I told myself that I’d sit here and write about how Gothic and Stuck In Time Prague was–how it displayed to me an incandescence like no other city I’ve visited to date. That Prague was dark, mysterious; a old-world city topped by only Rome on that front and with the ghost of communism still filtering through its thick, thick morning mists–all conjured within the aesthetic confines of Bedřich Smetana’s Má Vlast Moldau. And I could–I could do that, I suppose. But right now I’m too caught up in Eminem’s Marshall Mathers LP 2 to write about Prague–which I say to bring up a bigger point:
Prague was Prague–it took place in my life within the hours of the days thursday the 14th of November through the latter sunday–and then I flew back. I paid the ticket, wrapped the collar of my peacoat around my neck and embraced a pocket of time in the steady length of my lifespan. Now it’s just a memory. A vivid one, yes, but optionally mine to keep. The special things I have to say about Prague are absurd things (see Snow Globes at Hyde Park), they are disturbingly subjective and wouldn’t make sense on paper; that, and I fear publicizing them could only tarnish their reputation still throbbing fairly valiantly in my skull. So, in short, I’m being selfish. But at a slightly more generous length, what I’m trying to do here is listen to Eminem in peace, because Prague is a thing of the past for me, and I’ve pocketed several subtle elements for a future narrative at best.
I do have one thing to put down here for my reader though:
If you’re curious about visiting a place that displays itself as some rare form of destination in your mind, then go. Worry about money later and just go. It sounds backwards, I know this–but it’s always easier to say no, and money is replaceable. Spontaneity is not. Go to Prague, reader. Go ahead: buy the ticket, take the ride, drink absinthe and eat cheap beef stroganoff. Look at their beggars, look at how they compose themselves, look at the sooty medieval-ness of the architecture suspend its place in time; the charisma. Do these things and you will change. I can’t tell you how, because, well, your chemistry is different than mine; but I can guarantee that a first hand slap from the Czech Republic will do more for your character than reading this travel blog. . . now back to Rap God.