hahaha, i got all self righteous for a second this morning and was like goddammit i havent heard from you, but then i forgot i checked this email last night slightly (slightly) drunk. that murakami shit is funny.
so, last night i went with gab and my danish roommate, who from now on i will address by his real name, nis, to the sand dunes about 45 minutes south of valpo. we met up with two other gringos that are leaving today for the states, and one is really cool and one is really anal (that word will never not be funny to me), but he is still cool, he's just really buttholey. anyway, the kid was wigging out about getting sleep before his 22-hours-of-opportunistic-
they will eventually knock them down and put a couple more liders there.
back to the lights of valpo. the most christmasy i have felt was sitting on the dunes looking at the natural jetty that is the peninsula of valpo. the last time i saw valpo illuminated, i thought it was like a flourescent mound of brilliance, with a black blanket thrown over top, and pinholes poked all about to twinkle through the canvas, like a bio bio campo sky [out in the the country of where i taught]. now, the lights seemed like christmas lights to me (present-past-tense fallacy), and so i layed back over the summit and let my back crack on the soft sand/sharp decline.
there is this planet, which the anusy kid told me is either venus or saturn (and why is it either/or when there are a number in between? but i think i heard this before, so i am taking his word for it), that hung over the ocean and twinkled violently (those two words go cacophonously nice together) in the two-day-old-bruise-colored sky. the cooler kid kept looking at it, so i started looking at it, too. it seriously changed the faintest of colors, but was noticeable nonetheless, from cameraflashblue to cameraflashpink and back to cameraflashwhite again, over and over and over. an hour later, it disappeared. no one else thought it was that cool, that a planet could disappear. gab probably did, but i couldn't articulate it the way it seemed in my head to him, but at the same time, i can't really articulate a lot in my head. my brain right now feels like pink cobwebs with happy yellow spiders dancing eightleggedly, waiting for the flies to come.
there is this planet, which the anusy kid told me is either venus or saturn (and why is it either/or when there are a number in between? but i think i heard this before, so i am taking his word for it), that hung over the ocean and twinkled violently (those two words go cacophonously nice together) in the two-day-old-bruise-colored sky. the cooler kid kept looking at it, so i started looking at it, too. it seriously changed the faintest of colors, but was noticeable nonetheless, from cameraflashblue to cameraflashpink and back to cameraflashwhite again, over and over and over. an hour later, it disappeared. no one else thought it was that cool, that a planet could disappear. gab probably did, but i couldn't articulate it the way it seemed in my head to him, but at the same time, i can't really articulate a lot in my head. my brain right now feels like pink cobwebs with happy yellow spiders dancing eightleggedly, waiting for the flies to come.
i love the word jejune.
anyways, so we had to run down the dunes to catch a bus and each time my foot hit/power-slapped the sand, it seriously sunk in about halfway up my shins. but i just kept running, because it was so awesome. gab wouldnt take off his skateboard shoes and kept saying they were llena [full]. we ran down the dunes to catch the bus approaching in the distance, hopefully, because it may have been one of the last micros in operation. nis ran with two bags of trash that we had collected, i ran with a guitar and gab ran with skateboard shoes. we got on the bus, and nis ripped a cable wire that was attached to something on the bus and (which now i wish i knew what it was attached to, but last night was all 'meh' about it, BECAUSE HE) made a wirey little heart out of it and started taking pictures through it. he kept rubbing gab's head, too, which to me was hilarious because gab was so not overtly fuckyouish about it, but i could tell he thinks we are so strange.
then we made it home and i did my first ollie on gab's skateboard in probably ten years. i probably woke up whoever lives underneath of us but i will never see them anyways because their door is on the other side of the block, and besides, i am self-diagnosed with an acute disorder of selective dontgiveafuckness, and it comes and goes whenever i truly please.
hope all is well.
chao
21 december 2011
The water feels cool on my feet, my shins, as my watery leg hairs bouyantly dance a wiggly anenome dance of skin--I can't tell if each hair looks like it is trying to wriggle itself free, or dig itself in. My legs look detached from the knees down, as my jeans are rolled up like Tom Sawyer, if he were to ever wear jeans, and the water to the old pool feels cool on my legs, cool in the sense of cold jelly, as if I had just placed my legs in cold jelly and watched them detach. I sit as I always do, slumped, slouched and slack at the shoulders, just watching the alien white of my feet beneath me float in the old pool. It was an old pool. It had survived the winter, uncovered and untreated, and now on this fine spring morning, my feet were in it. It does not seem dirty, just natural, as natural as a cerulean abyss beneath can seem.
