surprise sometimes will come around

so i was bed ridden trying to recuperate from my cold, watching HBO. and an advertisement for Big Love came on and it used Interpol’s Untitled. god i forgot how much i love that song, man, how much i love turn on the bright lights. its been ages since i’ve spent a good amount of time listening to interpol.

anyway, so hearing that song on tv, i was inspired to make it the topic for this post. little did i know that we’d have such a spike in readership! Gah! Insanity! other people have checked out our blog. erhm, i guess thats the idea of putting it out there–to share. but i’m not going to lie, second to being amazed, i felt embarrassed. never did i imagine that we’d get that sort of exposure, i mean, we’ve been in a lot of instances, pretty candid.

but anyway, a lot of my embarrassment really came from a feeling that entry was not so good.  on another day i had spent good time writing out on paper what i wanted to post, but me being me, i forgot my notebook at home. and i was so anxious to get the news out to you, that i just quickly wrote something up.

all that being said, to answer your question, no, i don’t think that we should change how we approach this. i think that what happened yesterday was the exception rather than the rule.  it happened because a blog that blogs about dc featured that entry on their website, probably because i talked about adams morgan or whatever… and just because my entry was the one that attracted them to the site, definitely does not necessitate that they didn’t read yours.  nor does it make your posts less amazing.  i seriously love what we are doing here, and i dont think that we should change it, one bit.  i thought that your last post was very fantastic in giving insight to whats happening to you over there; in documenting your state of mind. and that was what you precisely set out to do.  frankly, i think that, if anything, we should be inspired to be even more open in our entries. surely its scary to put yourself out there so much, but i find myself really attracted to that rush. what do you think?

moving on to other matters…

right now im at my home away from home, it’s really embarrassing how often i’m in this place, that is, im at chinatown coffee co. i’m addicted to their coffee.  and last night i went to the pixies concert. it was good, but i wish you were there. i mean, really i was there for you. seriously for i moment i felt that it was really unfair that you weren’t there, i had a pretty awesome seat. it was so 90s hahaha, thats your decade, not mine. i couldn’t help but feeling like i didnt really belong there. it all felt really american.  aside from that, they played a solid show, they sounded really good, and there was a girl dancing like a zombie having a seizure. it would have been a better show at a smaller setting, why couldn’t they have been like sonic youth and played at the 930?

oh man, now i feel like there is a pressure to write something insightful and meaningful. but theres nothing here. after last week’s, erhm, “enlightenment” i have felt myself take steps to do what i’ve set out to do. i’ve written a few cover letters, today’s mission is to edit them and send them out.

on the man hunt front, there’s nothing to be said. yet. not many opportunities have presented themselves (who am i kidding, by not many, i just mean none), but i feel a new confidence. its more like a new indifference; i don’t find myself so constantly worried to appear appealing to the opposite sex, i don’t know how to describe it, but it almost feels like the pressure is off.

i love this coffee house, they make the best lattes, and now they are playing the new ANCO ep.

ooh, now i have the feeling that the my brookland house mates don’t love me so much anymore. well, i should have moved out today, but because i was sick on sunday and it was raining, i really just didn’t have the energy to rent a truck. so i’m in an awkward situation with them, and you know how they are, kinda passive aggressive, they haven’t said anything to me, and i have talked to diego, but still i feel like an intruder now. i hate that i have to move out. i have actually become very fond of brookland, in its residential yet thug life way. i’m going to miss the house, i think mostly because it’s not living with my mom, and anything is better than potomac.

anyway, not that i’m passively waiting for something to happen, but i think its good to keep in mind that we never really know what the universe will throw at us.

i really miss you

nanda

see, i do communicate with people besides myself

well we just finished talking on gchat and i simultaneously finished writing a letter to my good friend elliot, who i met while studying in berlin.  i knew him for barely four months back in 2007, saw him once more the summer of 2008 in san francisco for an hour-long coffee chat (we were both there to see radiohead), and haven’t laid eyes on him or heard his voice since.  still, i feel surprisingly close to him.  we manage to write and give updates every so often, more so now that we’re both living in europe.  right now in this moment i feel like, i don’t know, i love him.  i often think of him when wondering about who’s out there in the ether for me to feel close to, and his mere existence supports the nature of my own.  you’re a lot like that too, fernanda.

on my end, i want this blog to be a continual record not just of what i’m doing, but also of the various moods i’m experiencing.  sometimes it feels hard to translate a mood into real words that others will read and process and interpret, and it’s that fear of doing it badly that makes me question any authenticity i may have as a writer.  also, sometimes i wonder if my mood always sounds the same when we talk.  so, on that note, i thought i might post the letter i just wrote him.  this is part-laziness, part-desire to document where my head was at an hour ago.  i mean, there’s really nothing new in there that you haven’t heard before, but it seems significant that the thoughts be included in the blog and not just there in some internet chat conversation.  also, it felt like i was blogging while writing it, so it’s inclusion here doesn’t seem that stupid.

