So the American economy's in bigger trouble than I thought?
And Bush is suddenly looking like a good guy?
We are so fucked.
September 25, 2008
September 23, 2008
Dinner At Ten O'Clock
I'm eating hot dogs and roasted potatoes and green beans with some kind of sauce (I forget what, but it's the only way I can stomach the greens), and it's half past. This reminds me of way back at the beginning of the year, when I lived in Dublin and didn't eat 'til ten or eleven. Some nights, especially during the film festival, I'd forget to eat before going out to the pub, or going out in general, which might explain why I was so intoxicated all the time. It's not that it was purposeful (my not eating), I really did just forget. It didn't seem that important, I guess, to eat dinner. So it goes.
The P's called an hour ago to see if I was still alive. Okay, not really, but they were interested in what was going on in my life. I told them I'm very busy (true), and that the next 48 hours are going to be even busier (also true). This is really my own fault, you see, because already I'm fucking up (as I'm wont to do) and not setting my priorities straight. Case-in-point: last night, when I decided it was more important to hang out in the blogosphere than cut myself some slack and do work I knew I'd want to kill myself over tonight. To be fair, it's been a while since I've perused the world of music blogs, so I suppose I could argue that I earned it? Meanwhile, I'm now minutes away from drinking a cup of Irish breakfast tea so I can spend the night writing a poem, critiquing three others, reading a chapter of my comic theory book, and perhaps, if I have time, reading Rebecca Kraatz's House of Sugar and parts of Adam Zagajewski's poetry collection Mysticism For Beginners. But I might forsake the last two and journal for Malcolm so I'm not doing the majority of that and reading 60 pages of film theory/history tomorrow night (especially not when I won't be able to start my work until half ten, at the earliest). Oh, and at some point I have to make photocopies of stories and an entire chapter from an anthropological book by Paul Auster (the title escapes me) for Nelly.
Basically, what this all means is, I win. Full stop.
On the plus side, I went to the gym tonight and, as I observed when talking to the P's, I'm not altogether feeling good while working out, but I feel like I'm getting to that point. Which is a very positive thing. My muscles are coming back, I think, and if I continue to make friends with the elliptical machine, I just might shed a few pounds! I rowed too, which I haven't done in a while, and it was by far the best part of my workout.
Rang Ireland earlier, which resulted in much happiness. It's always nice to hear welcome voices. Also: distance ain't got nothin' on banter. Just sayin'.
The P's called an hour ago to see if I was still alive. Okay, not really, but they were interested in what was going on in my life. I told them I'm very busy (true), and that the next 48 hours are going to be even busier (also true). This is really my own fault, you see, because already I'm fucking up (as I'm wont to do) and not setting my priorities straight. Case-in-point: last night, when I decided it was more important to hang out in the blogosphere than cut myself some slack and do work I knew I'd want to kill myself over tonight. To be fair, it's been a while since I've perused the world of music blogs, so I suppose I could argue that I earned it? Meanwhile, I'm now minutes away from drinking a cup of Irish breakfast tea so I can spend the night writing a poem, critiquing three others, reading a chapter of my comic theory book, and perhaps, if I have time, reading Rebecca Kraatz's House of Sugar and parts of Adam Zagajewski's poetry collection Mysticism For Beginners. But I might forsake the last two and journal for Malcolm so I'm not doing the majority of that and reading 60 pages of film theory/history tomorrow night (especially not when I won't be able to start my work until half ten, at the earliest). Oh, and at some point I have to make photocopies of stories and an entire chapter from an anthropological book by Paul Auster (the title escapes me) for Nelly.
Basically, what this all means is, I win. Full stop.
On the plus side, I went to the gym tonight and, as I observed when talking to the P's, I'm not altogether feeling good while working out, but I feel like I'm getting to that point. Which is a very positive thing. My muscles are coming back, I think, and if I continue to make friends with the elliptical machine, I just might shed a few pounds! I rowed too, which I haven't done in a while, and it was by far the best part of my workout.
Rang Ireland earlier, which resulted in much happiness. It's always nice to hear welcome voices. Also: distance ain't got nothin' on banter. Just sayin'.
