I'm not sure because the blinds are shut.
I can see light out so it must not be night.
Yeah, that's probably a good guess, but what I'm more concerned about is finding a nude model to draw for my art class.
You should rent a hooker on Gran Via and draw her.
That's a great idea. I'll bring my basketball, and maybe afterwards we can play one on one.
I just ate an entire chicken with a side of french fries and a salad. A coke to drink. One of the final meals I will eat here in Madrid. The countdown has begun and the days are flying by. I'll be home in 8 days.
Last night was fun. We went to a bar and I roamed around asking Spaniards about their opinions on bullfighting. I could say that I always do that, but that's not the truth. The truth is i'm doing an investigation on Las Ventas y Las Corridas de Toros for my spanish class.
A tall, bald black man licks his fingers and asks me if i'm looking for some "lamb lamb". He's a sleazy looking guy wearing a black pea-coat (or is it p-coat?), with a huge diamond in his ear. Probably fake. When he says lamb lamb he's referring to chicas. girls. women. babes. I haven't the slightest clue why he calls them lambs, but i'll allow it. It's funny. Courtesy of Mr. Lamb Lamb the drinks were plentiful.
As I leave the bar I see a man getting the living hell beat out of him, and as he lays there in the street I walk up to him to see if he's alive. Just as i'm almost directly standing over him, i look up to see an angry Spaniard run up and kick this man right in the face. Blood flies everywhere. The man then sets his sights on me. I put a hand up to let the guy know that i'm not part of this. Had he charged me it wouldn't have been much of a fight. He was no taller than 5'5 and very drunk. A foot to his chest would have sufficed - i wouldn't want to get my hands dirty with that little, little man. The guy begins to slowly walk away, admiring his work as he yells and cheers. I drag the bloody man out of the middle of the street and lean him up against the building. I got blood all over my hand. I washed the blood off with paper towels and beer. Don't know why I almost found myself in the middle of a spanish battle royale or with a hand full of blood. I didn't really want to stop the fight, i didn't even know why they were fighting - for all i knew the guy deserved to get beat up, but not kicked in the face while he's already lying almost lifeless in the street. I merely wanted to drag the guy out of the street so he didn't get run over or gang beat to death. Go ahead, fight. I don't care, but i wasn't about to see a guy get run over - it's my last 8 days in Madrid. I don't want to see someone die. I've seen a few bulls die, but no humans. Fingers crossed that I arrive to the airport in 8 days with this truth still intact.
Now i'm going to curl up in my bed, read a spanish book and then probably draw a picture for my art class. Dinner is up in the air, but I think I know a place.
Whoa,
CM Stassel
p.s. Don't worry Mom it's too rainy and cold to go rent a hooker on Gran Via.
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