cleaned the shit out of the new apt w/ jay and pete yesterday. after things were mopped and clean(er)-smelling we went around with a tambourine and pot lids and incense and scared the old bad spirits away (the upstairs kitty looking on from the fire escape in bewilderment), then went back to pete's and had sub-par burritos and beer. i'm looking forward to living with those guys.
and then riding back to alison's on the subway, looking at the outer edges of the map where it wanders off into long island, i remembered myself 5 years ago riding the subway looking at the same map. a lot of it has become so much more familiar - i wonder what i would have thought if i'd known how far from manhattan i'd end up. those outer edges used to make me feel twinges of envy of the people whose childhood homes were just on the other side of brooklyn and now i'm making my first "real" home of my own right there, and the longing has diminished to a little pebble. i guess i'm feeling the happy effects of finally settling down after so many years of having my stuff(myself?) scattered all over the place. (although god only knows how long i'll really be anywhere anyway.)
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
harvest moon
just saw the harvest moon hanging low over met. ave and it was like a huge swollen pumpkin in the sky (eerie orange, i swear to god) and i wish everyone in brooklyn could see it, too, and we could have a big orgy. or harvest things. or something. i always feel like i should be doing more with myself when i look at a full moon.
last year i saw the harvest moon with huck at the dreamaway. it was chilly out (sweltering today, mid-90's) - there was a scrim of clouds across the sky, and huck told me to remember the moment and write about it some other time, which has now finally happened.
in other strange synchronicities, i ate lunch (soggy but passable chilaquiles) in this mexican diner that matt used to live under. mana's "labios compartidos" came on, creating a sort of triad of longing (matt/old life in ny, nicky/summers on the cape and mexico itself.)
last year i saw the harvest moon with huck at the dreamaway. it was chilly out (sweltering today, mid-90's) - there was a scrim of clouds across the sky, and huck told me to remember the moment and write about it some other time, which has now finally happened.
in other strange synchronicities, i ate lunch (soggy but passable chilaquiles) in this mexican diner that matt used to live under. mana's "labios compartidos" came on, creating a sort of triad of longing (matt/old life in ny, nicky/summers on the cape and mexico itself.)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
into and out of the wild
last night i watched sean penn's "into the wild," and, being the granolaface i am, was moved by it. (which is not to say that i didn't snigger at the shot of him burning his as he set off across the sweltering Arizona desert.) besides it coming right after what could have been a disastrous phonecall w/ dad (Me: Hi, dad. so you're going to move me in on sunday. Dad: Oh. I am?) but ended sanely, even sweetly (Dad: And we're going to get you moved even though it's a tremendous pain in the ass, because you are the most important thing and I love you. Me: [sort of sobbing]) which brought up all sorts of feelings about what it means to really and truly leave home, to become, as i vowed to myself last december under a sky pulsing with stars, "a child of the universe," it set some interesting thoughts into motion.
on the one hand, a complete return to nature is the easiest thing to do - at least from an existential standpoint. the most definite measure of a person, in my estimation, is who s/he is without the adulterating influences of other people, media & the incipient bullshit they entail. and without question, such a change would open the door to a new series of existential problems, but you'd be so busy trying to satisfy the most basic of needs that you wouldn't have to entertain them. (although, having never been in that situation, i can't really speak authoritatively.) taken in this light, it is more difficult to create a self-sufficient, or at least sustainable, lifestyle within the confines of society.
which is not to say that chris mccandless was "right" or "wrong" in doing what he did. i had the interesting experience of being able to see this film and read critical discussion (from the onion a.v. club, naturally) without the impulse to call him either a hero or an asshole - he was just doing what he felt he absolutely had to do. and, of course, i am not really speaking of chris mccandless as a person but rather of the character of mccandless as i saw it in the film.
what i really enjoyed most about the film, beyond the gorgeous shots of the sea, woods and sky, was being able to contextualize my own longing to live "the truth" that i think exists outside the social world we have built. i have entertained fantasies of living in the wild for many years and read books on it and fallen in love with people who i thought were capable of doing it, and i see now that it is (at least for me) a symbol for being able to live the truth of myself. but the truth of myself is who i am right now - perhaps it's a truth i don't fully recognize often enough, but more probably that the truth i want to see doesn't correspond to that which is really there.