September 22, 2008
In Which I Am Somehow Productive
Despite spending literally all day in my room (with the exception of the two times I left to go to the bathroom), during which I had an eight-hour online conversation (!), I still managed to write up a page of preliminary planning notes for a team meeting I'm spearheading on Thursday, two pages of notes for a core staff meeting I'm attending tomorrow morning, send out a formal team meeting invite to fourteen individuals I've never met in my life, create a Facebook group devoted to my section of the Sadie Lou magazine, and ride around in the student shuttle for an hour with driver and buddy Nick.
Additionally: I failed to call the P's today, and didn't go to the shop to buy milk and eggs and cereal, three things I kind of need. Whoops.
And now I'm going to bed and I'm going to get less than 6 hours of sleep, which is just irresponsible on my part.
Did I mention how I'm kind of falling apart physically, yet coming together intellectually at the same time? It's really exciting.
Oh, and I was hired by Sadie Lou, which is kind of the bee's knees.
The end!
Additionally: I failed to call the P's today, and didn't go to the shop to buy milk and eggs and cereal, three things I kind of need. Whoops.
And now I'm going to bed and I'm going to get less than 6 hours of sleep, which is just irresponsible on my part.
Did I mention how I'm kind of falling apart physically, yet coming together intellectually at the same time? It's really exciting.
Oh, and I was hired by Sadie Lou, which is kind of the bee's knees.
The end!
September 20, 2008
And The Volume Is Deafening
Noise. That is the first thing I noticed. How utterly loud it is here. How people open their mouths wide and just release all this sound, talk just because they can, or talk to make sure they still can. It's nonsense, the words. Most of the time, it's like the real-life version of Peanuts. I'm somewhere and I'm trying to relax my mind and there is just so much wah wah wah wah wahing. And the worst part, the absolute worst part is I can't do a damn thing about it. I could scream. I could shout, "Shut up shut up SHUT THE FUCK UP!" but then I would be just like them, using all four corners of my mouth, wahing into infinity.
I'm upset. And people here are upset with me. I think. But quietly. Silently. I get the impression they're sick of hearing me go on and on about Dublin. About how I wish I was there instead of here. About how unhappy I am. This guy I went to college with, Drew, he's doing this amazing thing where he's decided to say to hell with the working world for a while, let's travel! He's keeping a blog about the whole experience. It's pretty incredible and inspiring. All day, I've been thinking about him, and how he's doing this thing that is making him happy, and I've been thinking, yes, yes, I need to do that, need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, need to be happy. Because it's true: I was a lot happier in Ireland. I had a bigger smile on my face. And yes, it was hard at times living on pasta and peanut butter and slices of bread, and watching my bank account deplete at such an alarming rate. But, at the same time, it was worth it, because spending eight months there did more things for my psyche and my emotional well-being and my ability to function as a human than most things in recent memory. And okay, yes, I had a very bad, no-good, horrible day. But that was one out of what? I don't even know. Plenty. And it used to be where I'd have a string of those days, just lie around in bed and cry and feel like I was going to suffocate and if I moved my body would crumple and I'd die (this is all true, I really did feel like this). But being there...one day out of over two-hundred? That is something. So I need to go back, because I can feel it, the weight, pulling me down again, and I don't want to regress. Toward the end of my time in Dublin, I expressed to my cousin the fear that this would happen, and she, in essence, told me to revel in the fact that I've gained new perspective, and I can now look at things and say, "It doesn't have to be like this." But I think, because environment is everything, I'm going to have to switch again in order to make things right.
I need to learn how to bend the space-time continuum. I need to focus.
