You never think it is going to happen. Or at least I never think it's going to happen. I was walking along the street in this beautiful foreign city, the last city on my European itinerary, and I swear I see a friend whom I met in a previous European capital walking toward me. I stop and watch her pass. It couldn't be! Why would SHE be HERE? I consider yelling out her name in hopes that she will turn, but I don't risk the embarrassment if it isn't her, but just one of those "I swear I saw your exact double" episodes. I decide I will email her and ask her if she happens to be here. A much less risky option.
She resonds quickly and lets me know that I am not crazy, I did not see her exact double, and yes, she is in town for a couple weeks. You never think it is going to happen. She is staying with a friend of her family named Eddie. Eddie is here doing reserach for some Ph. D. he is working on. We quickly makes planes to meet for a drink at her (well, actually Eddie's) place later in the week.
She is waiting downstairs outside of her apartment with her two lesbian friends. I am feeling bad because I am unfortunately late. She leads me up the winding stairs and up to her (well, actually Eddie's) apartment.
Eddie is beautiful. He is tall, with broad shoulders, and strong legs. He is wearing plaid shorts that hang low on his waist to reveal the waist band of a pair of sexy, masculine, blue cotton boxers. He wears his shorts and shirt and glasses, as well as his hair, in that haphazazrd academic way that says "I am too busy being smart to care about what I look like". Such casual confidence and aloofness is incredibly sexy. His shrt just happens to have the words "Mr. Perfect" written in big red letters across his manly muscled chest.
I begin to make converstation about the nature of Academic social life with my friend and her guests in order to keep my self from staring at the Post-Graduate hunk sitting at the computer in the next room (he has a pen dangling from his mouth in that oh-so tittilating way that the intellectual elite do when they are lost in thought). Trying to keep the conversation moving in order to keep my attention diverted from my new found crush, I tell a story about a lesbian I knew at University who, without my glasses on, looked like a gorgeous boy.
"Well, you see, as a gay man with glasses", I begin.
"I'm a gay man with glasses", my T.A. fantasy of a academic casually remarks as he walks by on the way to the kitchen.
(What! How perfect for me, Mr. Perfect) This can not get any better, hot, smart, academic, and a FAGGOT. You never think it's going to happen!
My friend, the two lesbians, and the homo intellectual and I leave the apartment to go get ice cream. The academic and I make conversation as our group makes our way down the street. The ladies get some ice cream, but the two fags refrain from fatty deserts. We stop off at a bridge to enjoy the view. My conversation with the intellectual is awkward, but not painful. I am afraid of saying something stupid, and the fact he is so intelligent makes me very cautious. I don't want to come on too strong, but am afraid of not coming on strong enough.
The ladies have to go back to the apartment for a second to pee. The Academic and I are left alone. On a bridge. In a beautiful European City. (Kiss me!) He doesn't. The Ladies return.
The academic suggests we make our way back to the apartment. He has to call his mother in the states who is out of the hospital today.
On our way to back to the apartment, I mention to the lesbians that I am smitten. They laugh. Appartently it is obvious...
The night has come to an end. The lesbians leave. I start to leave but am desperately hoping I will be asked to stay awhile longer. No such luck...
"Nice meeting you", he says as he shakes my hand (Why does he not embrace the cultural practice and kiss me on both cheeks?), "We should wander the gay neighbourhood sometime if you are interested." (Of Course I am!)
You never think it's going to happen. And it doesn't. Not like how you want it to, and not how like you expect it to. But what is important is not that it doesn't happen like you expect, but that something unexpected does happen. If everything turned out like our dreams, fantasies, and fairy tales, the world would be boring. So what! he didn't kiss me on the bridge that moment we were alone? So what! he didn't aske me to stay longer and so we could spend time together? These are the fairytales of Hollywood romances. These are fairytales of the past. You never think it's going to happen and it didn't. At least not like the fairytales of the past. But who know what comes next in this fairy's tale that is being told in the present... Possibility.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Thursday, July 13, 2006
The European Experience # 88
I hadn't noticed him at first. I had walked by him and his friend before sitting down. After glancing them over thoroughly, I quickly concluded his friend had mediocre features and an uninspiring physique while, on the opposing end of the spectrum, he was beautiful. He was an adolescent Adonis; he lived at the moment before loosing innocence, but still exuded the charm of youthful confidence living life laissez-faire. The moment I saw him was the moment I saw him see me: We both smiled.
I had come to sit near the fountain in the park to enjoy Oscar Wilde's "The Artist as Critic", or is is called "Criticism as Art", I can't remember,I was finding it difficult to concentrate at that moment. The fountain came out of a large wall and poured into a wading pool that ran a length of about twenty five meters. There was a small path with chairs running along each side of the wading pool. The attractive youth and I happened to be sitting along the same side of the wading pool, ten meters apart.
I attempted to read, but my eyes kept on wandering over to my Personal Adonis and his eyes seem to meet mine as I stared. Neither of us having the courage to do anything about our unspoken desires, this continued for some time.
Finally, to my dismay, he and his friend got up to leave. As he passed, our eyes made the most intense contact they had thus far: We stared eye to eye for a breathless moment that seemed to both last forever and for only a mere instant at the same time. But all good things must end no matter how long or short they seem, and my muse passed me by.
But he and his friend soon returned. They sat down at two chairs right next to mine before I could see them coming. His friend sat with his back next to me and Adonis sat facing his friend directly. This allowed for Adonis to look directly at me, over his friends shoulder, as they were conversing. Without appearing downright rude, Adonis and I stared back and forth while he seemed to be deeply and sincerely engaged in the ramblings of his friend.
Again, neither of us had the courage to make the first move. Adonis was trapped in the conversation with his friend, and I didn't want to rudely interrupt. We both were cowards.
The time had come again, and they got up to leave. Adonis kept looking over his shoulder at me as he walked away.
Seeing that I had refrained from eating while keeping very distant company with Adonis, I got up to grab a bite shortly after they left.
After lunch, I had returned to the fountain to read (maybe this time I would be able to get through that first sentenced I had read over and over again). This time I sat on the opposite side of the wading pool. Again, Adonis walked by where I was formerly sitting, but because I had chosen a new local to sit and read, five feet of water separated us. Instead of very inconspicuously walking down one side of the wading pool, to walk up the other side of the wading pool only to not-so-subtlely sit right next to me again, they walked down the side of the wading pool, crossed the width of the water at the opposing end of fountain, and sat themselves ten meters directly behind me in the park.
I adjusted my chair so I could easily turn my head to make eye contact. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was high, and it was hot, yet I continued my warm-waiting-watching game. Now that he was not so close, he was boldly staring at me and making his intentions known. I still did nothing.
How long could this go on?
