Travel Diary: Somewhere in Kensington

By: S. Davis

September; London:

Full Disclosure: This is written across several mediums: In the notes section of my phone while in bed, by hand on a notepad, and on a few napkins that were within arms reach. This is explicit in nature, it is scattered at times and trails off incompletely at others – and I left it in its original format for fun.

What day is it? My head feels cloudy and the sun is shining on my forehead. Of all the other real estate in the room, the rays hit my skin. I guess I need to get the hell out of this bed. There are bottles of water, chips and popcorn on the table nestled next to the window. I didn’t go to the store last night. Did I?

What happened last night?

There’s a stench in this room so thick where I can almost see it hovering below the ceiling. I can’t sleep any longer. I want to. There is some chic, navy blue, stilettos by the bathroom entrance, well there’s one that I can see at least. My vision is blurred and I feel a headache coming along.

What the fuck, Sean?

A jeweled purse hangs from the chair and there’s a glass, half full, of wine and an unopened bottle of Guinness. That’s me; definitely. I hear a soft groan and feel the heat of silky thighs as they meet my skin. Two kisses on my right shoulder and then…sleep. At least one of us can. How much hair does she have?

I smell…licorice for some reason; from her. Oh shit! I feel nose blind. I rise to blow my nose and the floor is freezing. I have flaky, dry residue on my stomach, inside my belly button, on my upper thighs. That’s sex. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and then search for the used condom – or the wrapper at least. I search and I can’t find it. Fuck! I’m getting nervous. Terrified! No amount of alcohol could distort me to the point where I don’t use protection, or am I wrong? Fuck that!

My nasal passages open and now a licorice scent is on my lips. I lick them and don’t taste anything but skin. I drop to my knees on her side of the bed and I locate a condom wrapper. She turns under the covers and her bare ass approaches the edge of the bed while a used condom plummets and lands on my left hand. Yes! The last thing I need is an international “She’s fucking pregnant!? Of course she is, Sean, it’s your life!” situation. Hmm…

I smell her back and last night begins to come into focus, it was a complete mess of booze, vagina sweat and absinthe remnants emanating through our pores. Absinthe does it again.

Her ass is appetizing. She definitely exercises that area of her body. I should bite it but I decline and pull the blanket over her bare skin after I run my fingertips across it. She’s dead asleep. I’m jealous. I flush the condom (and the wrapper) before retrieving her dress from the bathroom and hanging it on the back of the chair. I locate a second used condom in the shower drain, trash it and also collect her other shoe and neatly place both under the chair with all of her garments. There’s no sign of her underwear, or her bra.

I warm a pot of tea and butter a bagel before my eyes open with glee as I spot strawberry preserves. Winning! My phone’s dying and hers is at 1%. I plug both into the wall. I go back to the table and her dress smells so spectacular. What is that perfume? It’s understated yet glorious and…whewwwww. She’s about to have her sleep disturbed. Ha!

The sun is blocked out by the clouds and there’s a slight drizzle on the window. I open it ever so slightly and the screeching sound annoys the hell out of me yet she doesn’t even react. The wind enters: damp, chilly and fresh. It feels like New York. It feels refreshing.

 

I have 24 hours or so left on this trip…provided today is Saturday. Did I miss my flight? That would be uncharted territory for me. I started in France, flew to Germany, flew to Austria, took a bus to Bavaria – and then back to Austria – and flew to the UK. It’s been a month on the road and I just dread this part of the trip. The sadness that comes as it’s ending.

Why am I an actor? A writer? Producer? I know what I was getting myself into and yet it all seems so…odd, unfulfilling and shrouded in mystery. I wish I wanted to be a teacher or a doctor, maybe a lawyer but those careers never appealed to me. Maybe another office job? I’d rather slit my wrists – but I can recognize the stability in it all. I live a transient lifestyle. I’m a nomad – with a love of travel.

I love that I’m living my life on my own terms but I can’t say much of what I do is leading anywhere. It’s blunt, it’s direct and it’s the damned truth! It’s sobering. I’m still trying to figure this shit out. I should have it solved by now. I don’t – and I don’t feel close to capturing some clarity. Maybe it’s time to move…here.

One thing working in favor of London is that I don’t have to deal with a language barrier at all. Truthfully though, London is New York adjacent and I live in Los Angeles because it’s NOT the Big Apple. I love NYC but I don’t need it right now. It will always be home – and I will take up permanent residence there at some point but I need something else. Berlin blew my mind away and I can see living there. Paris surprised me too and I gave a lot of thought into calling the number I saw advertised a block away from the hostel for a vacant studio apartment. Salzburg is amazing but ultimately the locals will mistake me for a refugee. That’s an inside joke that none of you will get.

Rome. Which, if New York City is my wife, Rome is the girlfriend I’m falling for as I reach for the divorce paperwork; it’s that serious.

This needs to work out, this LA move. I know what I need to achieve in order to deem my time in the City of Angels a success and, currently, I am failing. It hurts. It frustrates me and it’s the major reason for my recent increase in migraine headaches. My insomnia has also been reactivated lately. Bullshit!

