I just heard the sharif calling the 4 am prayer.
(I think that's the word for the guy. He wails like a Honda passing me on the right)
I am lying, or rather, was lying in the couch area. My room has a sitting area that I can fall asleep in at the drop of a hat. I realize that I am alone. Its so quiet here within the walls of the riad. (riad is arabic/french for "huge mansion that I don't deserve but I put away for it so there.") The riad is enfortressed within the walls of the medina, the old part of Marrakech.
I got up for some water and climbed to the rooftop deck. I could see about 5 stars in the sky. All the riads are jammed together. As I hazily wiped my rest out of the corners of my eyes, I heard "Bon Soir, monsieur!" So I replied, "Bon Soir ou Asalaam Alekem!" The man was amused by my tepid French/Islamic greeting-"Walekem Salaam," he replied. And added-"Monsieur"
I fumbled-but I gotta use my Arabic- "Llabas?" And he replied "Llabas, allah or something that I didn't get from Frommer's.."

It was a swollen ten seconds or so, as we stared through the darkness and to stab the quiet, I said to him in french- The sky is blue, like the sea tonight isn't it? Yes he said, but the sea isn't always blue.
I made a motion to my heart and went back down the stairs to my room, stubbing my toe on one of the stairs, as always.
I have no real point to this just thought it was the most zen conversation I have ever had at 4 am with a man in a robe. Especially one on a rooftop in two different languages.

Last night I laid in bed from first prayer call to the morning prayer call. I closed both sets of doors to my room and stared hard at the ceiling. It is the darkest of darks with the doors shut. I cannot even make out the tumor of lights that is the chandelier. It reminds me of a hundred christmas tree lights jammed all together, like a hive.
I think about things. In this order.

1-How many pairs of socks do I have?
2-Should I call her? Should I stop contact. We live far apart. I hate flying.
3-Is there anything to drink besides water. I could almost drink a coke.
4-I miss Parker. I hope she is drinking milk in spite of her mother.
5-If I close the place up, its another failure. My people need these jobs. Why do I keep trying?
6-Morocco is insane. I like the mashup of Arabic and French cultures. I can hear someone hammering outside.
7-I took 4 showers today. Can I possibly take more tomorrow.
8-how can I make that snazzy tea that Saaid, our butler is making. I invited him and the two ladies who cook to eat with us but they refused.
9-what should I bring back for people? I think souvenirs are blasé. But what do I know. I live alone in a 3000 square foot house. And I have no room.
10-I hate my suburban. It belonged to a foo fighter. It could house about 10 people. (I didn't really like this thought) If I could sell it to someone, I would. Not for 4 dollars.
11-sometimes I cry for no reason. (welcome to emoville.) I cannot really follow that sentence. Maybe its age? Maybe I am realizing how few opportunities for greatness you get and maybe I have already taken mine. Is my window of greatness making hotel reservations for millionaires? If so, then I want a recount. Maybe my window closed ages ago and I don't know it. What if you were put here for all those years for one specific action- such as to delay someone from being in a a car accident or cooking a dish that makes someone sick and they fall in love with the doctor that takes care of them. Kinda like a bit part in an Altman film? Is that situational creationism? I.e. Being made for a long time for one specific action--like was I here for 30 odd years to find someone dead in a hotel room, revive them and move on...meaning, since that moment I was fabricated for has past, am I just in the waiting room. And no its not a morbid tip, mind you, its just a thought. One of those that you have in a bed in marrakech, alone. With no one to complain that you are snoring.

Today was a headache. I was down all day. My friends know that I get them from time to time. Not a big deal. Just a hassle. Luckily today it looked overcast and not too hot. I laid in bed and tried to manufacture interesting thoughts in my head, some mental exercise to sharpen the lobes.
I thought about kissing. I thought about the '79-80 Pittsburgh Steelers. I thought about my stepfather and how I hoped he was dead. I thought about chocolate pudding. I tried to give my dreams a push by starting a scenario where I went to someone's house to pick them up on a date, don't know who, but somehow I ended up drunk. It gets blurry after that. (the drunk part was made up by my head, without my help)..  ¶ 9:59 PM