Mexican?

So what do I do with this blog? Do I write directly here, in this Word Press editor? Or should I write it on a separate document, in Word say, or OpenOffice? But I’m writing on my Linux machine, so it’s gotta be OpenOffice or some plain text editor.

I always wanted to write like Kerouac. Write without stopping to think. I used to do it, in Greek, and send it to my friend Mitso. But not anymore. I can’t write in Greek anymore. The problem is that I would write loads of shite about people, I think. People we both knew, or he got to know from my letters. But I can’t do that here, coz the whole world can see it, if they wish to do so. I could of course change the names. But even then, people would be able to identify who I’m writing about. Maybe the best thing to do would be to stop being such a gossipy little bitch Spiro?

Today’s Saturday and I might meet a friend for dinner. Here I go, talking about people again. Leave it there. Don’t tell them anymore. We might go to a Mexican restaurant where the receptionist or hostess is a beautiful French speaking African woman, who my friend is mad for… Nobody will know. Oh, but hang on a second, Kerouac wrote about people all the time. So it’s OK then. One difference is that by the time the books were published it was too late to do any harm to these people. Maybe another difference is that he didn’t write anything bad about them?

I never said anything bad about anyone, or maybe I did. I’d be interested to read those old letters of mine. I like to think that my gossip hobby is all well-intentioned. Yeah, have a bit of a laugh about some funny characters, that’s all. But I don’t have any real bad feelings towards them, do I?

I was in Greece and my friend sent me a bunch of text messages asking me to go with him to this Mexican restaurant. Maybe he’s planning on asking her out? From what I know about him, she’s definitely his type. But she may be a tad too young for him. Who knows?

OK, wanna go? Outside Covent Garden tube at 8 pm? Or wanna go for a drink first? Oh, by the way, I haven’t touched any alcohol for 42 days. Pat on back. Bravo Spirako, bravo…

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