jetlag is a beautiful thing, really. that one's body knows that the sunlight, the eggs in the morning are not on schedule, that one is physically bewildered by this abruptly new world means that one's body was really in the old world, that waking and hungering at a specific time, that the emotional experience of eating an omelette at eight PM is not arbitrary, that they can feel and be wrong makes North American Eastern Standard Time very personal and close.
to come to stockholm with new york grease in my hair, sunlight in my skin, english in my ears, to come to stockholm with the stool of new york food! how thrilling to transplant something, it's halfway time travel to dump new york receipts in stockholm trash cans, what transaction could dream of such a journey, such a burial? everything is damn special moved that far that fast. i mean, even by boat filth makes history, some forgettable east indian rats with forgettable germs in their pockets killed two thirds of europe. to travel!
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