I might have found some temporary answers to these problems. A road-movie is constructed out of a freer mold of experience than a travelogue. A travelogue takes its inspiration in narratives already well formed by the intensity of experience. I sit here writing, and at the same time I reread my mental stories about what happened to me this Summer. This means that what I am up to is in essence a rewrite .
Rewrites can be exciting, they can also be a real pain.
The taste of Campbell's asparagus soup with cold spaghetti lingers in my mouth. You see, having to get this finished by the day before yesterday even ruins my cooking abilities. I have already made some small corrections to the text as it offers itself to me in digital media, thus breaking the great gonzo journalism rule of writing fast and never doing rewrites. This brings me on to the question of censorship and the limits between what I have written about and what I have not written about. Memory only reproduces a piece of the past, and tells us about as much or as little as a photo album.