I'm upset. And people here are upset with me. I think. But quietly. Silently. I get the impression they're sick of hearing me go on and on about Dublin. About how I wish I was there instead of here. About how unhappy I am. This guy I went to college with, Drew, he's doing this amazing thing where he's decided to say to hell with the working world for a while, let's travel! He's keeping a blog about the whole experience. It's pretty incredible and inspiring. All day, I've been thinking about him, and how he's doing this thing that is making him happy, and I've been thinking, yes, yes, I need to do that, need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, need to be happy. Because it's true: I was a lot happier in Ireland. I had a bigger smile on my face. And yes, it was hard at times living on pasta and peanut butter and slices of bread, and watching my bank account deplete at such an alarming rate. But, at the same time, it was worth it, because spending eight months there did more things for my psyche and my emotional well-being and my ability to function as a human than most things in recent memory. And okay, yes, I had a very bad, no-good, horrible day. But that was one out of what? I don't even know. Plenty. And it used to be where I'd have a string of those days, just lie around in bed and cry and feel like I was going to suffocate and if I moved my body would crumple and I'd die (this is all true, I really did feel like this). But being there...one day out of over two-hundred? That is something. So I need to go back, because I can feel it, the weight, pulling me down again, and I don't want to regress. Toward the end of my time in Dublin, I expressed to my cousin the fear that this would happen, and she, in essence, told me to revel in the fact that I've gained new perspective, and I can now look at things and say, "It doesn't have to be like this." But I think, because environment is everything, I'm going to have to switch again in order to make things right.
I need to learn how to bend the space-time continuum. I need to focus.
September 18, 2008
The Other Part of The Day
Tonight, the gym was almost empty. It felt nice to go in and listen to nothing except the dull hum of the front desk workers' speech, and then to my iPod, to walk on the treadmill and think everything was just so. But then I switched to biking and everything ended. The peace and calm of the room was interrupted by a party of boys, lots of them, coming in fist-bumping and making noises that made me want to spit. They emulated the kind of behavior a gay guy I know emulates when he's pretending to be straight. They sounded like bears. I wanted to scream at them for turning my well-deserved workout time into an opportunity to witness, first-hand, why we don't have actual fraternities at Sarah Lawrence. I wanted to cry.
But I completed my workout--so many more filed in after that, it was really all over--and left.
Then I made sticky teriyaki rice with apple sausage and banana, took a shower, and felt much better about everything.
Now I am going to the library to return some videotapes. (And by videotapes, I mean DVDs.)
But I completed my workout--so many more filed in after that, it was really all over--and left.
Then I made sticky teriyaki rice with apple sausage and banana, took a shower, and felt much better about everything.
Now I am going to the library to return some videotapes. (And by videotapes, I mean DVDs.)
September 16, 2008
With A Bullet
Some things that have happened over the past few days:
-my independent study proposal ('End Scene Fade': The Cinema and Its Influence on Fiction Writing) was accepted, which means everything's coming into place
-made a collage based on Dorothy Parker's poem "Resumé," an oldie but a goody (pictures forthcoming)
-attended the Teahaus grand opening and got to see my friend Chris perform, which is always lovely; he's the one who introduced me to The Frames and his passion for folk music, poetry, and the good things in life brings light...he also has a new band
-cooked French toast for the first time; infusing it with cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and vanilla was a good idea
-had my interview for Sadie Lou, which went well
-finally watched some Cassavetes films
-talked to my mom (and various other people) about how I'm getting out of here once I graduate
-hung out and drank and discussed computer geek stuff
-hung out and did not drink and read up on comic (as in 'book') theory
-reunited, albeit briefly with the kids from my Dublin program at one of their apartments in Alphabet City
-wrote a coherent text message of epic proportions despite the fact that I was pretty much off my face
Oh, and David Foster Wallace decided the world wasn't worth living in anymore. I don't know how I feel about this. On one hand, I never saw the man read. Never read his work, save for some excerpts from Brief Interviews With Hideous Men (my mom, much more of a reader than me, made her way through Infinite Jest--or tried to, anyway). Never really investigated who he was or what he stood for in the writing community at large. But, on the other hand, it's always a bit jarring when someone artistic dies, especially someone who is young and has paved some sort of path within his or her medium, despite being young. I know some up-and-coming writers who emulated his work, who looked up to him like he was next to sliced bread on the "best things" list. I feel mostly for them. When Sarah Kane also decided the world was too unwelcoming a place to thrive in any longer, I felt the blow. And I continue to feel that every time I go back and reread one of her plays , or see one of the pieces performed. She's not going to create anymore. This person who I consider to be one of the most influential artists in my own life can only inspire me so much. There are limitations. I have to be thankful for what I have. So, yes, I understand. It's sad, but more so a shame. Because I'm sure David Foster Wallace is just as good and radical and eye-opening as everyone's saying. The hard part will be using the past tense from now on.