Finally, I do something. I reach into my bag, pull out a pen and my notebook where I write dates, phone numbers, and any other little bit of information I don't want to forget. I turn my head to look at him, turn back, and then... I begin to write.
He is currently sitting behind me as I write this. Occasionally, I look over my shoulder and our eyes meet. I do not have the courage to act, only the courage to write, and that is not much courage at all. But now that I have recorded the events (or lack there of) in the immortal realm of the written word, there is nothing left to do but do. My life will not be a life of words, but a life of action ( that is, 'action' in both senses of the word). Words are dead. Action is living.
I had come to sit near the fountain in the park to enjoy Oscar Wilde's "The Artist as Critic", or is is called "Criticism as Art", I can't remember,I was finding it difficult to concentrate at that moment. The fountain came out of a large wall and poured into a wading pool that ran a length of about twenty five meters. There was a small path with chairs running along each side of the wading pool. The attractive youth and I happened to be sitting along the same side of the wading pool, ten meters apart.
I attempted to read, but my eyes kept on wandering over to my Personal Adonis and his eyes seem to meet mine as I stared. Neither of us having the courage to do anything about our unspoken desires, this continued for some time.
Finally, to my dismay, he and his friend got up to leave. As he passed, our eyes made the most intense contact they had thus far: We stared eye to eye for a breathless moment that seemed to both last forever and for only a mere instant at the same time. But all good things must end no matter how long or short they seem, and my muse passed me by.
But he and his friend soon returned. They sat down at two chairs right next to mine before I could see them coming. His friend sat with his back next to me and Adonis sat facing his friend directly. This allowed for Adonis to look directly at me, over his friends shoulder, as they were conversing. Without appearing downright rude, Adonis and I stared back and forth while he seemed to be deeply and sincerely engaged in the ramblings of his friend.
Again, neither of us had the courage to make the first move. Adonis was trapped in the conversation with his friend, and I didn't want to rudely interrupt. We both were cowards.
The time had come again, and they got up to leave. Adonis kept looking over his shoulder at me as he walked away.
Seeing that I had refrained from eating while keeping very distant company with Adonis, I got up to grab a bite shortly after they left.
After lunch, I had returned to the fountain to read (maybe this time I would be able to get through that first sentenced I had read over and over again). This time I sat on the opposite side of the wading pool. Again, Adonis walked by where I was formerly sitting, but because I had chosen a new local to sit and read, five feet of water separated us. Instead of very inconspicuously walking down one side of the wading pool, to walk up the other side of the wading pool only to not-so-subtlely sit right next to me again, they walked down the side of the wading pool, crossed the width of the water at the opposing end of fountain, and sat themselves ten meters directly behind me in the park.
I adjusted my chair so I could easily turn my head to make eye contact. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was high, and it was hot, yet I continued my warm-waiting-watching game. Now that he was not so close, he was boldly staring at me and making his intentions known. I still did nothing.
How long could this go on?
Finally, I do something. I reach into my bag, pull out a pen and my notebook where I write dates, phone numbers, and any other little bit of information I don't want to forget. I turn my head to look at him, turn back, and then... I begin to write.
He is currently sitting behind me as I write this. Occasionally, I look over my shoulder and our eyes meet. I do not have the courage to act, only the courage to write, and that is not much courage at all. But now that I have recorded the events (or lack there of) in the immortal realm of the written word, there is nothing left to do but do. My life will not be a life of words, but a life of action ( that is, 'action' in both senses of the word). Words are dead. Action is living.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Sunday, July 09, 2006
The European Experience # 86
I always treasure being a part of something good and bigger than myself.
From family, to past lovers, to a cirlce of friends, to sport, to theatre...
Give yourself over to something good.
Be a part of something.
From family, to past lovers, to a cirlce of friends, to sport, to theatre...
Give yourself over to something good.
Be a part of something.
Friday, July 07, 2006
The European Experience # 85
They are twins. Identical. They are the same height. They have the same hair and eye colour. They are physically identical. Yet, when F______ is interested, when he is engaged, when he is excited, his eyes light up. No, "light up" is misleading because that would suggest that they illuminate something. No, when he is excited, you can see something within his eyes. You can see him see, not only the world, but something about the world that is beautiful and new and inspiring. Maybe his eyes do "light up" and illuminate; they illuminate the possiblity of something extraordinary in this world. Yet, when his eyes light, I would rather forsake this world and watch only him, because in that moment, he is beautiful and new and inspiring. His eyes reveal depths so mysterious that he does not even know their truths. Such mysteries piques the curiousity of my soul. The way his eyes reveal the unknown recesses of his person evoke awe and wonder. I could watch him 'see' forever. But only him, not his twin. They look the same, but they don't look the same.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
The European Experience # 84
Go!
I am tired.
Go!
The pressure to accomplish is overwhelming.
Go!
I am tired.
Go!
Go!
The body can not be ignored.
Go!
Can pleasure not be derrived from just being?
Go!
The culture of achieving is overwhelming.
Go!
Go!
Does this have to be called being lazy?
Go!
I am tired.
Go!
Go!
GO!
If it wasn't for all this going, I wouldn't be so tired.
I am tired.
Go!
The pressure to accomplish is overwhelming.
Go!
I am tired.
Go!
Go!
The body can not be ignored.
Go!
Can pleasure not be derrived from just being?
Go!
The culture of achieving is overwhelming.
Go!
Go!
Does this have to be called being lazy?
Go!
I am tired.
Go!
Go!
GO!
If it wasn't for all this going, I wouldn't be so tired.
Monday, July 03, 2006
The European Experience # 83
They are twins. Identical. The same, but different.
I met them three days ago.
They both wore sneakers, jeans, and t-shirts. The t-shirts were exactly the same, with a white lining around neck and sleeves. Except, one was red and the other was blue. Their sneaker were white, except one pair were Puma and the other Converse. They are the same, but different.
I have a difficult time telling them apart. The following morning they had changed colours: One wore a red shirt (different from the day before) and the other a blue shirt(also a different shirt from the day before). I think they also swapped sneakers, but having difficulty telling them apart, they might not have exchanged shoes. Yesterday the one wearing red was wearing puma runners, the other wore blue and converse sneakers. Today the one wearing blue was the one who was wearing red and he is presently wearing the puma runners. Ok. They did not switch footwear. They are the same, but different.
They both enjoy shwarmas. They both eat their french fries before they eat anything else on their plate. They both prefer ketchup over mayo. Except one doesn't eat onions and the other doesn't eat tomatoes. They are the same, different.
They both are very active and do well in school. Though, one wins essay prizes while the other is on the national youth football team. The football player carries a wee bit more muscle then the other, but the other has a better grasp of language. You can hardly tell the difference between them physically, only if you look very closely. They are the same, but different.
