een liefdesbrief aan amsterdam

c/o Ryan Bartek (10.12.13)

een liefdesbrief aan amsterdam

Beating a dead horse thats pummeling you in return, a victorious desideratum amid the sordid meat scream. From the shadow-cast ghost-steps of iron rain symphony it is to you, Dearest Amsterdam, whom I offer this useless, profound commentary. My best friends are cities, and I consort with music. And you, staunchest of comrades, are my finest ally. The meat grinder ponzi scheme of your Pinocchio Donkey Island is precious, profane, preposterous. Like Merle Dixon, you are cold brotherly love. You and all your dirty Dutch tricks. No slotstuk of touristic rampage, no rest save for the pee woods of the freest park in Europe. In my country I am a loser, but in your realm I am the Omega VondleParkTroll. Amsterdam one stop shopping, everything you need right at your fingertips. Your flawless cardboard sign HEMA sharpies, cannaboid amnesia and finest socks on earth. I never understood LSD until I understood you, my darling. You make me fall in love every time you & your eternal garden-legion of dread-headed Aryan goddesses & pasty white snow queens. Your two hour hitch-hiking max wait time & assurance that the FBI will never find me here. Amsterdam it is never your fault, solely mine. If a nacht grows soft, it is simply of volition to my ever increasing sense of alienation. Amsterdam, a lesser man you would break. But is the concept of 1 cinema too radical a notion? Can we just ditch the little old bathroom ladies? I'm so glad you're not French, because it's fucked up to eat snails. Spared of Fukushima and not a FEMA Camp on the horizon, your cops politely ignite my joints. A resin caked

ground-score every five meters, and not a gunshot echoes through your night. I highly appreciate the 50 AIDScleansed hookers, but just because I'm a psychopath doesn't mean I'm not a feminist. Amsterdam, your cultural tolerance is so profound it borders on self destruction. You inspire me to collect scrap metal like a Moroccon cart pusher. I really don't miss the sector of my brain we mutually fried, even if I can't recall these sentences halfway through typing them. Amsterdam, ich bin der kaiser von shiese inglese & a harvest of spirits thunderstruck by fog clarity. Hand in hand & lies conjoined we will pretend your cultural nexus tapestry invented Speculoospasta, though you created something far greater in your industrial outskirts a place which I am proud to call home, even if I cannot pronounce its name, where the definition of church sanctuary reigns unrestrained. Amsterdam, stop looking at me funny. You & your squat colonies pregnant with amphetamines & infinite neuron disfigurement. Nederland, you really should look into that deal the Dutch Royals cut with Hitler before taking the first boat out of Dodge. Marijuana is not your national treasure, but rather The Hague. How do I break it to your volk that in America soccer is a sport for women and little girls? Even your mightiest athlete is dubbed a foot fairy. Don't shoot the messenger Holland. And please remain cordial to the Belgians, even if they never cut the grass. Dear Amsterdam, deaf and blind parades are choking the arbitrary fallacy. I'm drained of ink. You & me & Mr. Sugar Cube buddy. Let's do the dirty hippy dance.

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