on the one hand, a complete return to nature is the easiest thing to do - at least from an existential standpoint. the most definite measure of a person, in my estimation, is who s/he is without the adulterating influences of other people, media & the incipient bullshit they entail. and without question, such a change would open the door to a new series of existential problems, but you'd be so busy trying to satisfy the most basic of needs that you wouldn't have to entertain them. (although, having never been in that situation, i can't really speak authoritatively.) taken in this light, it is more difficult to create a self-sufficient, or at least sustainable, lifestyle within the confines of society.
which is not to say that chris mccandless was "right" or "wrong" in doing what he did. i had the interesting experience of being able to see this film and read critical discussion (from the onion a.v. club, naturally) without the impulse to call him either a hero or an asshole - he was just doing what he felt he absolutely had to do. and, of course, i am not really speaking of chris mccandless as a person but rather of the character of mccandless as i saw it in the film.
what i really enjoyed most about the film, beyond the gorgeous shots of the sea, woods and sky, was being able to contextualize my own longing to live "the truth" that i think exists outside the social world we have built. i have entertained fantasies of living in the wild for many years and read books on it and fallen in love with people who i thought were capable of doing it, and i see now that it is (at least for me) a symbol for being able to live the truth of myself. but the truth of myself is who i am right now - perhaps it's a truth i don't fully recognize often enough, but more probably that the truth i want to see doesn't correspond to that which is really there.
Monday, September 24, 2007
el regreso
well! it certainly has been quite a while since i've posted, and as far as i can tell the person who last wrote never really existed, much less lived in another country. i've fallen back into the american rhythm of life - mostly, that is... there was a little incident with me almost dying on a runaway horse - as seamlessly as i left, and now i'm back in new york. teaching grammar. yes, the very thing i said that i didn't want to do now occupies at least 5 hours of every day of my life until the beginning of december.
it's not so bad. the people are great, and their english is so good they can absorb - and even respond to! - my pseudo-philosophical rambling. the things that really suck about it are 1) only sleeping in once a week, 2) working 9-5 both days of the weekend, and 3) my creepy boss. i have a lot of creative freedom, half days from monday to thursday, and, because of the unrestrictive curriculum, a renewed interest in doing the work necessary to keep a classroom afloat. i would even go so far as to say that i'm honing my craft, and that i might even be more suited to working with this population than i am to working with NYC teenagers. or am i? only time will tell - because god may strike me dead if i don't get myself a Real Teaching Job soon. or at least get the weekends off.
y otras cosas - ahora hay un hombre en mi vida. we met this summer and it was like something out of a nora ephron movie (well, if nora ephron movies had protagonists who think actual thoughts and/or smoke drugs) complete with starlit beach cuddling, couples mini-golf and a bunch of other stuff that i am ashamed to say i totally enjoyed... the kind of stuff that sounds horribly cheesy when you're recounting it but was so much fun when it was happening. i can't talk about this anymore - i'm never watching another romantic comedy again, or at least until i can feel like my experiences aren't the montage in some hack screenwriter's first act.
but fuck that. they were beautiful, (dare i say it) meaningful experiences - they may have borne more than a passing resemblance to all of that schmaltzy drek that's forced down our throats from the moment we can say "cinderella," but they felt good when they were happening. this is how it goes, i guess, and it's a terrifying thing, because i can look at my life from one perspective and see it as my own, my experiences and feelings as genuine and irreplaceable, and then i can look at it from another and see myself as a facet of this manifold human beast and see myself as a sort of pawn, doomed to play out scene after scene of The Human Game.