Today the twins taught me how to play tennis (again, a new sport in a different language). Tennis and golf are the same, but different. Both require using a specific implement to hit a ball in order to win. The ball of one game is hard and the ball of another is flexible. The implement of one game is a long stick with a small surface for contact with the ball, the other is short with a large surface for contact the ball. One game is won by the player with the lowest score, the other is won by the player with the highest score. The are the same, but different.
Between here and there, and then and now, I have discovered that I have grown. I now play golf and tennis. I am a twin of my former self. I am the same, but different.
I met them three days ago.
They both wore sneakers, jeans, and t-shirts. The t-shirts were exactly the same, with a white lining around neck and sleeves. Except, one was red and the other was blue. Their sneaker were white, except one pair were Puma and the other Converse. They are the same, but different.
I have a difficult time telling them apart. The following morning they had changed colours: One wore a red shirt (different from the day before) and the other a blue shirt(also a different shirt from the day before). I think they also swapped sneakers, but having difficulty telling them apart, they might not have exchanged shoes. Yesterday the one wearing red was wearing puma runners, the other wore blue and converse sneakers. Today the one wearing blue was the one who was wearing red and he is presently wearing the puma runners. Ok. They did not switch footwear. They are the same, but different.
They both enjoy shwarmas. They both eat their french fries before they eat anything else on their plate. They both prefer ketchup over mayo. Except one doesn't eat onions and the other doesn't eat tomatoes. They are the same, different.
They both are very active and do well in school. Though, one wins essay prizes while the other is on the national youth football team. The football player carries a wee bit more muscle then the other, but the other has a better grasp of language. You can hardly tell the difference between them physically, only if you look very closely. They are the same, but different.
Today the twins taught me how to play tennis (again, a new sport in a different language). Tennis and golf are the same, but different. Both require using a specific implement to hit a ball in order to win. The ball of one game is hard and the ball of another is flexible. The implement of one game is a long stick with a small surface for contact with the ball, the other is short with a large surface for contact the ball. One game is won by the player with the lowest score, the other is won by the player with the highest score. The are the same, but different.
Between here and there, and then and now, I have discovered that I have grown. I now play golf and tennis. I am a twin of my former self. I am the same, but different.
Friday, June 30, 2006
A Note From My Life At Home
The Philosopher and I met, for the first time, exactly four years ago today.
He was the primary influence for the birth of my blog.
He has also been an inspiration for me in a great many of my other endeavours.
The Philosopher is a good man. No. The Philosopher is a great man.
My thoughts turn to you today Philosopher. More than usual.
Thank you.
He was the primary influence for the birth of my blog.
He has also been an inspiration for me in a great many of my other endeavours.
The Philosopher is a good man. No. The Philosopher is a great man.
My thoughts turn to you today Philosopher. More than usual.
Thank you.
The European Experience # 81
I have stayed for exactly how long it takes to finsih a box of cereal if you eat one bowl each and every morning.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
The European Experience # 80
I think, because of the circumstances of my travels and their effect on my diet, I am gaining weight. I have discovered a layer of fat over my abdomen. This is not what I wanted to gain from my time abroad.
The European Experience # 77
I have never drunk so much champagne. I am talking about both over an extended period of time and all at once: Last night I participated in being one of fourteen people who drank fourteen bottles of top notch champagne in a matter of four hours, and I have probably drank a similar amount with another good friend of mine since I arrived ten days ago.
I also drank a bottle of wine that was old enough to be my mother (thats over fifty years old!)
Life is good. That seems to be the case somehow whereever I go.
'Life is good' is universal.
I also drank a bottle of wine that was old enough to be my mother (thats over fifty years old!)
Life is good. That seems to be the case somehow whereever I go.
'Life is good' is universal.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
The European Experience # 76
Golf again today.
Maybe I don't like golf.
If I really wanted that ball in that hole, I would pick it up and put it there myself. This swinging at it business is not very efficient.
Maybe I don't like golf.
If I really wanted that ball in that hole, I would pick it up and put it there myself. This swinging at it business is not very efficient.
The European Experience # 75
The food here has an interesting consistency. It consistently has an interesting consistency. It is consistent in consistently having an interesting consistency.
Monday, June 26, 2006
The European Experience # 74
Golf again today.
Like many things in life, the goal of golf is simple. You aim to hit the ball with the club in such a fashion that the force of the club transfers with the least resistance to the ball forcing the ball to fly the greatest possible distance supplied by said force.
But like many things in life, somehow, something makes this simple goal infinately more complicated.
There are two ways to approach learning golf (as far as I can tell): constructive and deconstructive. The constructive approach consists of 'building a swing'; that is to say, teaching the particular parts of your body to produce a motion that will result in the goal of golf mentioned above. The deconstructive approach consists of altering, shifting, or manipulating the natural tendencies of the golfer in order to produce a motion that will result in the goal of golf mentioned above. The deconstructive approach effectively aims to remove the golfer, with his particular bodily tensions, strengths, weaknesses, and movement inclinations, and leave behind the 'perfect swing'.
Although I continue to deconstruct my swing, there have been fluke moments when, my club effortlessly descends and hits the white ball at that divine angle and the ball soars.
In this zen moment, pure physics, in all its simple beauty, is revealed unto me.
Like many things in life, the goal of golf is simple. You aim to hit the ball with the club in such a fashion that the force of the club transfers with the least resistance to the ball forcing the ball to fly the greatest possible distance supplied by said force.
But like many things in life, somehow, something makes this simple goal infinately more complicated.
There are two ways to approach learning golf (as far as I can tell): constructive and deconstructive. The constructive approach consists of 'building a swing'; that is to say, teaching the particular parts of your body to produce a motion that will result in the goal of golf mentioned above. The deconstructive approach consists of altering, shifting, or manipulating the natural tendencies of the golfer in order to produce a motion that will result in the goal of golf mentioned above. The deconstructive approach effectively aims to remove the golfer, with his particular bodily tensions, strengths, weaknesses, and movement inclinations, and leave behind the 'perfect swing'.
Although I continue to deconstruct my swing, there have been fluke moments when, my club effortlessly descends and hits the white ball at that divine angle and the ball soars.
In this zen moment, pure physics, in all its simple beauty, is revealed unto me.
The European Experience # 73
Most of the time I have know idea what is happening around here.
This is a product of having a rudimentary ability to comprehend and speak the language.
Being in an environment in which there is a 'language barrier' I find myself in a similar position as an infant. I know what I want to communicate to others, but I do not have the capacity to express my needs in a language that will be understood by my intended audience. It would be false to assert that I am achieving the status of a pre-linguistic self. I have acquired a 'language', just not language that functions where I currently reside. I do though experience the frustration of not being understood, which, I imagine is similar to that of a baby.
