In my grammar and style class, our homework was to come up with words for things that didn’t have words. I was done 10 minutes after class:
interdoubt – the state after you connect to a new wi-fi network where you’re not sure if it worked or not (you’re opening your Web browser, checking to see if your IM client will connect, waiting for the “new mail” sound)
subhalcyon – the slow, shallow rush of air that happens in silence inside the subway tunnel which means that surely a train is approaching
connectalasis – the foreboding feeling (when at work or in class) that you are missing out on something awesome going on online (be it an Apple keynote, celebrity nip slip, or a Facebook post from your best friend)
I’ve been terribly busy this week, but I did still have time to see Hot Chip at the Hammerstein Ballroom on Friday. I’ve basically had to read Huckleberry Finn in four days (I’m about 2/3 of the way through), and then read all these critical essays on it. My lit teacher is basically obsessed with the idea that Mark Twain invented the American novel, but I think that’s poetic bullshit. I think his comment about Salinger borrowing Twain’s style of dialogue rings true—Huck Finn and Holden Caulfield would have a grand old time together—but I don’t see what the big deal is. I suppose I will come class tomorrow.
I just got back from the gym and I’m feeling a bit tired. I need to read as much as possible in that book and prepare for my presentation on Jean Baudrillard on Wed. It should be epic.
This weekend was totally awesome.
I didn’t really do much, but I had tons of fun. Probably had something to do with the company I’ve been keeping.
I went over to Matt’s after school on Wednesday, and I telecommuted from his place until we went to see Rashomon that night. We got in pretty early, had some Chipotle (orgasm!) and then went to this place called The Grey Dog a few blocks from the Film Forum and had some confections and espresso. They have really good coffee, although it’s pretty expensive. Like, $13 for a salad expensive.
It was really great seeing that movie again, I hadn’t seen it since the summer. the next day, after work, we went to visit my uncle in the hospital. It was just my aunt and I, and my uncle was very agitated talking about how he was constipated. He would be awake for five minutes talking and then immediately asleep again. While before he wasn’t in much pain apparently he’s in a lot of pain now. My aunt said they gave him liquid morphine today when they visited.
He survived the death sentence by five years
and now we’re basically just waiting.
We’re trying to think about positive things (my aunt Gail called me an hour ago and was so excited talking about these cheap vacation rentals in Wildwood they found for this summer) but there’s always this layer of impending horror layered over our interactions. It’s marching inexorably closer, and even though I never was close with my uncle (his personality made that impossible for anyone), it’s going to be heartbreaking to see my grandma have to put one of her children in the grave.
I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to feel about this whole situation. I’m just dreading it. I absolutely adore my grandma and I wish I could spare her this, but it’s just going to happen. She has the peculiar ability to let other people’s problems drag her down too, and I really hope that won’t happen.
I had so much fun yesterday though, Matt and I went to see Asobi Seksu at Le Poisson Rouge, this little venue in the Village. They recorded this acoustic version of a bunch of their songs and so this tour was all acoustic at small venues. I have to say, even though that bitch is like 4 feet tall she is an amazing singer. She was in this white dress with gigantic white heels just like on the cover of the album. I was expecting a gaggle of those wapanese fags, but it was actually not a bad crowd.
She did this rendition of “Layers” that made me weak in the knees. Imagine this, but only with vocals, glockenspiel, and xylophone in a very intimate venue. Matt and I were probably three meters from her, max. They didn’t disappoint.
After that, we went to this night called Trash at the Studio at Webster Hall (yes, I know, you’re thinking Webster Hall, ultra-douchey) but this was actually really fun. They played Blur, Gossip, Yelle, Cut Copy, and a bunch of other great stuff.
Today I wasn’t really in a big hurry to get home, because I knew my mom was up in bumfuck nowhere with her boyfriend. Matt and I watched the latest Kathy Griffin DVD (She’ll Cut a Bitch) and I went home. I did some work on Josh’s website, and then went downstairs to paint for a while. I think it came out pretty good, but we’ll see what happens tomorrow. I think I need another brush just for white—no matter how much I clean the brushes I can never get all of the old paint out. I guess it never occurred to me to Google that, I just got one of my most saturated brushes clean as a whistle, so tomorrow I’ll be attacking my new masterpiece with more paint.
