He Was Drunk And Everything Seemed Hilarious

Last week in Marrakesh was my last week in Marrakesh; this week was Rabat staying with Noel, a Cameroonian soon-to-be kinesiotherapist who reminds me of Henry Miller. Noel's taken me on as a little brother of sorts, and is one of the few people I've met in Morocco with whom I feel I can interact as a whole self. And tomorrow I leave for the windy beaches of Essaouira and Mirleft.

Went to a bar with two Germans I'd met in Marrakesh and who were passing through Rabat. A Moroccan who apparently lived in the States for some 25 years began talking with us. It was hilarious--I understood where the Germans were coming from, where the Moroccan was coming from, and where I was coming from, while each of them appeared to be in the dark concerning anyone else's take on the interaction. The Moroccan, Mahjoub, told us his cousin owned the bar and that it's for, surprise, prostitutes (not surprise prostitutes (I think)). He bought three or four rounds for us. I went to the bathroom and some drunk walked hunched out of a stall, telling me, "oui, vous pouvez entrer, et soyez le bienvenue au Maroc":yes, you can go in, and welcome to Morocco. I filled three hands worth of notes that night. Wondering, though, if this note-taking is vampiric, like photography; an admission of impotent neglect of the moment, where the place is absent from the self and the self from the self and the place. Still chewing on that one--if you don't like the answer, ask again.

Met back up with Sabir from Chefchaouen, he studies here in Rabat. Was treated by him and his friends as a philosophy faucet to spew out conjectures on various prompts. Didn't do much for the ego, as I didn't greatly value those objectifying me as teacher thing.

In Marrakesh I accidentally ate a semi-rancid eclair after having left it out for two days. That afternoon some guy starts up a conversation with me and I talk to him, as he doesn't seem bad, per se. He invites me and the Germans (Andreas and Laura) to drink a coffee with him, okay. He wants us to buy hashish, less than one gram for 150 dirhams--ridiculous ridiculous ridiculous. The going rate is 20dh/g is what I tell him. I make it known he is not on my good side, moreover that I do not like him and tell him he can leave us. Just then, Laura comes over and suggests we all go to the alcohol market together. Laura and Andreas are new and have not caught on to the fact that this guy is no good. We go. It occurs to me that Laura looks like what I'd imagine Emma Gerstein, Ruth's childhood best friend, to look like at her age, 21. We have the same birthday, I think only the second person I've ever met with the same birthday as me. We go to the alcohol market down the stairs of an unmarked door with a man standing watch. It is mayhem down in this cramped speakeasy-like place, people coming and going as fast as they can, trying to escape the eyes of God or the king's police. I tell this dude who has tagged along with his cousin that he needs to pay for his beers if he wants any. Of course, he has no money on him and promises reimbursement, he just needs to go by the post office on our way back to Djemaa el-Fna. It is nearly 8pm, the post is closed and we know this. Things are confused, we all leave. He starts telling me to translate to Laura how he wants to spend the night with her and how she is beautiful and stupid shit. I do translate in hopes that she would understand this guy is an ass. No definitive luck. The guy tells me I don't trust him and I sat yeah, that's how I am. He responds by saying he hopes we become very good friends. I say inshallah--if God wants. We go for dinner and beforehand I ask him if he has money to eat, since he didn't have money for beer. Beat him to the punch so there's no oops, I have no money or oh, I thought you'd invited me. He says he's not hungry. We eat. We go back to the hotel and he is still pushing hash at Andreas and dick at Laura. He drinks 3 of their beers without asking, spills by my bed without saying anything about it, and I find the puddle upon coming back to my room at the end of the night. Didn't see him again and all the happier for it.

Rabat has been good. Looking forward to creating a new space for myself. Over and out.