thanks for the message hare hoffman, your messages inspire me and depress me and humor me all at once — definitely the sign of a great writer and, let’s be honest, a great MAN. my birthday is this thursday and it occurred to me that it’s been almost two years since i had that party at my host family’s apartment in wilmersdorf. do you remember? i think you ended up getting really drunk at the bar later and lost a bunch of your shit. oh elliot. so, two years… fuck me. i looked at photos of that night on facebook today and i stare at my face and wonder, is that me? am i the same person? is my brain bigger or smaller now? have i gotten closer to the tootsie roll or have i changed flavors all together? i am filled with a desire to return to that brain there, the one that was perhaps a bit more innocent, a bit less weathered, a bit more idealistic about the future. she had no idea what kinds of things would come into her life and change it, fuck with it, make it better and more inquisitive and yet leave her feeling smaller in the world she now recognizes as oh-so-big.

perhaps we are indeed of that breed you described, a kind that needs reflection and analysis, needs SIGNIFICANCE. i spent the last three years engaging in the world in that way and placing a big fat blue ribbon on my brain for it. but lately, since coming to athens, i can’t help but wonder if it isn’t more of a detriment and a crutch than a means to some sense of connectivity to the world and humanity. what if the filter is more like a shield? what if we lose something integral in the processing stage? what if we become something else more like ourselves when we stop observing and dialoguing and talking all the fucking time?

would i even recognize myself?

athens continues to throw me into this sort of existential mindfucking on a regular basis. every day feels pivotal, like today will finally be the day i become a DO-ER and not a TALKER. adulthood is a tricky thing i gotta say. i have all the freedom in the world, especially now with the institutional and financial support of the fulbright, to do whatever i want, to make the most of it, and to create something out of the opportunities that seem to constantly manifest themselves in front of me. gotta take it in, gotta document it, gotta be grateful, gotta make moves, gotta lay the groundwork for what’s next, gotta engage, gotta be present, stop thinking, stop thinking, start doing. there are no more rules, so what the fuck are you doing inside?

planned to write a short novel in the month of november. i guess that means i have two and a half days to write a short novel.

i’ve taken a greek lover. he’s amazing, and together we feel nation-less, gender-less, language-less. he’s mentioned the l-word.  bad news: he has a girlfriend. what the fuck am i doing. actively going down the wrong path and becoming a mockery of myself and any values i had. good thing i never thought i had any values.

i wonder if you’ll ever tell me something concrete about what you’re doing. i wish i knew where you were out there in germany (like, which city?) and what your life looks like. have you visited berlin since you left that sad day almost two years ago? did i ever tell you that i wept a little when i turned around and walked away from you after we took one final walk? i remember constantly touting the importance of honesty back then, so there it is. i think i’ve mentioned that i’ve been dying to go back there, as i think the place would have more meaning to me now in light of some newer-found interests, but i don’t know when that will happen. definitely in 2010 though. definitely before i go home.

what are you doing for the holidays?

happy thanksgiving, elliot schmelliot.

take care,
delicious Ash-mo-mashed potatoes

still listening to the fuck buttons.  more like the fuck-yeah buttons.

GERTIE

holy scheisse

i’m in total amazement and disbelief.  more to come soon.  just had to report that i read this, and, wow, you inspire me.  can’t wait to see photos and hear more details.  i loved that entry.  i could just imagine you walking with total purpose towards that parlor as blood rushes to your enormous, enlarged cajones.  that’s one step towards getting it big time.  damn.

oh also, i just texted nikos and he said “PHEW she spelled it correctly!” yay!  i wanna see the greek handwriting as well.

I’m no fucking Buddhist, but this is enlightenment

Gertie, i think that maybe once again you may be being too harsh on yourself. true, we do have a tendency to screw ourselves over, and being that i’m from the same fabric, i know that there is little that i can say to make you think otherwise. but lets do a quick tabulation which will prove that you are in fact not a failure.

– you have a fulbright
– a true failed blogger would not blog anymore. sporadic posts are posts nonetheless.
– you are soldiering on with your teaching, i mean, lets face it, its not easy man.
– you are now having a hot affair–whatever yea, there are many issues with it and what not. but just don’t forget to have fun.  dude, you are totally having a hot affair in greece, enjoy it! Throw caution to the wind,  getting hurt feels good sometimes.
– and finally, and you know that i know this all too well, but old habits die hard. give yourself a break. at least you are aware that you are doing the things that you don’t want to do it anymore. that is a step closer to reform.