-my independent study proposal ('End Scene Fade': The Cinema and Its Influence on Fiction Writing) was accepted, which means everything's coming into place
-made a collage based on Dorothy Parker's poem "Resumé," an oldie but a goody (pictures forthcoming)
-attended the Teahaus grand opening and got to see my friend Chris perform, which is always lovely; he's the one who introduced me to The Frames and his passion for folk music, poetry, and the good things in life brings light...he also has a new band
-cooked French toast for the first time; infusing it with cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and vanilla was a good idea
-had my interview for Sadie Lou, which went well
-finally watched some Cassavetes films
-talked to my mom (and various other people) about how I'm getting out of here once I graduate
-hung out and drank and discussed computer geek stuff
-hung out and did not drink and read up on comic (as in 'book') theory
-reunited, albeit briefly with the kids from my Dublin program at one of their apartments in Alphabet City
-wrote a coherent text message of epic proportions despite the fact that I was pretty much off my face
Oh, and David Foster Wallace decided the world wasn't worth living in anymore. I don't know how I feel about this. On one hand, I never saw the man read. Never read his work, save for some excerpts from Brief Interviews With Hideous Men (my mom, much more of a reader than me, made her way through Infinite Jest--or tried to, anyway). Never really investigated who he was or what he stood for in the writing community at large. But, on the other hand, it's always a bit jarring when someone artistic dies, especially someone who is young and has paved some sort of path within his or her medium, despite being young. I know some up-and-coming writers who emulated his work, who looked up to him like he was next to sliced bread on the "best things" list. I feel mostly for them. When Sarah Kane also decided the world was too unwelcoming a place to thrive in any longer, I felt the blow. And I continue to feel that every time I go back and reread one of her plays , or see one of the pieces performed. She's not going to create anymore. This person who I consider to be one of the most influential artists in my own life can only inspire me so much. There are limitations. I have to be thankful for what I have. So, yes, I understand. It's sad, but more so a shame. Because I'm sure David Foster Wallace is just as good and radical and eye-opening as everyone's saying. The hard part will be using the past tense from now on.
September 15, 2008
Limitations!
I can't seem to get the hang of this. I've been blogging for years, but for some reason, every time I sign onto Blogger, my mind goes blank. I have nothing to say. Blah blah blah. Maybe my life just isn't interesting anymore. Maybe nothing's worth sharing. I tell people things. Lots of things. I tell the people who need to know or care to know what they need to know or care to know. I do this in person or on the phone or by text. I answer questions. I'm not shy. But give me a blank canvas and...nope, can't do it.
September 8, 2008
Life Right Now
In the past week, I have:
-moved back to Sarah Lawrence
-mostly moved into my room (there are still things to be unpacked and walls to decorate and boxes lying around)
-helped plan/coordinate/run/publicize/host this year's Orientation Cabaret with my friend Nevan (it was last night and it was a success)
-registered for and managed not to get bumped from my classes (History of Experimental Film and Poetry & The Graphic Novel; my independent study about film's influence on fiction writing is still pending)
-hung out with a lot of people
-wondered who the hell everyone else was (also: the first-years are all '90s babies...conceptually bizarre!)
-missed Dublin an incalculable amount
-also missed certain individuals an incalculable amount
-decided I am definitely applying to Trinity for grad school
-rang Ireland without paying a cent
-finally bought groceries/goodness from Trader Joe's
-cooked bangers n' mash
-high-fived a skateboarder while he rolled past
-ate apple crumble with my new housemates and watched/yelled during Sarah Palin's nomination acceptance speech
-ate falafel with my cousins and their friends and watched/yelled during McCain's nomination acceptance speech
-hustled through hurricane fringe weather (i.e. torrential, flooding rain) in flip flops and a white t-shirt
-been okay with things, most of the time
In the current week, I will:
-blog more
-go to my first week of classes
-finish and turn in my independent study proposal
-meet new people
-cook more
-spend less money on delivered food
-go to the gym (at some point, at least once)
-fulfill my first assignment as my former writing professor/current independent study adviser Nelly Reifler's new research assistant (basically, this entails making copies of short stories for one of the coolest people I know)
-watch some films
-start watching the first three seasons of Lost
-ride in the student shuttle with my friend Nick and whoever else he decides should tag along
-embark on my goal to have fun this year
Also, soon I will learn the fate of my position with this project.