Nonetheless, there are benefits to the aforementioned 'language barrier'.
When you don't know what is happening, it is amazing to discover what does.
This is a product of having a rudimentary ability to comprehend and speak the language.
Being in an environment in which there is a 'language barrier' I find myself in a similar position as an infant. I know what I want to communicate to others, but I do not have the capacity to express my needs in a language that will be understood by my intended audience. It would be false to assert that I am achieving the status of a pre-linguistic self. I have acquired a 'language', just not language that functions where I currently reside. I do though experience the frustration of not being understood, which, I imagine is similar to that of a baby.
Nonetheless, there are benefits to the aforementioned 'language barrier'.
When you don't know what is happening, it is amazing to discover what does.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The European Experience # 71
They have a day here to celebrate cinema (as well as music).
Tell me a good story.
Tell me things I didn't know.
Tell me about people I haven't met.
Tell me about love, hate, betrayl, family, friends, loss, laughter, and life.
Tell me about far away places and the place that I think I know too well.
Tell me about politics, and social problems, and what it's like to be rich or poor.
Tell me relationships.
Tell me about culture.
Tell me all the things that are good and bad in the world.
Tell me a good story.
Or in the case of film.
Show me.
They have a day here to celebrate cinema.
What a grand idea?
Tell me a good story.
Tell me things I didn't know.
Tell me about people I haven't met.
Tell me about love, hate, betrayl, family, friends, loss, laughter, and life.
Tell me about far away places and the place that I think I know too well.
Tell me about politics, and social problems, and what it's like to be rich or poor.
Tell me relationships.
Tell me about culture.
Tell me all the things that are good and bad in the world.
Tell me a good story.
Or in the case of film.
Show me.
They have a day here to celebrate cinema.
What a grand idea?
Saturday, June 24, 2006
The European Experience # 69
The people here are stylish.
They wear their clothes as if they were wearing their bodies.
They wear their clothes as if they were wearing their bodies.
Friday, June 23, 2006
The European Experience # 67
I drove in a car that has a Global Position System.
You do not know where I am, but a satellite in the sky does.
A GPS System has the capacity to map out and identify the entire planet.
I may be discovering this continent for the first time, but it has already been map and charted by someone else.
The World is no longer innocent.
You do not know where I am, but a satellite in the sky does.
A GPS System has the capacity to map out and identify the entire planet.
I may be discovering this continent for the first time, but it has already been map and charted by someone else.
The World is no longer innocent.
The European Experience # 66
Golf again today. Who knew I liked golf?
I play piano a lot here. I knew I liked playing piano.
Golf is like piano. You practice and practice. Repetition is key. You fix your mistakes and try again. Over and over. You begin to improve.
The following day, you try again, and begin to see, ever so subtly, that the corrections and repetition of the previous day, is effortlessly present, at least in the smallest detail.
The satisfaction of progress.
I play piano a lot here. I knew I liked playing piano.
Golf is like piano. You practice and practice. Repetition is key. You fix your mistakes and try again. Over and over. You begin to improve.
The following day, you try again, and begin to see, ever so subtly, that the corrections and repetition of the previous day, is effortlessly present, at least in the smallest detail.
The satisfaction of progress.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
The European Experience # 65
Today I played golf in a different language.
With my new friend. She is old enough to be my mother.
The world continues to reveal it's mysteries to me.
With my new friend. She is old enough to be my mother.
The world continues to reveal it's mysteries to me.
The European Experience # 64
Before I left, I knew the Eiffel Tower was here, and the Canals, and the hot beaches and Gaudi Architecture, and Buckingham Palace, and the Colliseum.
What I didn't know about this place is the astounding diversity of thought?
Different people from different places think different things.
Diversity is universal.
What I didn't know about this place is the astounding diversity of thought?
Different people from different places think different things.
Diversity is universal.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
The European Experience # 63
They have a special day set aside to Celebrate Music here. That day is today.
I have heard Liszt on a pipe organ and pop/rock in the streets. I have heard a choir of twenty young girls sing as angels and then, moments later, rap. I have heard progressive music around the corner from ska. I have heard Norah Jones, "Come On Eileen", Maroon Five, and "Makin' Whoopee" all sung in different languages, or in bad bad Anglophone accents. I have seen line dancing (in Europe!), swing dancing, and rave dancing and even Capoeira.
Today they set aside time and money to celebrate music. Come one, come all, come old, come young, come rich, come poor, it is all for you, free of charge, let your soul take flight, just listen and your heart will fly.
This is the day that they celebrate music.
What a Grand Idea?
I have heard Liszt on a pipe organ and pop/rock in the streets. I have heard a choir of twenty young girls sing as angels and then, moments later, rap. I have heard progressive music around the corner from ska. I have heard Norah Jones, "Come On Eileen", Maroon Five, and "Makin' Whoopee" all sung in different languages, or in bad bad Anglophone accents. I have seen line dancing (in Europe!), swing dancing, and rave dancing and even Capoeira.
Today they set aside time and money to celebrate music. Come one, come all, come old, come young, come rich, come poor, it is all for you, free of charge, let your soul take flight, just listen and your heart will fly.
This is the day that they celebrate music.
What a Grand Idea?
Saturday, June 17, 2006
The European Experience # 62
Thursday morning. It is raining. I am far from home. The bartender tells me so. Hearing it from someone else reminds me it is true. It is odd to drink beer before noon, but I am on holiday. These are the facts.
There is a different kind of lonely when so far from home. When at home friends are close but unavailable for company. Here, friends are so far removed (rather you are so far removed from them) that there is no other possibility than to be on your own. I am on my own. The woman on the train told me so yesterday. Hearing it from someone else reminds me it is true.
I am free. From any obligation. "The World is my oyster" Except I don't like oysters, even though they are an aphrodisiac. The world is mine to discover. Except that Christopher Columbus already finished that deed a long time ago. There is no innocent place left in the world. I still love the world. Oh world! offer me everything but ask nothing in return.
The longer I am away from home, the more I believe the world has already offered it's greatest gift. "Nothing unknown is knowable." So why go on searching? There is a difference between thinking something is true and knowing something is true. Why go on searching? Experiencing it reminds me it is true.
There is a different kind of lonely when so far from home. When at home friends are close but unavailable for company. Here, friends are so far removed (rather you are so far removed from them) that there is no other possibility than to be on your own. I am on my own. The woman on the train told me so yesterday. Hearing it from someone else reminds me it is true.
I am free. From any obligation. "The World is my oyster" Except I don't like oysters, even though they are an aphrodisiac. The world is mine to discover. Except that Christopher Columbus already finished that deed a long time ago. There is no innocent place left in the world. I still love the world. Oh world! offer me everything but ask nothing in return.
