Friday, March 1, 2002


In a field near the airport with storm clouds blowing in and tears in my eyes, complaining about reindeer games of the Varsovian expat crowd to which I am not welcomed (nor invited), I rediscover the magic of myself. Today is officially declared Dzien Franka--Day for Frank!--and I will vacation from my own head and from those who make me so unhappy. My first official act was to turn off my cell phone. The second official act was to drink a large Zywiec at my favorite cafe.

Last nights's dinner party for the lost felt more like a graduate seminar in Polish sociology. I left at 10:30 feeling just a little bit more lost than usual. And now I only think about "leaving" and "being gone."

Alas there's no point in crying over spilt cologne, even if it is Chanel's Platinum Egoiste. The third official act was to buy a replacement bottle.

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