Oh and about those roommates of yours… i say dont worry too much about it. they dont sound like the coolest guys ever, not worth sweating over.  i say invest on painter guy, just to be friends if nothing more.
alright, so whats going on with me.  I was talking about myself on my facebook status. after too many disappointments, and too much time spent feeling sorry for myself i decided to take action; so yesterday was the first day of the rest of my life. and i fucking meant it.
sometimes cliches are just the best thing to use, you cant help it.  yesterday, i woke up at 9:20 with the sound of my alarm. i spent 30 mins still in bed listening to music and checking out pitchfork. watched the atlas sound video on la blogotheque, heard the new ANCO.  took a shower, while listening to Merriweather. cleaned my room. got ready, made sure that i packed a change for work, and at noon i headed to Adams Morgan.

what seems to be DC’s new favorite companion, the rain, was back, which made the walk from woodly park to the heart of adams morgan annoying. at the same time i dont mind so much the gray, damp weather, it reminds me of sao paulo,  and i also feel that it almost justifies being introspective and reclusive.

suddenly, i find myself at the door of the place where i was going, i got there faster than i expected. walk down to this basement place, and wait for about 30 minutes to do what i came to do.

At about 1:30 in the afternoon, on November 23, 2009, on this rainy day, with Jimi Hendrix’s purple haze in the background…

I got my first tattoo.

its the one that i’ve been talking about for years now, it says know thyself, or γνῶθι σεαυτόν. its in my inner upper right arm. pictures will be up soon. i have to figure out if i can upload things on this loaner computer.  I fucking did it.

so what brought up this dramatic event, what made me act, you might ask…

well, once again i did something mildly ridiculous in order to spend more time with the kid at work. i switched shifts with this other host so that i might spend more time with him. this was this past sunday, and considering that it was sunday, i knew that it wouldnt be as busy, so we would have more time to talk. and everything worked out as i planned, we talked considerably more than usual; we talked politics, philosophy, music, everything that im into and that is good with the world.  we have a lot of things in common, he likes cats more than dogs, he has similar views in politcs as i do.

so from that you’d think that the evening was a success? NOPE. at the end of the night, i was convinced that nothing would ever happen, of course from that i spiraled into down into self pity and depression mode, which turned into self hate and frustration. while talking to my friend, Lin, i came to the realization that i was just a shell of the person that i want to be, that im not really living. and that i complain about not being able to make connections with people, but i think that ultimately, i’m the issue. i push people away. i do it all the time, its instinctive and its because im afraid. relationships scare me, im afraid of being afraid, becoming dependent on someone, judged, you name it.

i’ve always been too cautious, and most importantly non-committal. i couldn’t commit to anything because i was afraid. and that is making me unhappy.  so i looked back to the greatest teachers in history, Plato and Aristotle. Aristotle says that to have the virtues of a virtuous person (which will therefore make one happy), one should swing the pendulum of one’s actions towards that which one wishes to be. so, considering that i’m presently a coward when it comes to human bonding, i must swing to the end of foolhardiness (if thats a word, i don’t know). meaning, that since i already have coward tendencies, i have to aim at acting stupidly brave. and in that process, i will reach a happy medium. so in a nutshell, i have push myself to be outgoing.

from Plato, well, comes the idea of knowing yourself. in many of his texts, he has Socrates saying that that is one of the most important things in life. and a necessary step to becoming an enlightened person, one should understand their desires, and what not (hahah to sound very philosophical).

getting this tattoo might have been a step too far in the foolhardy direction, but i’m confident that i am committing to something worth while. fuck, if i cant make the sort of permanent committment to a belief that i hold so dearly, what can i commit to?

this tattoo is meant to be a constant reminder of where i’m coming from and where i’m going. a constant path to better understand myself, and to better myself. to be the person i want to be, to be happy, that is truly the ultimate aim. I’m a new person, i’m a person now, no longer do i want to be a ghost. i’m 23 and its time to live my life.  you are living yours, and right now you are in the middle of an adventure, and im so excited for you, just dont hesitate anymore, its not worth it.

we have to dive in and brace ourselves for the fall, the scars are good for character building. hahah

anyway, this is all not a sermon–just a thought. lol.

im reading this book by Derek Parfit, and in it he says: ” philosophers should not only interpret our beliefs; when they are false, they should change them”.  i’m pretentious enough to feel like that somehow applies to whats going on here.

we are now doers–people who do shit,  who do shit that they want to do and succeed at it.

nanda

The Gertie that Failed

What a terrible blog title, but there it is…  Not only am I failing at blogging, but I’m failing at blog-titling.

I haven’t written in what I believe turns out to be almost EXACTLY three weeks.  That type of radio silence will not do.  You blogged TWICE in a ROW.  That type of reliance on you to keep the momentum going will not due either.

Well Mr. November, you’ve kind of fucked me over.  This upsets me, as we had an agreement.