The longer I am away from home, the more I believe the world has already offered it's greatest gift. "Nothing unknown is knowable." So why go on searching? There is a difference between thinking something is true and knowing something is true. Why go on searching? Experiencing it reminds me it is true.
The European Experience # 59
Just being here is an experience.
Just being here is enough.
Just being is enough.
Just being here is enough.
Just being is enough.
The European Experience # 58
It is comforting to know that it is not in the nature of any particular place to disappear.
There is always time to return to this place or any other.
There is always time.
There is always time to return to this place or any other.
There is always time.
The European Experience # 55
I do not understand how some believe that the world can be alienating.
The world offers so much to love.
The world offers so much to love.
Monday, June 12, 2006
The European Experience # 54
Where are the art works that are a product of here and now?
Where are the art works that are a product of someone who lives and know this world?
Wheer are the art works that represent life here and now?
The art work of the canon are beautiful. Stunning. They have achieved this timeless for a reason...
But...
Museums are graveyards and the canoncial works of art are tombstones.
Where are the art works that are a product of someone who lives and know this world?
Wheer are the art works that represent life here and now?
The art work of the canon are beautiful. Stunning. They have achieved this timeless for a reason...
But...
Museums are graveyards and the canoncial works of art are tombstones.
The European Experience # 52
"To get to know someone who is ______________ well, and intimately, and as a true friend, you must speak _____________.", he tells me. He has lived here for sometime, but was not born here. He should know.
The European Experience # 51
At home, I am a participant of culture. Here, I am a consumer of culture.
The European Experience # 50
It has been an awful day. Maybe the worst day of my life (but I am always wary of such grand over-arcing statements)
I call my mother.
I cry.
A mother's love is universal.
I call my mother.
I cry.
A mother's love is universal.
The European Experience # 49
The idiot box. The boob tube.
"It rots your brain"
Many people spend countless hours with their eyes aglaze when they could be in the theatre, at the museum, or reading a book.
If you are an addict or not...
If you are a surfer or not...
If you have it on just for the noise...
Television is a definate representation of a nations cultural landscape.
Television is universal...
(At least in the places I have been)
"It rots your brain"
Many people spend countless hours with their eyes aglaze when they could be in the theatre, at the museum, or reading a book.
If you are an addict or not...
If you are a surfer or not...
If you have it on just for the noise...
Television is a definate representation of a nations cultural landscape.
Television is universal...
(At least in the places I have been)
The European Experience # 48
I am sweaty. I have spent the day wandering the streets in the hot hot hot sun. Still...
He is wearing a suit. He has long hair which is very popular with young men here in Europe.
His eyes pierce me with the razor of desire. I have seen that look before.
The look of love is universal.
He is wearing a suit. He has long hair which is very popular with young men here in Europe.
His eyes pierce me with the razor of desire. I have seen that look before.
The look of love is universal.
Friday, June 09, 2006
The European Experience # 47
'' I didn't see the Mona Lisa. You can't even take pictures of it, so what's the point?'', says the fat American.
Photos capture experience in a form that is possessable. It is true that we 'have experiences', but in today's world of consumerism and capitalism, to have an experience that is relegated to the depths of memory once its temporal existence has terminated is not enough. It is popular as a tourist to record every moment of an experience away from home by capturing in photography. These efforts transform an experience into an object- something that can be held and displayed. It is not enough to 'have' an experience, we must 'possess' an experience, we must 'own' an experience, by transforming that experience into a photo that we can frame and put on our mantle piece.
Such an examination of the purpose of photography in tourism calls into question the connection between livng (the accumulation of experience over time) and society's current paradigm of consumer culture. Are we at an age in which living is only valid or valuable if it can be reduced into an object? Consider all the junk that they sell at the mega-musicals? Is not the art enough? Why do we need a 'thing' in order to validate our experiences?
Over the past three and a half weeks I have taken 555 photos in Europe. I do not think that I am in anyway attempting to capture my experience here. I feel that my experience, here in Europe, and at home, is not able to be reduced into a mere photo, at least a photo taken by such a layman as myself (maybe a true artist could manage to capture a moment of my experience in a photo, but not me). My photos are often a mere exercise in my own attempt to make art out of what I see - not connected to my experience, but rather connected to the geometry of my surroundings. Often my photos provide evidence for a particular scenario or story I wish to share with friends and family on my return home. But these stories exist outside of my own personal experience, and are stories that belong to the places and people I come across on my journey.
Unlike my fat American acquaintance, the Mona Lisa was a part of my journey here, despite the fact they will not like me take a picture.
Photos capture experience in a form that is possessable. It is true that we 'have experiences', but in today's world of consumerism and capitalism, to have an experience that is relegated to the depths of memory once its temporal existence has terminated is not enough. It is popular as a tourist to record every moment of an experience away from home by capturing in photography. These efforts transform an experience into an object- something that can be held and displayed. It is not enough to 'have' an experience, we must 'possess' an experience, we must 'own' an experience, by transforming that experience into a photo that we can frame and put on our mantle piece.
Such an examination of the purpose of photography in tourism calls into question the connection between livng (the accumulation of experience over time) and society's current paradigm of consumer culture. Are we at an age in which living is only valid or valuable if it can be reduced into an object? Consider all the junk that they sell at the mega-musicals? Is not the art enough? Why do we need a 'thing' in order to validate our experiences?
Over the past three and a half weeks I have taken 555 photos in Europe. I do not think that I am in anyway attempting to capture my experience here. I feel that my experience, here in Europe, and at home, is not able to be reduced into a mere photo, at least a photo taken by such a layman as myself (maybe a true artist could manage to capture a moment of my experience in a photo, but not me). My photos are often a mere exercise in my own attempt to make art out of what I see - not connected to my experience, but rather connected to the geometry of my surroundings. Often my photos provide evidence for a particular scenario or story I wish to share with friends and family on my return home. But these stories exist outside of my own personal experience, and are stories that belong to the places and people I come across on my journey.
Unlike my fat American acquaintance, the Mona Lisa was a part of my journey here, despite the fact they will not like me take a picture.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
The European Experience # 46
I buy groceries. I sleep in a room with five other people. I spent most of my time alone. I do not speak the national language. I rarely eat fast food. I am unshaven. I go to Tourist destinations. I have no place to be at any particular time.
I will not attempt to capture what is foreign about this place in mere words. I do not believe I am entitled to reduce a whole nation of people and their culture into a mere blog post. Nor will I bore you with the inane little details that are slightly different here than where I come from.
What I can tell you is that here,
my life is foreign.
It is not like my life at home.