The sounds of Daisy Road: Birds, rustling leaves, car engines approaching and car engines leaving, a palpable, comforting quiet, a subtle melody of what we call everything. Sharp turns and fields, soy and corn and turf as green as unoxidized aortic blood, if the rich blood pumped through all of our wrists and temples could be green--voluptuous, verdant veins that turn to orange when we bleed--that kind of green. The smell of fertilizer and air stings and soothes. I think of sunlight in the sunlight. I think of purple.
There sat Jason next to me, his detached legs floating next to mine. He laid back onto the cracked concrete and said little. He said nothing. We were long, lost friends that had meandered in our own academic directions, marinating in curiosity and folly for the last two years, and now we had found ourselves here together with our feet in an old pool.
*****
today was interesting. as nis and i scaled the mountain on the bus, i watched a little boy sitting by himself. He was pretending to talk to somebody on an old phone. i asked him who he was talking to and he smiled and ran to the back of the bus. i looked out the window, at all the colors we pass in the street. as the bus climbs higher and higher, the colors start to turn brown, but with that, the view becomes nicer and nicer. it doesn't seem like a fair tradeoff that the people with the nicest view of the city of everything have the worst living conditions, but at least they have the view. as i continued looking out the window, the little boy ran back to me and tapped me on the shoulder. he was smiling and handed me a piece of candy. he said he was sorry but he didn't have one for nis. he gave me his only piece of candy? before he got off the bus, he looked at us, and in english, said "thank you." i watched him as he ran up a dirt road.
at the library today, when we walked in, it was reading time. there were three girls, and three boys, all beat up and broken, but beautiful. it's the way they look into my eyes with the charcoal colors of theirs. they are not sad, just worn--too worn for six year olds. i sat on the beanbag chair and greeted them with a, "cual caballero o caballera se gustarìa leer conmigo? [which gentlemen or gentlelady would like to read with me?]" Jericho, a compulsive drooler, but who has kind of become my homey, ran to me with his sandy black rattail bobbing and jumped onto my stomach. he wanted to read the book about the giraffe and the alligator, who can't quite seem to live together with such height differences.
another boy, pudgey and shaped like a bowling ball, waddled his way over to the bean bag also. he was wearing nis's santa clause hat and had blueish dirt all over his upper lip--i still don't know what it was. he sat on the other side of me and put his head on my chest while i read. i suck at reading in spanish, which puts their already-fleeting attention spans on the fritz, so they began to argue over who gets to turn the next page. i told them we are a family, and families share duties, and jericho can flip the first page and (what's your name buddy? alonso, okay cool. soy alexander) alonso can flip the second. it was fine.
alonso is an interesting character, and also has a drooling problem, much worse than jericho. i noticed that he doesn't quite have teeth either, just black shrapnel enamel that decends in an ugly row from his gums when he smiles. i also noticed his leg, which the entire quardricep was one grainy scar, and resembled a horrible burn. i asked him what happened and he ran away. nis told me his whole upper body and right leg were burned from hot water. no one knows how, or who needed that much hot water, but he is too young for anything that drastic. today i chased him around after reading time, because he wanted to put his hands on everything, which also meant seemingly-emphasimatic coughing on everything, too--a kid that young should not have a chronic cough like that. i asked him how old he was and he told me two. it will remain a mystery. either way, i showed him how to cough properly, into his shirt, which he took as a symbol to walk around and fake-cough all over everything, but even then, his fake-cough sounded like a veteran smoker. he grew a fancy for climbing on a chair and divebombing onto the bean bag. he was cute as his michelin man body structure would sprawl out in all the plushy red, and as he would have trouble climbing out of the dent, but i pictured him facediving into the bookshelf or a wall, so i had to tell him to stop. he wouldn't whine or cry like some kids when i tell them to stop, but he would laugh and get on the chair as fast as possible and jump again. he is also impossible to catch or pick up, because his 'dead-weight' center of gravity certainly works in his favor. i had to take the bean bag away from him.
as i was moving the bean bag to the back of the library, i was blocked by a leatherfaced woman pushing a stroller into the room. this gave alonso, and now jericho and the new kid, mario, an opportunity to dive simultaneously into my legs, that were somewhat near the dangling bean bag i was holding. i became dog piled in compulsive droolers, and nis had to help. the lady moved her stroller and i was able to get the bean bag to a safe place. she is a different story, but apparently one of the good mothers. her two year old daughter blatantly needed a diaper change, but that's just something we deal with. i could tell she loved her daughter, but her son mario has two huge scars going down the side of his face. the skin on her chest and shoulders seems so young, but her face looks like a deflated football, which makes me wonder about what vices may have lead to this premature aging. i watched her with her daughter, who she was seriously interested in, as she helped the little girl with a puzzle. neither of them could finish the puzzle, which is geared for 3 year olds.
along came alonso, again, who had brown paint all over his face. he had been painting a xmas tree, and smeared all the colors together. we washed off his face, and by that point it was time for him to go, because his hour and a half had been up. everyone seemed slightly relieved to have a break from alonso, and that is basically what had heeded, a break from nonstop chaos, but i cannot stop thinking about how he had put his head on my chest for reading time. he is always welcome.