Despite everything, my life is really not that exciting. Really. Honest.
-moved back to Sarah Lawrence
-mostly moved into my room (there are still things to be unpacked and walls to decorate and boxes lying around)
-helped plan/coordinate/run/publicize/host this year's Orientation Cabaret with my friend Nevan (it was last night and it was a success)
-registered for and managed not to get bumped from my classes (History of Experimental Film and Poetry & The Graphic Novel; my independent study about film's influence on fiction writing is still pending)
-hung out with a lot of people
-wondered who the hell everyone else was (also: the first-years are all '90s babies...conceptually bizarre!)
-missed Dublin an incalculable amount
-also missed certain individuals an incalculable amount
-decided I am definitely applying to Trinity for grad school
-rang Ireland without paying a cent
-finally bought groceries/goodness from Trader Joe's
-cooked bangers n' mash
-high-fived a skateboarder while he rolled past
-ate apple crumble with my new housemates and watched/yelled during Sarah Palin's nomination acceptance speech
-ate falafel with my cousins and their friends and watched/yelled during McCain's nomination acceptance speech
-hustled through hurricane fringe weather (i.e. torrential, flooding rain) in flip flops and a white t-shirt
-been okay with things, most of the time
In the current week, I will:
-blog more
-go to my first week of classes
-finish and turn in my independent study proposal
-meet new people
-cook more
-spend less money on delivered food
-go to the gym (at some point, at least once)
-fulfill my first assignment as my former writing professor/current independent study adviser Nelly Reifler's new research assistant (basically, this entails making copies of short stories for one of the coolest people I know)
-watch some films
-start watching the first three seasons of Lost
-ride in the student shuttle with my friend Nick and whoever else he decides should tag along
-embark on my goal to have fun this year
Also, soon I will learn the fate of my position with this project.
Despite everything, my life is really not that exciting. Really. Honest.
September 5, 2008
It's Been A While...
Lately, I've been trying to update this thing and it just won't happen. I don't know what it is. Well, okay, that's a lie, I do, but it's hard to explain. I'm back in the States (back in New York, in fact) and things have been really great and I think everything's going to explode into goodness soon, but that doesn't diminish the fact that I miss Dublin in this completely intangible way. I've been trying to distract myself, but no matter what I do (and I've been doing a lot), it all comes back. Maybe it's the noise. It's so noisy here. And not even in a literal way--things aren't exactly loud--but there's just way too much hustle and bustle and my brain is refusing (resisting?) computation. And people, they are anxious. And I look around and I see all this stuff and I just want to feel like I did when I wasn't taking anything for granted, because I couldn't afford to (and that's literal). I guess what I'm trying to say is, maybe I'll learn to love it again and maybe I won't, but I sure as hell am getting the fuck out of the country if John McCain wins the election, because he and his VPILF scare the living daylights out of me. When faced with the prospect of the two of them running our country, I am all deer-in-the-headlights. My eyes are wide, and I see the accident waiting to happen, but I don't do anything, because my body won't let me, and I am stuck. Our country's really going to take a nasty nose dive if the Republicans take office again. Bonus points to Sarah Palin for having the cutest daughter ever, though. That kid is going to grow up and either be a big lying bitch like her mommy, or rebel and wind up a disowned lesbian in a rock band or something. Piper has truly been an inspiration these past 24 hours!
August 22, 2008
Last Evenings on Earth
This is it. The last 24 hours. The end.
Last night, a lot of people asked me how I felt. To this I replied, "Not good. But I'm trying not to think about it."
It's like having a bad taste in my mouth, knowing this is the last day. I want to wash it out. And never leave.
Last night, a lot of people asked me how I felt. To this I replied, "Not good. But I'm trying not to think about it."
It's like having a bad taste in my mouth, knowing this is the last day. I want to wash it out. And never leave.
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