I will not attempt to capture what is foreign about this place in mere words. I do not believe I am entitled to reduce a whole nation of people and their culture into a mere blog post. Nor will I bore you with the inane little details that are slightly different here than where I come from.
What I can tell you is that here,
my life is foreign.
It is not like my life at home.
The European Experience # 44
"Picasso is like a cover band" the girl says to her fried as a crowd examines one of his 'Masterpieces'.
Nothing is Original.
Is that universal?
Nothing is Original.
Is that universal?
Sunday, June 04, 2006
The European Experience #44
It is Saturday night. I don´t know where to go or what to do.
´Hello´
I did´t see him sneak up behind me. He is older, far too tanned, and wears his hair slicked back. He is wearing a poshblazer so I figure he might be interested/capable in/of buying me drinks all night like that British bloke who entertained me two nights ago (who begrudingly, but respectfully, left me on my own toward the end of the night so I could find other more suitable company). I am foreign and I suspect he is not.
´Hello,´ I respond. I am saved.
He takes me around the corner to a busy bar.
His name is Juan and he is from Argentina.
The more time I spend with him, the more I think I was better off alone and lost. He is cheap. He buys beer from a corner store, hides them in his pockets, and sneaks them into the bar. His tactic to appeal to things we have in commonis too aggressive (he actually says Ít´s perfect we have so much in common). Even though he apparently has great appreciation of theatre (he has seen Judi Dench in Hay Fever, Kathleen Turner in Who´s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and Alan Cumming in Cabaret), using theatre as a pick up tactic doesn´t interest me when employed insincerely. He was apparently on a reality tv show called Í m a Celebrity Get me Out of Here. I am not surprised he was the first one voted off. And he gets far too close to me whenever he leans in to talk.
Two attractive boys have noticed Juan leeching the enjoyment of my Saturday night out of me. I roll my eyes at them. I excuse myself from Juan, pretend to go to the toilet, and on my way back, stop to talk to the two attractive boys. I have escaped. I am saved.
They tell me they were hatching a plan to swoop in and rescue me from the Argentinian. I am flattered.
At first glance (when rolling my eyes to them whilst in Juans evil clutches). I figured Roberto (the Italian version of my father's name) was the pretty one. Yes, Robert has an incredible body, a great jaw line, and blonde hair, but Stephano (the Italian version of my name) who oozes personality and sexuality.
Robert and Stephano invite me to a club called Salvation.
After spending time walking with Roberto and Stephano to the club, and especially on the dance floor, I become completely smitten with Stephano. I can not keep my eyes off him. Masculinity (but not misogyny or chauvinism), confidence (but not arrogance), sex (but not sleaze), style (but not effort), fun (but not hedonism), seep from his mere being. He wears a white linen shirt that hangs from his torso, the cuffs are undone, and it is unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing fraction of his smooth chest. He has been able to achieve the miraculous feat of being both manly and boyish. His dancing is energetic (but not wild or out of control), masculine (but refined), and sexy (but not erotic). I can´t stop watching him. He takes off his shirt to reveal a lean muscled torso. Young. Masculine. Sexy. I can´t keep my eyes off him.
He swoons as a butch muscle mary walks by. He is into bigger men. Exactly who I am not.
My desire is painful.
Ít´s late, I tell them. I have to go. And I do.
I´m saved.
Sartre was right ¨Hell is Other People´. In more ways than one.
Strangers, lovers, friends (some times it is difficult to tell the three apart) are both solutions to some problems and the cause of others. Salvation isn´t just a club. People are both my salvation and my hell.
Humanity is and is not my salvation.
´Hello´
I did´t see him sneak up behind me. He is older, far too tanned, and wears his hair slicked back. He is wearing a poshblazer so I figure he might be interested/capable in/of buying me drinks all night like that British bloke who entertained me two nights ago (who begrudingly, but respectfully, left me on my own toward the end of the night so I could find other more suitable company). I am foreign and I suspect he is not.
´Hello,´ I respond. I am saved.
He takes me around the corner to a busy bar.
His name is Juan and he is from Argentina.
The more time I spend with him, the more I think I was better off alone and lost. He is cheap. He buys beer from a corner store, hides them in his pockets, and sneaks them into the bar. His tactic to appeal to things we have in commonis too aggressive (he actually says Ít´s perfect we have so much in common). Even though he apparently has great appreciation of theatre (he has seen Judi Dench in Hay Fever, Kathleen Turner in Who´s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and Alan Cumming in Cabaret), using theatre as a pick up tactic doesn´t interest me when employed insincerely. He was apparently on a reality tv show called Í m a Celebrity Get me Out of Here. I am not surprised he was the first one voted off. And he gets far too close to me whenever he leans in to talk.
Two attractive boys have noticed Juan leeching the enjoyment of my Saturday night out of me. I roll my eyes at them. I excuse myself from Juan, pretend to go to the toilet, and on my way back, stop to talk to the two attractive boys. I have escaped. I am saved.
They tell me they were hatching a plan to swoop in and rescue me from the Argentinian. I am flattered.
At first glance (when rolling my eyes to them whilst in Juans evil clutches). I figured Roberto (the Italian version of my father's name) was the pretty one. Yes, Robert has an incredible body, a great jaw line, and blonde hair, but Stephano (the Italian version of my name) who oozes personality and sexuality.
Robert and Stephano invite me to a club called Salvation.
After spending time walking with Roberto and Stephano to the club, and especially on the dance floor, I become completely smitten with Stephano. I can not keep my eyes off him. Masculinity (but not misogyny or chauvinism), confidence (but not arrogance), sex (but not sleaze), style (but not effort), fun (but not hedonism), seep from his mere being. He wears a white linen shirt that hangs from his torso, the cuffs are undone, and it is unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing fraction of his smooth chest. He has been able to achieve the miraculous feat of being both manly and boyish. His dancing is energetic (but not wild or out of control), masculine (but refined), and sexy (but not erotic). I can´t stop watching him. He takes off his shirt to reveal a lean muscled torso. Young. Masculine. Sexy. I can´t keep my eyes off him.
He swoons as a butch muscle mary walks by. He is into bigger men. Exactly who I am not.
My desire is painful.
Ít´s late, I tell them. I have to go. And I do.
I´m saved.
Sartre was right ¨Hell is Other People´. In more ways than one.
Strangers, lovers, friends (some times it is difficult to tell the three apart) are both solutions to some problems and the cause of others. Salvation isn´t just a club. People are both my salvation and my hell.
Humanity is and is not my salvation.
The European Experience #42
I never believed that I ´had it all right´, but what if I actually have it all wrong.
The European Experience # 40
´´ I didn´t go to the Louvre. You can´t even take a picture of the Mona Lisa! What´s the point?´´, says the Fat American.