In all seriousness it’s the same old sad story coming from my end.  No one’s doing the fucking but me, and it’s certainly not the good type of fucking, and it’s not even the awkward but usually good bad-type of fucking.  It’s just me.  Screwing over me.  Yet again.

So November had quite a lot of promise I’d say.  The night before I met the Greek-equivalent of Edward Cullen, trapezoidal hair and all, but who was such a lovely and normal flesh color.  He had many other fantastic qualities, and I was a bit smitten.  I started taking a Greek course every weekday for three hours.  I moved into a room in Exarhia with two other 25-year old Greek men.  Oh, and I started writing a novel.

But, as we’ve both witnessed time and time again, old habits die hard.

First of all, Andreas the painter turned out to be a bit of a dud, though lately I wonder if I might be able to breathe some life into it.  I’ve seen him a couple times since that party, though I haven’t had the chance to really chat him up.  The first time I walked into his record store unknowingly and left very, very disappointed by the unpleasant chill of our interaction.  There was no connection.  He didn’t really pick up on the sarcasm in my voice when I joked about how passé record stores are.  I guess in the light of day, while sober, that whole kick-him-when-he’s-down form of flirtation I so enjoy is not as gainful.  In my defense, he was working and standing next to his boss.  Still, I had expected more.  Every time I walk by Vinyl Microstore and he’s there, he always waves as I look in the window.  That’s kind of something, maybe.  I’m considering going in to see if he wants to get a coffee at some point.  Will post update on that progress.

What else?  Oh right, I started to attempt to pick up a little bit of basic Greek.  It was going really well in the beginning, but somewhere around the third week I experienced a few road blocks.  If only they were language obstacles!  Nope, instead they were struggles of motivation and willpower, the nastiest kind.  So yeah, I couldn’t make it to one class last week because of work, and somewhere along the way I started to miss class.  I missed three classes in a row — that’s 9 full hours.  Shoot me.  So now the fourth and final week has begun and I’m going tomorrow for my first class in a week… and I’m sure we’re having a final on Thursday or Friday.  I can’t believe I’ve managed to do this to myself, AGAIN.  Seriously I know it will be okay, the language may be incredibly difficult and convoluted and pointless, but I can whip out some foreign grammar like nobody’s business.  Could someone please pass me an Adderall?

The honest truth is that on two out of those three days I missed, I was playing hooky with Nikos.  It was never my intention to miss, but we’d start hanging out around 11 so I could make my class at 3, and every time we just got a bit whipped up in our conversation and suddenly it’d be 4:30.  And that’s of course when all the kissing would start, so of course I was going to miss my class!  This is good field research, seriously.  More important than learning how each of the genders decline.

You are pretty up-to-date in the Ashley and Mr. Zag tale, though lately it feels like at any second it could take a dramatic turn in any direction.  Today he told me that he knows for a fact he is falling in love with me.  Then he talked about how that can’t happen, because over the last few days he’s reasoned his way to the conclusion that he has to stay with his girlfriend.  I’m leaving in 7 months, he says.  There isn’t really anything missing per se in his relationship with her.  He’s gotten to be quite close with her parents, and her father is now quite sick with cancer.  He’s finally reached out to a friend for advice.  Like your standard Greek man, his advice was to keep doing what you’re doing but don’t get caught!  So we talked it out all over again like we did exactly a week ago, and I came to the same conclusion, which is that we gotta stop this madness.  What’s hilarious is how he’s right there with me through each rational step leading up to the obvious conclusion — that this must end — but at the very last second he always disagrees with our ceasing contact.  Today he actually said, “well give me one good reason, besides the obvious ones, why we shouldn’t keep doing this?”

I wish I could say that I can walk away from it as well, but I’ve yet to prove such strength.  I mean, I left our msn chat today saying that we gotta cool it down and take a break from seeing each other, only to text him 20 minutes later that I already missed him.  Come on, I am better than that.  Then we proceeded to chat again and he told me his fantasies of what our life would look like in 10 years.  That shit sort of freaks me out, but I get it as well.  I don’t know what this thing is between us, but I can feel it and sense it and taste it.  It’s organic.  It’s nation-less and language-less and gender-less, which I dare say is the sort of — love — I’ve always aspired to find.  So he says all these things but always comes back to his tired “nothing can change” committment to his girlfriend, and I really think that’s just how it’s gonna be.  I can hear the world’s smallest violin playing “House of Cards” for me at this very moment.