What’s the purpose of any of this? Maybe I should just pack up and move to Europe. It invigorates me. Just the thought forces my heart to beat loudly within my chest. However I know that at some point I’ll become restless and grow to hate my surroundings. Then what?

Who knows? I’ll probably get to Europe, love it temporarily, and then find myself looking for something else…somewhere else…in an infinite loop.

I don’t care to be a father or even a husband for that matter. I could be interested in a breathtaking fiancée – and travel the world together. I wonder if she’s single. Ugh…I should know that. Honestly that piece of information is irrelevant at the moment.

What am I doing? What have I done?

The rain intensifies as I eat a second bagel and stretch out, placing my feet on the chair with her dress. I spot a couple running towards a taxi while another runs to catch the bus in the hopes of escaping the downpour.

I don’t want to board that flight tomorrow. Yet I know I have to leave. It’s a quarter past eight which is too early in the morning to be waking up on vacation. (Or close to the time I arrived home on a few days while in Berlin!)

Absinthe. Sex. Women. Parties. Clubs. Festivals. Museums. Beer. New Friends. Hostels. Hotels. Apartments. Flights. Food. Culture. Euros. Pounds. Photographs. Dancing. Trains. Buses. Walking. Talking. Dancing. Kissing. Flying. Laughing. Sadness.

I crave the world. However the world wants to date other people.

There’s movement under the covers. I ignore it to stare into the sky. A groan. I breathe in the brisk air. She sucks her teeth. Seconds later her arm reaches for her phone – and I can see her sending a text. She then drops her phone onto the floor beside mine. I quietly fix her a cup of tea and bring her one of the bagels that someone paid for. I haven’t eaten a bagel since I was in the States and when I went to the market here, I bought salmon and chocolate chip cookies. She must have done this last night, I guess. I remember her attacking my face and biting my neck, hard.

Her toes peek out from under the soft blankets so I walk over and squeeze her big toe. She makes a weak attempt to kick me and I snicker.

Fuck off, Sean! Aren’t you tired?

After a brief chuckle I respond simply, “Yes, I am. I can’t sleep.”

As I placed her tea on the nightstand, she touched my leg with her hand and popped her head out. She cleared away all that thick, dark, luscious hair. Our eyes met, we both smiled and I motioned for her to sit up in the bed. She pressed her back against the headboard as I handed her the hot drink and the plate with the bagel.

Her piercing eyes followed me as I sat back at the table. I focused on the rain while she ate quickly, but with little noise. It was as if a hamster was nibbling on a treat. Cute.

She thanked me for breakfast and pulled the covers over herself. She mumbled, wondering if I was coming back to bed. I don’t recall giving her an answer. I wasn’t even sure of the day. Is it Friday morning? Sunday? Mid-week? Does she have a job? Or school? I hope she’s on holiday if that’s the case.

I want some of this shit to matter
I just want to stay awake
Thoughts varied and abundant like a succulent platter
This long journey is mine to take
I’m growing bitter
I’m confused
Keep trying to win
And yet I lose
Motivation waning
Feeling blue and abused
Life doesn’t want me to win
Burden drains my soul from within

She fell asleep. I clean a little. I got dressed and walked the neighborhood so I could feel the rain, the air. It’s my favorite weather, honestly. My phone’s upstairs; I’m not going back for it either. I better buy some headache medicine while I’m out here. I do.

I’ve got to go back to Los Angeles.

I return and she’s still asleep. What the fuck did we do last night? Besides have sex in the shower and the bed? I remember dancing and kissing – and I remember her hair in my mouth as we kissed. I see she pulled her hair into a ponytail while I was gone.

While urinating I realize that I haven’t showered so I undress to do so before taking the headache pills. I stink. As the steam begins to dominate the bathroom I open the window which gives me a glimpse of the neighborhood but more importantly the weather.

My life needs to make more sense than it currently does.

I sit in the bathtub and let the water glide down my back. I stand and lather myself with vanilla soap. Thunder booms in the sky above as the rain falls in full force. It’s loud, jarring and the pellets hit this window with the force of pebbles. I think I hear footsteps. Suddenly, lips on the back of my neck and another soft kiss on my cheek. Nails, gently but firmly, traverse my chest before they rub the soap into my skin.

A single, soft kiss.

Naturally I move her into the shower stream once I notice the prickling of her skin, goose bumps. I clean her skin, slowly, as we hold each other and I take my time as I lather her hips and butt. She rests her head on my left shoulder and exhales. We both stand beneath the water and wipe the soap away. She bites my neck, ravenously. Is she a damn vampire? We kiss intensely. I pull her hair, turn her towards the wall, trace her spine with my tongue and bite her ass as if I needed blood from it. She whimpered as she bit the inside of her fingers and then a sly smile formed across her face.

I have 24 hours before life begins again.

 

Travel Diaries
Part 1: France
Part 2: New York City (JFK)
Part 3: Berlin
Part 4: Salzburg Airport
Part 5: La Parrilla Steak Restaurant
Part 6: Salzburg Airport (Departure)
Part 7: Hostel
Part 8: Berlin Wall

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