22 deciembre 2011 1:27 am
okay so i guess ill try to keep this brief
i want to be the man that i gotta be
but you cant spell hip without hypocrisy
you cant spell cure without bureaucracy
i thought so hard that i forgot to breathe
now my brain's dead weight like a labatomy
connect the blind spot dots of the poverty
put a smile on my face and call it sovereignty
i grind the fine line between the bullshit and philosophy
lawfully spreading fabricated wisdom
wrongfully mixing it with nihilism
honestly i just planned my exorcism politician
no stoppin (probably) me in this existential prison
its a given that i aint from the streets
but i'm with it and im driven and livin on their lease
i play acoustically cuz i cant afford the beats
my mind's occupied like what they what they did with wall street
now i'm six feet deep but i think that's been my plan
i leave bigger aftershocks than they felt in japan
but at least i'm man enough to lend a firsthand hand
instead of supporting something with a facebook brand
kick the can is part of moving forward
the bottom of the barrel is our only reward
its absurd its the word on how to live your life
if you wanna be the pauper you still gotta pay the price
and maybe theres a melody we're all missing
maybe its ironic or we're too doped out to sing
just think just please think for yourself
you don't need brain cells of someone else
and fuck the structure and what they say
you cant get to point b without point a
***
the wind was strong today, and as i waited for the bus at the top of the mountain to return, i was digging sand and dirt out of my ears. the kids were cool today, even though luis took the hat that i had finally finished sewing. we made those chainlike paper cutout things and talked about things. ana, the lady in charge, asked if they had any idea who pinochet was [a dictator from the 70's to '89 who was responsible for the death or disappearences of over 80,000 people] and the children thought she was talking about pinnochio.
before the day at the library started, nis and i had arrived an hour early, and i hesitantly had brought my camera. i wanted to take pictures, so we decided to walk around the area for a bit. nis immediately became tentative as soon as we started walking, because he had been mugged and hospitalized (he was fine, just precautionary measures) three weeks after working there--in broad daylight and in front of mothers of the children who were attending the sessions. a little girl ran up to us and started to hang out, while we waited for ana and evelyn to arrive. she had to go home
23 December 2011
23 December 2011
1:05:1:46
Gab just woke me up with a quiet 'hey man, hey dude,' and then he said something else right after that. I was kind of already up, but kind of already asleep. Cachai? I was down for the count but I wasn't knocked out. I was in sleep mode but I wasn't actually asleep. The lights were off at least. I said something like 'what' and 'hey dude, hey man' but not all in that order. I wasn't exactly expecting him. He asked me if I was asleep, but I turned it into a fashionably intermediate 'I'm going to ask you if you are asking me what I think you are asking me' exchange. He was asking me if I was asleep. I asked him if he thought I was sleeping. So he kind of shrugged and repeated yes are you sleeping. So I tried to explain that I was not asleep, although it may have seemed like i could be, which just, I don't know, shows I couldn't figure out what to say about being ´kind of´ woken up , so I diarrhead out Español, and in the only awkward tense I am familiar with. He nods, but before he speaks more I ask him why is he asking me that, because by this point I am simply firing off Spanishes. He asks if I want to fumar. He brought some mowhawked kid back to help him with his equipment, and smoked us up on a prerolled j. nis came out and we smoked and I pretty much air-guitared, because Gab did us a big favor even when he was not coming through, which isn't even the right term because he has never been disappointing. What a cool dude.
They left shortly after that but he forgot his keys.
Then nis offered me a bag of chips but I declined because I knew he would be disappointed about not getting a chance to eat those chips later on.
When (switches 'i' to 'he') get (i-->he)s high, the high self looks at the sober self and thinks the sober self is trying too hard, but trying too hard is what life requires.
