lot of fun walking around berkeley while I was down there. I would just meander, and smile at people, and see if I could get them to smile back. It's amazing how few people smile back. It makes me wonder if I have a creepy smile or something. I hope not. Oh well, too late to change now. It's really nice to get smiles from strangers. It's nice to get smiles from people you know too, but they know you, so they have to smile at least some of the time.

I leave for europe on Sunday. One week to go. So much to do.

The Lovely Tricia turned 31 today, (well, yesterday, technically, now). HAPPY FRIGGIN B-DAY TRICIA!!! I gave people who placed their custom CD orders early, their CDs. I hope they liked them. I had a blast doing up the discs for them. Bill got his before he left. I still need to design up a cover for Nick's. I like designing stuff. I like making mix CDs. I wish I knew more about music.

I'm going to be out of town till late Tuesday, so blooging between now and then may be infrequent or nonexistent. But it doesn't mean I don't love you all. Cuz I do.

Moose are very territorial, don't bother them, they won't bother you.

I have to finnish this play in the next hour and a half. I'm so fucked.

Hey, Zach, word on the street is that some freakish people have actually take to sleeping at night. Would you believe it?

Bite Me.

Well, my Mom got older today (well, yesterday, now). Happy Birthday, Mom. And as part of the festivities, my Mon, Dad, brother and I went to the art museum--first Thursday and all that jazz. And I have to say...how do I phrase this...a lot of art sucks. I know, I know, you aren't supposed to say such things. And yeah, the problem isn't the art, it's me. But still. I don't like it.

Like renaisance painters--Rembrandt and all those others that try to look like Rembrandt--they do nothing for me. Wow, skintone, lighting, realism, yada yada. SO? But historical context! Yawn. I don't care. Just don't. Can't make me.

And no, I couldn't paint anything nearly as well. And no, I don't have anything against the millions of people who do like the stuff I don't. But still. I'm tired of being in museums and looking at stuff with people and acting like "oh yeah. It's amazing. I apprecite it. And it just feels amazing to look at." Not gonna do it anymore. Call me what you will.

I took a nod from the Stage Managing Queen of Verbatim, and added the Commenting Services of Yaccs. The commenting window looks all generic at the moment. I'll try to at least match up the colors at some point. But not right now.

Do I have something to say tonight? Probably not.

Ludacris is on late night tv performing "roll out"--a song I actually like. But for some reason, hip-hop artists really haven't mastered the art of live performance. I know that's a huge generalization, but tell me I'm wrong. And alas, Ludacris has fallen prey to that same trap. For shame.

I'm trying to write a play for the Tank Plays, which goes up next Fall. It's tenatively titled Stuffing. Here's my vision of what the little weekly theater listing blurb will read as:

Mike, acting on a technicality, contacts the Men at Guinness and loads up 10 of his closest friends into a GTE Model 4 phone booth outside the Carver Fuel and Fly to await the glory of being a World Record holder. The friends complain. Flirt. Find quarters and gum. And one even offers a running critique of the playwright. But what are the challenges and rewards of being the best? And what if no one's watching, does it still count?

How does that sound? Would you come see that? Would you act in it? What if you had to be on the bottom? What if I actually have no talent as a playwright? Does that change your answer? Should I have gone bowling tonight? Where should I go in europe? Should I bring my camera, or just use disposable ones? Do I need to get some new shoes? Where can I get those circular stickers that go over CDs? Why aren't there any late night driving ranges?

I feel like some ice tea.