I know some things. I can probably count them on my fingers, but who’s counting? I came upon these things on my travels, excursions, my various pilgrimages. I’ve been all over, but now I’m stuck here. I locked myself in here, and I don’t remember why, and I’ve lost the key to this door. Woe is me, right?! A man with all of this knowledge and knowing all these things and my prime form and I’m locked in from the inside. I keep my eyes closed most of the time, I can’t bear to look at all the white – the walls, the floor, everything – when my life was once so full of color – the pastels of Southern Europe, the greens of the Amazon, the polar blue of the arctic. Where did I put that key? Maybe if I open my eyes, I’ll have an easier time finding it , but I’ve looked for it before and it was nowhere to be found. It can’t be under anything; the room is empty. I don’t understand why I hid it in the first place. It makes no sense.

Let’s think about this logically. Where would I have hid it? When I was in Istanbul (reminder to listen to the song “Istanbul was Constantinople” when I get out, great song) I bought all that hashish. What kind of places did I hide my stash in? I had 20 grams under the toilet cover, in a plastic bag! I hollowed out my copy of Ethan Frome, and put 50 grams in there. I didn’t desecrate the novel! I had read it dozens of times before, and I’m sure Edith would have forgiven me! Forgive me Edith.

Okay so under the toilet and in a hollowed out book. Fuck! I forgot the room is empty. Wow, I was really crafty in hiding this key. Where could I have put it? Well it isn’t completely empty. There’s an paper cup. It’s so small, what could you fit in there besides a shot of tequila or a baby carrot? I love carrots, and shit, since I have some time here let me tell you about one of those nights I learned one of those things that I know. I was in Paris with Nat King Cole and you know, he smoked three four packs a day. He thought it was the cigarettes that gave him that beautiful voice. Whatever it was that gave him the voice, thank that thing because ooh, that voice, what could be more sexy, and I’ve only ever been with women, mind you, but I would have fucked that voice! But yea, so he’s smoking, I’m eating carrots and we’re drinking with these ladies at a bar. I’m trying to chat one of the girls up, telling her about my recent trip to Eastern Siberia, although I couldn’t hear a word of her reply, all my ears could hear was Cole’s voice on the other side of the table. Next thing you know, Cole is trying to light one of my baby carrots in his mouth! I almost choked laughing so hard. Cole died three years later from lung cancer. I still can’t eat baby carrots without smelling all that smoke.

Alright, so I got this cup, and nothing else. Where did I put the key? Is the door even locked? Yes I remember locking it myself. I can’t stand keeping my eyes open for this long. The white wall seems to shine every photon of light in this world in my direction – so bright. I’ll keep them closed for a while. What did I do today? My days used to be so unique. One morning I would wake up here, and the next day I would be way over there. I never sat still, and I always kept my eyes open, in hopes of seeing something that I hadn’t seen before. I woke up a few hours ago? A while ago. I have two cups in front of me. I could have sworn I counted one before. Somebody must have been in here to leave this. It can’t be. We would have interacted, spoken to one another, and if there were lucky I would have told them any of the things I know. So I have two small papers cups, and I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been asleep for days. This fucking key is probably right in front of my nose and I can’t even find it. Tomorrow I’ll find it.

So I have three paper cups. I’m a genius, only I could have hid this key so well.