So I thought it a bit symbolic that Nick came and helped me schlep my shit to my new apartment in Exarhia almost three weeks ago while I was deathly ill.  Here was my best friend in Greece and soon-to-be lover escorting me to my new place, where he got to leave me at the hands of two available 25-year old men.  The apartment seemed ideal, the exact package I’d been searching for since I first arrived in Greece and knew I’d have to move to make a life.  Young people.  Greeks.  Exarhia.  Unfortunately, I don’t feel like things have worked out as well as I thought they would.  I’m sure most of this is just in my head, but I feel like I’m not living up to their foreign-roommate expectations.  I spend a lot of time in my room, which happens to be kind of far away from the living room.  Also, I really have no reason to even walk near the living room unless my purpose is to go there and sit down, and sometimes that mission feels too exhausting to undertake.  It doesn’t help that there is always some huge group of people (normally only men) all hanging out there after midnight.  On a few occasions I’ve mustered up the courage to socialize with them and it’s never been terrible, but it’s never been great.  I did a small Californication marathon with them once or twice, which really just meant that I stared at the screen and watched the show while the guys got to laugh and remark about all the sex and drugs in Greek.  Every time I laughed at something and they laughed too, I secretly gave myself points.  High points lead to friendship, so I laughed at everything.  One time I took a few hits of a joint,but that was after turning to the guy next to me who was suddenly handing me what I thought was a rolled cigarette and saying to him (too) loudly, “huh? oh, wait, umm, OH IS THIS WEED?!”  I did it to be cool and didn’t feel a thing.  It’s been a while.

Tonight actually I ended up sitting around the circle with them while they all chatted and joked and laughed and fought all in Greek.  I feel a tad frustrated by it.  I mean, they know I don’t speak any Greek… don’t they see me sitting there awkwardly staring out into space?  God you think you’re awkward in America.  It’s pretty fucking awkward to sit in a circle with a bunch of guys obviously talking about tits and to hear every single one of them burst out in laughter at the same moment while I sit there quietly.  It happened.  So.  Many.  Times.  Finally I grabbed my Greek homework and got the nerdy guy next to me who was giving me googly eyes to tell me the answers.  I figure that will be my secret power: seduction by foreign tongue.  Honestly, they are nice guys.  One of them invited me to come back to the apartment later (I was headed to grab a coffee) to watch District 9.  When I came back, there was more of the awkward sitting and smoking, and then there was the pot smoking, and then the gyro ordering and eventual scarfing, and then the movie watching.  Of course the film features three languages — English, Afrikaans, and Alien — so I was struggling to keep up, what with just Greek subtitles.  So here I am again, in my room, but I truly made an effort so I deem it a success.

Is it fair for me to say that I’ve fucked myself over with this living situation thus far?  I don’t know, I guess I should try to get out of my room more, but I gotta say that my roommates have turned out to be a bit less cool and interesting than I had thought.  It’s one thing to invite me to sit with them when they see me out of the corner of their eyes, but it’d be another if they’d maybe speak a bit of English.  This is clearly a guy’s apartment, but not in the great way I thought it’d be.  All the fun is had here it seems, and when I did call up Theodore over the weekend to find out about anything happening (see how proactive I was?) at a bar or whatnot, we went to a substandard place with his unattractive friends.  When do I stop counting points and face the music that maybe we won’t all be friends?  And that it’s not all my fault?  And maybe start to consider that they don’t give a fuck?  Having said all that, I think there’s a relatively high possibility that one of these days I will start to talk to one of their friends a bit more and I’ll make a new friend.  Making friends is all about stealing from the friends you already have that you maybe don’t like that much.  Are we not perfect examples of this?

Finally, the novel.  That will have to wait for the next blog entry.  But here’s a hint:  I’ve personally renamed November to  Short Story Writing Month.  So now I just gotta write a short story.

I wanted to really tie this all together with some of my new, more inspired thoughts about constantly attempting to be excellent.  That goes for the shit we have to do and the shit we want to do.  Certainly I’ve been thinking about the difference between those two types of shit often here, as I teach and deal with the headaches that accompany my inexperience with the job, while simultaneously aspiring to do something creative and profound independently.  I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job at either of those things, which makes me not only mediocre and unprofessional but also hypocritical and plain ole boring.  I hate straddling that terribly characterless line of insignificance.

With that I’ll probably put this entry to bed.  Sorry for all the telling and retelling… I can sense my lack of conciseness and diary-like thoughts but fuck it, I started this entry just a wee bit high and now I’m just stupid tired.

I can feel it though, the Ashley that Succeeds is gonna emerge very soon.  Maybe tomorrow even.  Let’s choose to be People that Succeed.  Yeah, let’s do that.

GERTIE

//

On the edge

we are faltering. we must get back on the wagon. i’m sorry i’ve been disconnected, mostly it was a result of me just trying to figure somethings out and so i isolated myself. But also, my computer crashed *again*…so thats that.
i don’t really have a lot of time to post, but i’m glad to say that it seems like im putting some things in order, and maybe November was a month of change, well almost change. it was a month of planning change, which as sad as it sounds, it a change from before.

