Trying to put together many pieces of writing into some kind of new larger project but finding it impossible to get the pieces to fit. Especially all those ‘disillusioned with life while quoting sad pop music ones’ which I find myself writing all too often for anyone to benefit. All these random things I write, sometimes shifting from Swedish to English in the middle as I absentmindedly scribble something on a train or bus. Laura Marling sings ‘I speak because I can’ and I guess I write because I can.
My head is currently stuck in Morocco as I am finally reading Paul Bowles novel Let It Come Down which I spent my last money on at Casablanca International Airport this September. At Casablanca International Airport they famously do not sell any newspapers inside the terminal area. My dream of spending my last money on a series of English language newspapers thus came to a crushing halt. This information was given to me inside the terminal by a bored assistant in the perfume section of the duty free shop. I was only beginning to recover from nearly missing my flight because a janitor sent me the wrong way after the slow and warm train ride from the city. I found myself in an empty and soon to be demolished part of the airport with four minutes left before check in closed. Fortunately time is not of the essence in Morocco, even in the aviation industry, and even though no one was present at the Amsterdam check in the Brussels one made no fuss about sending me and my luggage on to Amsterdam with a smile.
Now, a good three months later, I find that the lack of newspapers was fortunate as Paul Bowles, who has connections to the beat poets in San Francisco, has written a very interesting book about the shady life in Tangier in the 1950s. One of the many characters, a large gin drinking American woman by the name of Eunice; a rich struggling writer that is permanently living in a hotel, makes the following observation on page 57:
Sexuality is primarily a matter of imagination, I am sure. People who live in warmer climates have very little of it, and so society there can allow a wide moral latitude in the customs. Here are the healthier personalities. In temperate regions it is quite a different matter. the imagination’s fertile activity must be curtailed by a strict code of sexual behavior which results in crime and depravity. Look at the great cities in the world. Almost all of them are in the temperate zone.
She writes this on the morning after having ended up in a shady bar where girls are sold to Spanish merchants. Here she found a young woman she liked and paid through the roof for her to come home with her.