Did I mention that I also scored Jorge Luis Borges’ Collected Works at the Union Sq Barnes and Noble? I have to say, Strand is great and all, but I never find anything there. I’ve read a lot of the ones that were published in Labyrinths, but since I lost that on the plane back from Oklahoma, I thought it would be wonderful to read every single story he ever wrote.
I’ve been in front of my computer for the past few hours but I have no idea what I’m doing. Well, for most of that time I was really painting and just using my computer as a jukebox, but I feel like reading Gizmodo just makes me want a Nexus One that I don’t really need (and would frustrate me with the lack of a good keyboard).
Sometimes I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m feeling really apathetic about the school year. I suppose it’s because I’m probably going to have to delay graduate school for another year because of the smattering of classes that didn’t transfer. I’m going to apply anyway, and if I don’t get into any good programs then so be it.
In a lot of my classes my professors talk about finding our unique voice. I guess it’s impossible to step outside one’s writing and read it critically, but I feel like I’ve already found my voice.
I suppose I always considered school as just a formality. I’ve read more than they will ever make me read in college, I’ve written more than would ever be required (of course, not formal writing, but still).
I’m going over the guide for my major and getting quite confused. There’s this whole section for English electives, yet the online system has a bunch of things in that category and they aren’t counted towards my degree. Maybe everything your major has to be taken at the college that you matriculate from? I need to schedule a meeting with the English department chair.
I was feeling really apathetic tonight and I was looking at apartments in Queens and Washington Heights and Brooklyn—anywhere I could possibly afford. it’s really strange, the rents aren’t that much higher than Sacramento at all. I don’t understand why everybody doesn’t just move to New York. Usually when I’m looking for apartments I’m in my “sick of being so stressed out” mode and wanting to just go into a fugue state. I think it’s this whole concept of my life being in two places that’s got me feeling a bit discombobulated.
I did hang up my cloud painting over my workstation, and it looks very good. I had all these ideas of what I was going to paint over the clouds, but I actually kind of like the clouds by themselves. I think it’s the most upbeat thing I have painted in a long time.
I’ve been listening to the Smiths all night, mostly because it’s Matt’s favorite band and all. I always had a smattering of the singles, but never downloaded the entire albums before. I got them in Apple Lossless. I always loved Bigmouth Strikes Again, This Charming Man, and Pretty Girls Make Graves, but There is a Light That Never Goes Out is creeping up on my list.
It’s 1:00 and I’ve squandered my reading time. But I did hash out a bunch of stuff about my courses.
It’s 2:00 and I’ve squandered my reading time talking to someone that lives in the same building as me…but I did get a hilarious story out of it. I need to fictionalize it. ASAP.
2:30 and I found another cute Washed Out fan vid:
http://www.vimeo.com/7932491
I just want to say that this is such an adorable song and I’ve been listening to it all week:
No actual music video, unfortunately. I’m making one this summer if she doesn’t.
I need to write this other paper, but I spent the past 20 minutes trying to get the campus Internet to work, and I’ve given up. I turned on this hidden setting in my phone to make it only work on 3G, and I’m tethered. Fuck the Willy P IT department. I think I’m going to go down there and try to talk to someone tomorrow. They put up this snarky sign in the dorms saying we shouldn’t use wireless routers.
First, WTF? If you fucks had actually hooked up wireless, then we wouldn’t need to. Why not just pass out fucking CompuServe discs?
Shitty IT makes me livid. I’m sorry, but if you’re twice my age and don’t know how to run a fucking network, just quit. Go home. Hang yourself in cat5 cable. Please. The Internet users of Willy P will thank you.
Anyway, once it stopped working I went down to the gym to jog for a while. Ran into Marvin, we’re trying to plan a party for next week, but my budget is looking pretty conservative. I can’t believe I got paid on Friday and I only have $200 until next payday. Well, I worked a bunch today and I’m going to be putting in full days after Wed (I can only hope I don’t have any big assignments).
I’m getting through these winter days listening to songs about summer, and picturing my perfect summer day: waking up at eleven, taking a drive down to the beach, putting my iPod on and taking a nap in the hot sand until one or two. Go out for a nice satisfying swim, then dry out and munch on sandwiches, maybe take a long walk to the pier or the other end of the dunes. I need mental gymnastics to get through this winter.