Stillness is no longer the move.

Whats going on over there??

more to come soon, promise.

nanda

The Changing Hour

“She couldn’t at this moment for instant have said whether, with her quickened perceptions, she were more enlived or oppressed; and the case might in fact have been serious hadn’t she, by good fortune, from the moment the picture loomed, quickly made up her mind that what finally most concerned her was neither to seek nor to shrink, wasn’t even to wonder too much, but was to let things come as they would, since there was little enough dounbt of how they would come and go.”
~The Wings of the Dove, Henry James.

So that was a little bit from the novel that im reading now, which Im quite enjoying, and which I felt was sorta relevant to whats happening at this literal change of time. That is the end of day light savings hour.  Anyway, its been a while, so there are few things to be updated.  So I’ll do it by sections.

first comes the MAJOR FAIL

So the whole deal with the new kid came undone as soon (it seems) as it was a light of something. The matchbox vultures pounced on fresh meat, giving him, well I thought, an unwelcome sense of belonging and an increase in ego. I kinda have the feeling that people have to work to be accepted, so it annoys me when all is required is to be good looking.  Sigh, it was so annoying, severs would come down all night to the host stand to check him out, offered him food, invited him to go places–i guess im jealous.

bah, i guess 30 rock wasn’t kidding about pretty people having it easier in life.

Anyway, the mime costume was a success. Except that I failed as a mime and talked all night.

Afterwards the boring gang of course weren’t doing anything. Well the brothers were-or were they? When I got home, Alf was playing some video game (as usual).

I didn’t want to go home, so I hung out a but after my shift was over and stumbled upon some drunk people from matchbox. and in a desperate and bold move, I tagged along with them. it was awkward at first, seeing how I barely had ever even talked to them at work.

All in all the initial awkwardnes went away with the beers, and eventually we had a pleasant time.

so that was a minor success of the week, a little bonding time with some of the servers and chefs. Drank some, smoked a lot. but that was that.

at least i just didnt go home like the usual and drifted off to bitter dreams. Passing out is SO much better. FML.

 

THE HOUR HAS CHANGED, it gets darker relatively sooner now.

Can that be over analyzed to mean something of significance in my life? Perhaps. The best bet is that we will see that later.

Absolutely nothing eventful happened today, except that an old guy in a bike said hi to me while I smoked a cigarette. This was monday, my day off.

For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about this guy from work. I haven’t talked to you about him yet, simply because in reality, there’s nothing to be said. He seems to take the time to talk to me more than the others. But I have also found out via gossip, that he has a list of girls he’d like to hook up with, and I wasn’t on it. Maybe he just wants to be friends and thats why he always tells me random stories, or asks if i want to share dinner. He was suspended because of something silly that doesn’t deserve the time to get into especially since I dont know all the details. Hopefully he will be back at mbx sometime soon.

The funny thing is, when I checked out his facebook (i’m officially a total creepester), we just seems to be complete opposites. He is one of those people who when asked what kind of music he likes, he answers: ” oh, I like a little bit of everything” –GROSS. UGH, such response to me, just means, that you dont take the time to seek out what really connects with you, or even maybe that you just dont connect with music as deeply as we do. which in turn has so many other implications. So, from that i’m judging that I dont think he will ever understand me.

oh, the assumptions we make.

All that being said, I still can’t stop thinking about him. Even in light of the new indie boy toy at work.

so here’s the last little bit…

DREAMING OF YOU

So last night, I had a really random dream where I got this message from you from greece, and you needed to be rescued. You and like a bunch of kids were being held at this treacherous place. And then I was trying to gather people you knew to help me go after you, but I was in this fancy mansion and no one was really doing anything, and the mansion was flooding. And then the whole town was flooding, but everyone acted as if that was the status quo.  And then i finally started running because time was running out, and i had to cross this huge field of really tall grass where there were a bunch of people in the grass having sex. I was running really fast. and I stumbled upon a couple, who were by the edge of a rocky precipice and they said that you were at this red house. Cautiously I made it down the precipice near the water, ran to the house and found you.

it was really weird and random.

alright, gotta run. i hope you had fun tonight. i’ll let you know how kurt was.

I’m Mr. November, I won’t fuck us over

Well, goodbye October, you were kind of shitty to me. Perhaps in the next few days I’ll reflect on some of the darker moments of those last two weeks of October, but for right now, I say, hello, November! I think you’re gonna be a doozey.  Here’s why:

First, and most importantly for me right now, it means that I am writing a novel. Whether or not I am physically sitting down at my computer and typing away at it, it’s a-churnin’ in my head. I have 30 days to write 50,000 words (about 100 pages) in some cohesive manner. For the month of November, I am a writer.