Good question.
What is the point?
Good question.
What is the point?
Friday, June 02, 2006
The European Experience # 39
´´ Nothing unknown is knowable.´´ from Angels in America by Tony Kushnir
That which is foreign is not the same as that which is unknown.
That which is foreign is what exists within ourselves, our realm of knowledge and experience, but that which we have not yet reached an adequate understanding of.
Think of a foreign language. We know it is language to begin with, we know that the sounds have a meaning a group of people have an agreed meaning upon, what is unclear is the content. That which is foreign is that which has a familiar form, but unclear content and meaning.
Love is ultimately foreign.
That which is foreign is not the same as that which is unknown.
That which is foreign is what exists within ourselves, our realm of knowledge and experience, but that which we have not yet reached an adequate understanding of.
Think of a foreign language. We know it is language to begin with, we know that the sounds have a meaning a group of people have an agreed meaning upon, what is unclear is the content. That which is foreign is that which has a familiar form, but unclear content and meaning.
Love is ultimately foreign.
The European Experience # 38
I think I am experiencing something that most people commonly call a HOLIDAY.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
The European Experience
I want a foreign lover who speaks only a foreign language and so I will not be able to understand his lies.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
The European Experience # 35
Sometimes I don't eat so I can afford to go to the theatre: I feel it feeds me better.
The European Experience # 34
The GREATEST TRAGEDY that has occurred in Europe is not World War II, but the fact they do not yet have RENT: The Movie Musical, either in cinemas nor on DVD.
'' The Opposite of War isn't Peace, It's Creation!''
'' The Opposite of War isn't Peace, It's Creation!''
The Eurpean Experience # 33
We are saying goodbye. He invited me into his apartment for tea. This time he did not kiss me on each cheek like is the custom. Instead, he pulled me close and hugged me tightly. He lingered.
Could he feel the beating of my heart?
Could he feel the beating of my heart?
The European Experience # 33
'' Eastern European's are odd.''
'' Polish men have incredible bodies.''
'' Brazilians are hot lovers.''
'' The French are rude and cold.''
'' Canadians are nice.''
'' British people speak the best English.''
Everyone feels they are entitled to judge and generalize. Everyone feels they are entitled to reduce thousands and millions of people who share a nation into four or five word sentences that completely sum up every individual who belongs to that community.
Ethnography is universal.
Entitlement is universal.
'' Polish men have incredible bodies.''
'' Brazilians are hot lovers.''
'' The French are rude and cold.''
'' Canadians are nice.''
'' British people speak the best English.''
Everyone feels they are entitled to judge and generalize. Everyone feels they are entitled to reduce thousands and millions of people who share a nation into four or five word sentences that completely sum up every individual who belongs to that community.
Ethnography is universal.
Entitlement is universal.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
The European Experience # 32
'' My name is Kris. With a K, '' he yells to me over the loud music at the club. Kris with a K makes me smile. He is an Opera singer who grooves to Old Skool Green Day.
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Every Friday afternoon at the Opera House, there is a '' tea dance ''. All the old timers get fancied up and come and dance the chacha or the Merange to a live band. There is an aged couple dancing together; the gentlemen is chacha-ing with a cane. Kris and I laugh at the beauty of the tea dance.
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Kris has snuck us into the theatre to watch a rehearsal for the ballet. The beauty takes our breath away.
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'' I will be good in this life to be reincarnated as a ballet dancer in the next, '' I said.
'' You want to live a life in pain, '' he replies.
'' Pain is part of what it is to be beautiful, '' I answer.
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'' Dancers in rehearsal wear these tattered clothes only held together by mere threads. These strategically worn vestments frame their bodies so, in their minds, the dancers say to themselves ' I am wearing these god-forsaken rags and you still want me!' ,'' Kris tells me.
I agree. I know the pain of desire.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Pain is beautiful. Beauty is painful.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The dancers krush my heart with their beautiful movement that it causes such pain in my soul.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I have a krush on Kris with a K.
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I want our hands to touch, our eyes to meet, our lips to curve into a smile.
-------------------------------------------------------------
My desire is painful.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Every Friday afternoon at the Opera House, there is a '' tea dance ''. All the old timers get fancied up and come and dance the chacha or the Merange to a live band. There is an aged couple dancing together; the gentlemen is chacha-ing with a cane. Kris and I laugh at the beauty of the tea dance.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Kris has snuck us into the theatre to watch a rehearsal for the ballet. The beauty takes our breath away.
-------------------------------------------------------------
'' I will be good in this life to be reincarnated as a ballet dancer in the next, '' I said.
'' You want to live a life in pain, '' he replies.
'' Pain is part of what it is to be beautiful, '' I answer.
-------------------------------------------------------------
'' Dancers in rehearsal wear these tattered clothes only held together by mere threads. These strategically worn vestments frame their bodies so, in their minds, the dancers say to themselves ' I am wearing these god-forsaken rags and you still want me!' ,'' Kris tells me.
I agree. I know the pain of desire.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Pain is beautiful. Beauty is painful.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The dancers krush my heart with their beautiful movement that it causes such pain in my soul.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I have a krush on Kris with a K.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I want our hands to touch, our eyes to meet, our lips to curve into a smile.
-------------------------------------------------------------
My desire is painful.
The European Experience # 31
Life is like travelling in a foreign country: In order to get where you're going you have to follow the signs. At times it is difficult (if not impossible) to read and understand the signs, at times you'll find there are apparently no visible signs and you'll get lost, at times you need other people to tell you the way, but if you just keep going, moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, you will get where you're going and learn about where you are and who you are on the way.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
The European Experience # 30
'' Paris is dead '', he says to me.
I think that this is odd, considering he is french.
Everyone wants to be somewhere else. No one wants the obligations of home.
Escape is universal.
I think that this is odd, considering he is french.
Everyone wants to be somewhere else. No one wants the obligations of home.
Escape is universal.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
What I Know About Love.
Love is both a personal and shared experience. Love is a personal feeling that is the result of a relationship between two people. Love therefore is dependent, it exists within a person, and co-dependent, it is the product of a relationship between two people..
Love is more than a feeling.
Love seems to encompass all the emotional experiences of life: (un)happiness, (dis)satisfaction, anger, jealousy, fucking and fighting, loneliness and loss (when your lover is gone), it appeals to all the senses (your lovers voice, touch, taste, etc...)
Love is a feeling that is shared directly between two people. Two people can share happiness, but that feeling is the product not of the individuals involved, but from a common reaction to something outside of the individuals involved. No other emotion is identically shared between two people.
The scary thing about love is that it is dependent on someone else. Love is out of your control. Everyone is afraid of that which is beyond control.