24 december 2011
00:19
today we made pasta and smoked pot after the dealer and i followed gab around the grocery while he decided what he wanted. he got tuna, switched what type of bread he wanted, twice, and a 6pack of heineken. then we walked to the line. the dealer, a cute girl who looked about thirty, and her hair cut fashionably nonsemetrical (though it worked for her squarish face), was a trooper about this meandering. gab, with items in hand, said he was disappointed (demaciado) in himself, because he didn't see the lines we would have to wait in. the moshpitlike crowd of people blocking pretty much the whole front of the grocery store, he didn't see them. so we followed him while he put things back.
the cute lopsided head girl rolled a joint and nis and his gf and i smoked it, while gab chilled. we ate pasta and now nis and i are sitting on gab's couch listening to him scratch indigenous boliviano folklore with a hiphop riff. nis is knitting, but not like a pussy. his girl passed out after geeking out at everything. it's good to let a person be themselves when they do geek, especially in the beginning of their tenure, and the end of mine. and golky just showed up.
at the biblioteca today, nis, his girl and i arrived and thought the place was closed. it wasn't. nothing really happened except i convinced grumpy jericho that i could pull ten-piece pesos out from behind his ears. i only had forty pesos on me, so i told him i only have a four coin magical limit. he kept the dough. ana worked with the girls while they sewed. she says its good for their concentration, and offers a reward, because, dammit, it's hard. daniela was a big help with the kids. i did a puzzle and discovered i was missing a piece.
pablo told me that santa clause died. when i asked him how, he responded in saying he drank too much cocacola.
it doesnt feel like tomorrow will be christmas. it never does anymore.
12:34
nis was knitting but not like a pussy
1:43 am
listening to 'straight to hell' by the clash. it is strong. they are better than the sex pistols and the ramones, because they are not one-dimensionally innovative. they experimented with dub and reggae, even not-too-bad pop, but never lost their punk identity. that is why, well, they are better. the police are an 80s revival of the clash, with their nasally, reggaely punk style, but less political (loose left-field thought). i guess what i am saying is that i'll take joe strummer any day, any nanosecond, and let's ride. give me vinyl. give me dim lighting, give me red and black wires exposed like the entrails of a ceiling. give me shady lime green, give my glossy black, give me faded flourescent tangerine. give me the dust and the shadows and the neon. give me stacatto, vibrato and the choppy flavor of what else it could be.
i will take it all.
5:12a kisdhr went to punk show with gab.
12:23
hacer vida. i am not doing anything with my life. i am doing something with it.
wrote something
6:33pm
today is the day before christmas and i decided to go to the hyper-commercial Jumbo to buy bathroom supplies. I enjoyed my long walk there, listening to my most treasured playlist, rockin´out and in one of nico´s pink and black flannel shirts he left behind. i was also wearing a grey baltimore orioles hat, with the late-90´s ornithogical bird on it. i kept flipping it backwards and forward and backwards. I need a haircut.
i got my super overpriced supplies and picked the seemingly shortest line, out of the 42 cashiers on duty. i was stuck behind two classic cases of shopping-for-the-monthers, they just kept putting more and more on the conveyer belt. they were slow with paying, and some items wouldn´t scan so they would need a price check, and we would stand and wait. while, i knew this wouldn´t be swift, i did not expect it to take that long. i was calm on the surface, but this situation had brewed up into a mean recipe for 2 of my most hated things to do--waiting in line, and buying condoms. i already knew i would have to deal with the security box being unlocked just to buy it, but now these slow people in front have taken so much time that THIS line is now collecting lots of people.
i don´t know why i get so flustered buying condoms--it´s a good thing, almost heroic--but it´s just so embarrassing to me. if they are behind a counter, i will go to a different gas station or groccery store. if i HAVE to buy them behind the counter, the first one the person points at, yeah that one is exactly what i wanted, never the curiously endearing vibrating kind, just the standard latex glove kind, yes please, let´s just do the purchase please... So yes, condoms, i have them and i am in line and a lot of people are now behind me and there is no turning back because i can´t find this blue listerene anywhere else, and even though this transaction is awkward as ever, i am going to buy these babies... just as soon as i get a chance because, god, i hate waiting in lines.
i decide to cope with my frustration, and face it head on. i take my mind off the line-waiting, and pull the big plasticy box out of my basket and begin to examine the box of ´doms. yeah, people, not only am i buying condoms, but i am reading about them, too. so i read about them.
i start to suspect that i have gone too far with this, so i put them back in the basket. that was strange of me, and did nothing for me getting over the awkwardness of it all. the lady in front of me was finally signing the check for her grocceries, and i started to put my contents on the conveyer belt, but this time i tried to cover the oversized box,under a pile of aji peppers.
it turns out that the cashier didn´t have the key, and so i waited, we all waited, for them to find the key to unlock the cs, my condoms, twelve little wishful-thinking wishes plasticly trapped in plastic, all mine.
blind me with something pretty is what you whispered in my ear
make it shinier than diamonds and shattered glass in sunlight mirrors
make me lovelier than train tracks and cobwebbed chandeliers
make it ever like a plane crash after all the ghosts appear
i wanna paint like picasso when all his bones grow old
i wanna hang like tomorrow watch time tick and explode
i wanna lay like the shadow of a city made in gold
together we shall be together alone
i´m told its somewhere out there so please don´t take me home
oh el dorado keep me whole
i drew a charcoal outline
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