For the month of November, I’m also a Greek student. I’ve signed up for an intensive beginner Greek course that meets every day for three hours. Tomorrow is the first day of class, and I am incredibly anxious to see what kinds of people I’ll be spending all this time with. The last class mainly consisted of old Albanian women whose husbands were Greek, so I’m hoping this one will have a few younger people thrown into the mix as well.

Third, for the month of November, I am a resident of Exarchia. Today I found an apartment that I plan to move into this first week of the month. The studio I’m in right now is okay, but it was never a permanent option for me. It’s simply too expensive for what it is.  I don’t mind living in a shithole, as long as it’s a cheap-as-fuck shithole. The place I’ve found happens to be right in the middle of the infamous Exarchia Square, a hotbed of music, art, intellect, and anarchy. Literally, it’s where all the anarchists in Athens live and wreak havoc. I can’t imagine living anywhere else in the city at this point. I’ve been well warned about the political climate in the area — almost exactly a year ago a young boy was shot in the area by a police officer, leading to country- and later Europe-wide riots — but I’ve spent enough time there and around people who live there to know that it’s actually one of the safest areas in the city because of said political climate. Honestly, I just want to be around greek hipsters in plaid. And dreadlocks.

Today being the first of November also means that I’ve lived through Halloween and all the shenanigans that accompany it this year. Unfortunately, Halloween has about zero weight in Greece, and I didn’t see anyone dressed up when walking around downtown. Luckily though, my friend Andi’s very sexy Greek landlord, Antonis, randomly decided to throw a birthday party for a friend last night.  Not only did I dance to Joy Division and the Fuck Buttons, drink many free vodka sodas, and have fun getting all dressed up in an alternative fashion, but I also managed to have my heart stolen. God damn you sexy Greek vampire-looking painters that work at indie record stores in Exarchia!

I know we both despise the inevitability of measuring success and failure of a night out by the interactions with men.  With that said, last night was a total success. I had seen this guy sitting outside alternatively alone and then with some other random guy early in the night, and pointed him out to Andi as “my type.” Ha. When his friend went away and the seat next to him opened up, I decided to bite the bullet and sit down. He happened to be reading a newspaper, which seemed odd in light of the heavy music and dancing in the background, so I decided to have faith in my inclination towards mean flirtation. “Who the fuck reads at a party?” I asked him. Sigh. We ended up talking for about an hour I’d say, while constantly being interrupted by random people coming over and saying hello. I started to get the feeling that I was talking to a very well-connected guy, which made him even sexier – not because he was popular per se, but because he had this ease about him as he sat there quietly with his legs crossed, not seeking out people but letting them come to him.

There were a few moments where I had to stop my mind from working too hard. I could see myself spending real time with him. It was one of the first times (well, it was probably exactly the second time, after Nick Zag) in which I felt like I wasn’t talking just to talk, that I wasn’t chalking up the poor level of conversation to the language barrier or cultural differences, and that I wasn’t allowing my wishful thinking to cloud the fact that this person was not right for me. No, this guy was right for me.

We talked about psychoanalysis. We talked about unleashing the artist within. We talked about German music from the 1970s. He did his best impression of the typical American. I made fun of his sideburns.

And then, after we had sat there for what felt like a brief moment but was in actuality over an hour, I went to the bathroom. He got another whiskey. I went to the dance floor and he stood on the wall behind the DJ. He was looking at me, but I played shy. He had told me beforehand that he was sick all week and didn’t plan on dancing. When “Transmission” came on, we both rocked out.

And then, when I was finally getting up the nerve to go to him on the wall and pick up where we left off, I saw him walking towards me. He takes my hands, kisses me on both cheeks, and says that he’s leaving and he’ll see me again at some point, he’s sure of it. I guess I waited too long. Or maybe it was what it was, and that’s all he wanted. Maybe he has a girlfriend. But before I could even figure out what happened, and realized I should find him and get his number and tell him he has to stay, he had disappeared into the ether that is Athens.

Alas, Andreas the painter who works at Vinyl Microstore in Exarchia, where are you?

And so continues my life-long, quixotic quest for love and adventure.  I foresee a few casual (but totally contrived) walk-bys at this record store in my, and hopefully his, fantastic future.

GERTIE

CAN’T STOP LISTENING TO:  kurt vile

 

Spooky Scary…(bethesda)

Its Halloween again. And it seems that I again have no interesting party to go to, “the gang” have just invited me to go to bethesda. ugh, really? really? bethesda…lame.

the problem, once again, seems to be that perhaps my companions are a reflection of me. In which case, by the transitive properties of friendships, I’m lame. boo-hoo.  So in a bold step I decided to text one of my co-workers to see what shes up to tonight, in hopes of doing something that resembles the life of a 23 year old.