it's so much more than i can even put into words - somehow the act of writing a blog entry with the knowledge that someone i know, or perhaps more intimidatingly, someone i don't know, may eventually read it makes me balk, makes my thoughts (and "Me") come off half-baked, insincere, dimwitted. i wonder how many other people are sitting right here in this very city writing this exact entry about how they don't have any
oh god. that's enough. alright, let's stop with the metameta bullshit - no one's even reading this anyway, so i may as well come out with something straight and readable, something i'll be able to look back on and actually use. so here's the real story, because that's what we're here for, right?: i came back from mexico, had a harrowing experience that left me with a sprained ankle and sense of malaise i can't quite shake (the realization that, a la don juan, my death is indeed sitting - lying in wait - on my left shoulder), taught Nature and got a sweet tan. i met an incredibly sweet guy, a quiet, smart person who brought me flowers for no apparent reason other than that he really likes me (something no one has ever done as far as i can remember), a guy who has that really sexy pair of muscles that stand out on his lower abdomen and what can only be described as Soccer Legs, and we had a tremendous amount of fun, and then i moved to (back) to New York City. i started working for an ESL school, and my students were from all corners of the globe, and i learned more about how to be a good teacher from them, and i saw a bunch of people i hadn't seen in a while. i also realized that i have to tow my own load now financially, that i am indeed a Grown-Up (Groan-Up, more like), and that i am the only person directly responsible for myself and my sense of satisfaction. and there is much much more to tell, and i will be endeavoring to tell it, if i can only get out of my own way long enough to see that it doesn't matter if 10,000 other people almost exactly like me are having the same experiences because this is my goddamn life and my goddamn story.
(...and no one is reading this anyway.)
it's not so bad. the people are great, and their english is so good they can absorb - and even respond to! - my pseudo-philosophical rambling. the things that really suck about it are 1) only sleeping in once a week, 2) working 9-5 both days of the weekend, and 3) my creepy boss. i have a lot of creative freedom, half days from monday to thursday, and, because of the unrestrictive curriculum, a renewed interest in doing the work necessary to keep a classroom afloat. i would even go so far as to say that i'm honing my craft, and that i might even be more suited to working with this population than i am to working with NYC teenagers. or am i? only time will tell - because god may strike me dead if i don't get myself a Real Teaching Job soon. or at least get the weekends off.
y otras cosas - ahora hay un hombre en mi vida. we met this summer and it was like something out of a nora ephron movie (well, if nora ephron movies had protagonists who think actual thoughts and/or smoke drugs) complete with starlit beach cuddling, couples mini-golf and a bunch of other stuff that i am ashamed to say i totally enjoyed... the kind of stuff that sounds horribly cheesy when you're recounting it but was so much fun when it was happening. i can't talk about this anymore - i'm never watching another romantic comedy again, or at least until i can feel like my experiences aren't the montage in some hack screenwriter's first act.
but fuck that. they were beautiful, (dare i say it) meaningful experiences - they may have borne more than a passing resemblance to all of that schmaltzy drek that's forced down our throats from the moment we can say "cinderella," but they felt good when they were happening. this is how it goes, i guess, and it's a terrifying thing, because i can look at my life from one perspective and see it as my own, my experiences and feelings as genuine and irreplaceable, and then i can look at it from another and see myself as a facet of this manifold human beast and see myself as a sort of pawn, doomed to play out scene after scene of The Human Game.
it's so much more than i can even put into words - somehow the act of writing a blog entry with the knowledge that someone i know, or perhaps more intimidatingly, someone i don't know, may eventually read it makes me balk, makes my thoughts (and "Me") come off half-baked, insincere, dimwitted. i wonder how many other people are sitting right here in this very city writing this exact entry about how they don't have any
oh god. that's enough. alright, let's stop with the metameta bullshit - no one's even reading this anyway, so i may as well come out with something straight and readable, something i'll be able to look back on and actually use. so here's the real story, because that's what we're here for, right?: i came back from mexico, had a harrowing experience that left me with a sprained ankle and sense of malaise i can't quite shake (the realization that, a la don juan, my death is indeed sitting - lying in wait - on my left shoulder), taught Nature and got a sweet tan. i met an incredibly sweet guy, a quiet, smart person who brought me flowers for no apparent reason other than that he really likes me (something no one has ever done as far as i can remember), a guy who has that really sexy pair of muscles that stand out on his lower abdomen and what can only be described as Soccer Legs, and we had a tremendous amount of fun, and then i moved to (back) to New York City. i started working for an ESL school, and my students were from all corners of the globe, and i learned more about how to be a good teacher from them, and i saw a bunch of people i hadn't seen in a while. i also realized that i have to tow my own load now financially, that i am indeed a Grown-Up (Groan-Up, more like), and that i am the only person directly responsible for myself and my sense of satisfaction. and there is much much more to tell, and i will be endeavoring to tell it, if i can only get out of my own way long enough to see that it doesn't matter if 10,000 other people almost exactly like me are having the same experiences because this is my goddamn life and my goddamn story.
(...and no one is reading this anyway.)
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