I met my lit professor today for the first time. He’s a spirited, interesting guy. He is passionate about poetry and is terribly intelligent. I like a teacher that is very interested in his/her subject. No matter what it is, that type of enthusiasm is contagious for me. I was srsly totally involved in this lecture about Walt Whitman. I realize that this period of literature (civil war to WWI) isn’t the period I hate, it’s the period right before that where everyone was stuck on a strict adherence to rhyme and meter.
I’m taking my mom to the Taken by Trees show next month, which should be supercute! I’m also strangely hopeful that I might have a cute Valentine’s Day this year. Last year was totally fun (Sam and I got drunk as hell) but sometimes it’s nice to go out for dinner with someone special.
I also got tickets for Washed Out, which I’m totally excited to see live ever since Mario told me about the EP.
This is a rather music-heavy post, which I usually hate in other people’s blogs. But music is its own smokescreen. It sounds like bullshit to pontificate about how I can’t tell-all any more, but I really can’t. Music is one of those safe subjects that I can always go on about. People, on the other hand, are more difficult to write about because whenever you write, you’re creating a reality parallel (or, many times, perpendicular) to what others are experiencing. Telling what you really feel also gives up all your cards. It’s sort of disheartening to think of life as a game like that, but having people know your true intentions and true feelings is like sending the Iagos of the world an engraved invitation.
This one goes out to those in California (and the Midwest):
I feel like my intellectual life has been neutered with my inability to air my true feelings, but perhaps that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I need to start writing stories again. It’s better to sheath observations of human nature in fiction.
It’s 2:49 a.m. and I have the assignment for my grammar and style class on my lap, but I couldn’t care less about it.
I just want to say I miss summer soooo bad. I watched this video this guy made from his Caribbean vacation with this High Times song behind it, and I was just dying to jump in the ocean.
http://www.vimeo.com/6692499
The grammar assignment isn’t much, I just have to read a few pages. I’ll do it in between classes.
I miss summer.
so.
much.
I’d give anything to just run down the burning sand and dive into the bathwater-warm Atlantic right now.
So, I bought my tickets to California also. I’m leaving New York June 17 and doing a week in SF, a week in Sac, and a week in Reno, give or take a few days. I might go back and forth a bit, Mario and I were talking about maybe doing some kind of Sac expatriate meetup at the Merc or something odd like that.
I’m still in debt, but at least I’ll be looking forward to an amazing vacation. I’ll still be telecommuting while on “vacation,” so that will be rather odd, but I’ll still get to see everyone I miss.
I’m loving Taken by Trees and Washed Out. Such a great EP.
This probably sounds really scattered, but it’s late and I’m not really tired. I forgot my pillow yet again, so I’ve got to just deal. My bed is so uncomfortable, I’ve got to remember to get an egg crate thing.
All of my undone tasks are catching up with me. I’m supposed to have all this stuff done for work but really I only have 50% done if that. I wish I had a switch that I could turn myself off and go to sleep.
I’m seeing Asobi Sesku next week, which should be awesome. I had this whole semioticsblarg to write about this show I saw, but my wrists are killing me and I just don’t have time. Maybe later when I’ve finished the other 10,000 things I’m doing and then can find some kind of time-space inversion to do voice-recognition in at my college.
I just got back from seeing Showgirls with Yevgeny. It was absolutely hilarious, everybody was cracking up and drinking 40s. I forgot to eat before I left home, so I had some pizza at this place a few blocks down. It is most uncomfortably lying on my stomach right now.
I know I should sleep, but it’s one of those nights where I just can’t. I didn’t realize that Showgirls is like two and a half hours long, so it’s 4 a.m.
I should just lie down and hope the nausea subsides.
UPDATE:
So it’s 8 a.m. the next day, and wow. I’ve been puking all night, every hour or two, and I’ve puked up that whole pizza. I feel so dehydrated and drained. There’s few things I like less than vomiting. The thing is, when you’ve been drinking vomiting isn’t so bad because you’re already drunk. Vomiting sober is ten times as terrible.
But I took a hot shower and I think I might be able to actually fall asleep. Fuck you, food poisoning.