On an unrelated front, the anticipation of working with the new guy is down right silly. I’m having that gut feeling that this will lead to disappointment, just like The Books say. But then again, I guess the message from that song was that it seems impossible to have no expectations, or that maybe in reality its better to do the former than the ladder.

Anyway, today I spent time with Michelle and Sasha. Its interesting to see the effects of time in close relationships. How there are moments in time where you are completely in sync with some people, and although shades of that remain, its never the same. I wonder if ever such connections are forever sustainable. I wonder when we will go our separate ways…blah, who knows.

Besides that, there’s not much else going on. I’m annoyed that tomorrow I have to work with this guy I hate. I think I have to say something to him, because keeping it bottled up inside is doing me no good.

Ha! I should have kept your American Apparel suspenders after all, they would have been useful for my mime costume. I bought ones, but they only had navy blue left. so that blows. whatever.

blah so my co-worker texted me back and shes going to Pure on U st, its definitely not our kind of place.

I didnt go, didn’t feel like feeling totally out of place. Plus, I just decided to try on the mime make up on, as you can see the result on facebook. the idea was to also clean my room. but that didnt happen.

meeting people is easy.

sometimes i wonder if we are on some quixotic quest for a mate.

nanda.

Flannel Weather

so, im thinking the best way to remedy the problem of not knowing when each other posted, is to simply look at the freaking blog. And what better way to do that than to attempt to post everyday, like most bloggers?

Anyway… yea, i just bought the Do Make Say Think record, and Im throughly enjoying it. Of course I bought it because you were talking about it, and what not. You gotta tell me how the concert went, in all details.

I’ve been to my fair share of concerts here in good ol’  DC, although mostly alone,  its been an interesting experience. Why is it so hard to meet people at concerts? Or more particularly, why is it so hard for me to meet people in concerts? I think it has to do with my antisocial nature…so i’m working on it.

So yea, like I told you, I saw Atlas Sound, and that made me fall more in love with Bradford Cox–he’s a genius…absolutely amazing. Opening for Atlas Sound was The Selmanaires, I thought that they were pretty good. They put on a good show, I got into their music. And Bradford likes them so much that they are his back up band for Atlas Sound during this tour.

Then I saw the dirty projectors. I awkwardly waited outside the black cat for an hour or so to find an extra ticket…. and I was lucky. I got in in time to check the opening act, Givers, and they put on a very good show, I was sold. I felt kinda bad  because Sasha wanted to go as well, but because I thought that I had to work and because we had no tickets and because none were to be found on craigslist, we made no plans. My idea to stand at the door was totally last minute, and because i just didnt want to be home anymore. I’m not sure why, but I was unsettled by the idea of of eating gnocchi and watching a movie with the house mates.

I also checked out True Womanhood last week and Ringo Deathstarr two nights ago. I wasn’t as impressed with TW as I had been before, which made me a little sad, maybe its because they weren’t feeling it since there was like 10 people tops at the Black Cat’s backstage. Ringo Deathstarr was good, but they played some new songs that I didn’t think were of the same quality of their earlier stuff.

Pat was there, he considers Ringo Deathstarr to be one of this favorite bands, which, I’m not going to lie, kinda makes me question his musical taste. I mean, I know that he has excellent taste in music, and his musical knowledge is far more expansive than mine. But still, it seems that when it comes to current music, he’s lacking a bit. I dont know. Frankly I dont know all that he listens to, all i know is that he really likes late 70s and 80s brit punk/ post punk/ whatever the movement is called. I was just judging his statement that RDS is one of his favorite bands, they are good, but not that good. hahah, I guess there’s room for subjectivity in musical tastes after all! Its a concept that I struggle with.

Bah, I had interesting things to say about the shows, but I have forgotten them all. I should have written this earlier, or taken notes. Oh well.

Uhm, to address you facebook questions. Yes, I did use a self timer for that photo dammit. Thanks for pointing it out. You know me too well. And the whole flower thing, I was just teasing you, because I had nothing better to say. Apparently thats what I do, and I don’t know how well people get that I don’t do it maliciously.  For example, one of my managers at work is letting his beard grow out. And I made a comment letting him know that I had noticed it. He asked me how I liked it, and I said: “well, its better than what you had before. Better than that 1997 AJ from the backstreet boys thin line beard look.”  Whatever–my stories are boring.

I’m eating yogurt and drinking coffee, that reminds me of you.

I’ve reconnected with Blonde Redhead this morning… good times.  You should check out their album La Mia Vita Violenta, it has one of my favorite BR tracks, UFO. But I think that my favorite BR album is still Misery is a Butterfly–great album.

Oh and I got myself a flannel shirt, for the weather is calling for one.  Anyway, I’m going to post again tomorrow, hopefully about something interesting.

I hope you’re enjoying the yogurt over there.

nanda