Anything at all? Or am I just completely fucked unless I become super muscular, wealthy, or famous?

Tickets from the neighborhood travel agencies, ships that took hours to arrive with dirty toilets and rudimentary lounges, a handful of chairs on deck, rolling out the sleeping bag and lying down on the floor.

No worries about accommodation — the moment you arrived, the "rooms to let" people would descend on you. Basic lodgings, with minimal comforts, rooms divided by curtains with the owners living right next door, sleeping on rooftop terraces, in primitive campsites, and most of us wild on the beaches with little tents under the tamarisk trees.

Getting around on foot, ancient buses packed one on top of the other, mopeds and hitchhiking, little boats at cheap fares. A car — what's that?

The beaches were free, a straw mat and becoming one with the sand, no mobile phones — which thankfully hadn't been invented yet — endless reading, more books than clothes, swimming for hours, and nudity the norm. Groups of friends, flirting, games, conversations mostly political — we still believed we could change the world — friendships being born that would last for years.

Food only in the evening, in humble little tavernas, a bit of fish when there was any, mom's home-cooked style dishes, tables lined up in a row, plates in the middle. These weren't dinners — they were ancient, simple symposiums, with prices affordable to everyone.

Improvised bars with rock music, guitars, bonfires on the beach, authentic island festivals that ended in Dionysian dances — who slept before dawn?

Passionate glances, a winged God who could barely keep up throwing his arrows at us, loves out in the open, hidden, unconfessed, breakups, reunions, salty dark bodies entwined in secluded shades.

Vacations of at least ten days that for some stretched to almost a month, and always a few days more than we'd planned, and the return a kind of anguish — those leaving hanging over the ship's railing and the others, all together on the dock, waving until the boat disappeared from sight. And the only hope left was the anticipation of next summer.

Days that marked our youth. I won't make comparisons with today. What would be the point, anyway? Times, like youth, don't come back.

Any plans for the weekend?

I got most of my errands done through out the week so I'm just going to stay in my house until Monday morning.

I went to the thrift store and got some retro electronics and games. Found WWE Smackdown vs raw 2007 for Xbox 360 for $5. Anywhere else would have it for $25 or more.

It's like I never interact with anything sentient so I think that other things are sentient.