In many ways love is like all other human emotions: Love is dependent on things outside of the self and in the world.
Most people fear love because they fear being hurt. Being hurt is inevitable: Embrace it.
Love is a just reward.
Love is more than a feeling.
Love seems to encompass all the emotional experiences of life: (un)happiness, (dis)satisfaction, anger, jealousy, fucking and fighting, loneliness and loss (when your lover is gone), it appeals to all the senses (your lovers voice, touch, taste, etc...)
Love is a feeling that is shared directly between two people. Two people can share happiness, but that feeling is the product not of the individuals involved, but from a common reaction to something outside of the individuals involved. No other emotion is identically shared between two people.
The scary thing about love is that it is dependent on someone else. Love is out of your control. Everyone is afraid of that which is beyond control.
In many ways love is like all other human emotions: Love is dependent on things outside of the self and in the world.
Most people fear love because they fear being hurt. Being hurt is inevitable: Embrace it.
Love is a just reward.
The European Experience # 29
My blog is becoming less and less about what is universal and more and more about me.
Where ever I go, there I will be.
OR
The individual is universal.
Where ever I go, there I will be.
OR
The individual is universal.
The European Experience # 28
To be in love is not to be co-dependent.
Love is also a very selfish act. Love, like all feelings, is something that is personal. No one can feel what another feels and that is true with love.
Love is the product of a relationship. The cliche is true '' It takes two to tango''.
To reduce love the only co-dependent feeling is false. Anger, jealousy, happiness etc... all require a relationship between an individual and something in the world. Human beings do not just spontaneously feel - Emotion is inspired within us from the stuff of the real world. Love, though, is particular to a relationship between people.
Yes. I want to be in love. No. I do not need someone else to be happy. I am happy now.
I just want to feel that ineffable euphoria, that feeling that is mine and mine alone, that accompanies being in love.
I must think more on this topic.
Love is also a very selfish act. Love, like all feelings, is something that is personal. No one can feel what another feels and that is true with love.
Love is the product of a relationship. The cliche is true '' It takes two to tango''.
To reduce love the only co-dependent feeling is false. Anger, jealousy, happiness etc... all require a relationship between an individual and something in the world. Human beings do not just spontaneously feel - Emotion is inspired within us from the stuff of the real world. Love, though, is particular to a relationship between people.
Yes. I want to be in love. No. I do not need someone else to be happy. I am happy now.
I just want to feel that ineffable euphoria, that feeling that is mine and mine alone, that accompanies being in love.
I must think more on this topic.
The European Experience # 27
Yes. I have a lot of (too much?) sex.
I am chasing the dragon. Yes, sex does get me off and that feels good. But I am searching for that mind-blowing, passionate, sweaty, animal, tender, body shaking sex, lick me everywhere, kiss me softly, fuck me deeply, timed perfectly, multiple location, multiple position, hot, loud, caring, memorable, sex.
That kind of sex only comes when in love.
I want to be in love.
But not just for the sex, for all that other stuff too...
I am chasing the dragon. Yes, sex does get me off and that feels good. But I am searching for that mind-blowing, passionate, sweaty, animal, tender, body shaking sex, lick me everywhere, kiss me softly, fuck me deeply, timed perfectly, multiple location, multiple position, hot, loud, caring, memorable, sex.
That kind of sex only comes when in love.
I want to be in love.
But not just for the sex, for all that other stuff too...
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
The European Experience # 26
'' You always have a lover waiting at home for you, '' the Slovakian says to me (the same boy who coined the term ' spicy ')
I don't have a lover waiting for me. Anywhere...
I just have fabulous friends who are willing to share their lives with me whenever I reach out to them. And I am making new friends everyday...
I don't have a lover waiting for me. Anywhere...
I just have fabulous friends who are willing to share their lives with me whenever I reach out to them. And I am making new friends everyday...
The European Experience # 25
'' Philosophy has no other aim that tailoring a tight jacket to fit what exists - a mathematical straight jacket '' - Geoerge Batailles
I like this quote.
I like this quote.
The European Experience # 23
They sit in tall grass in the park. They nuzzle; he kisses her neck and she coos with delight. They look into each others eyes on a warm Wednesday afternoon in the park. They are in love.
Romance in universal.
Romance in universal.
The European Experience # 22
It is a coincidence. Or maybe not... The World is small.
The asshole who left me with a pen in my hand and no phone number is at the bar. For whatever reason, he feels compelled to talk to me again.
'' That boy is spicy '', he tells me randomly during our conversation. He is pointing to a blonde shirtless Adonis youth. The boy has that rare quality to be both beautiful, desireable, and erotic all at once.
'' Yes. '' I agree out loud. ''Spicy'' means hot I think to myself.
Miscommunication is universal.
The asshole who left me with a pen in my hand and no phone number is at the bar. For whatever reason, he feels compelled to talk to me again.
'' That boy is spicy '', he tells me randomly during our conversation. He is pointing to a blonde shirtless Adonis youth. The boy has that rare quality to be both beautiful, desireable, and erotic all at once.
'' Yes. '' I agree out loud. ''Spicy'' means hot I think to myself.
Miscommunication is universal.
The European Experience # 21
'' My best friend and I have the same voice teacherf, except my best friend has had five lessons in the past month and my voice teacher won't return my texts or calls. So if I go to this good bye dinner, I refuse to sit next to my voice teacher or I will leave.''
'' Oh '', is all I can muster for a reply.
Drama is universal.
'' Oh '', is all I can muster for a reply.
Drama is universal.
Monday, May 22, 2006
The European Experience # 19
He tells me I am too ''spicy''. He asks if he can give me his number. I go to grab a pen.
When I return he is gone...
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She writes ''Your universal theme is universal''(or something like that)
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I smile at him. I have no intentions of going home with him, talking to him, or even getting to know him on any level.
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Assholes are universal.
When I return he is gone...
----------------------------------------------------------------
She writes ''Your universal theme is universal''(or something like that)
----------------------------------------------------------------
I smile at him. I have no intentions of going home with him, talking to him, or even getting to know him on any level.
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Assholes are universal.
The European Experience # 18
I Am Just Someone Looking For Love.
I maintain we are all just people looking for love.
That's what I see, everywhere... People looking for love. Whether they know it or not.
Unlike some people in this world, I acknowledge and accept that it is love that I am looking for.
I Am Just Someone Looking For Love.
Love is Universal.
I maintain we are all just people looking for love.
That's what I see, everywhere... People looking for love. Whether they know it or not.
Unlike some people in this world, I acknowledge and accept that it is love that I am looking for.
I Am Just Someone Looking For Love.
Love is Universal.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
The European Experience # 16
It is called 'Red Velvet'. It is the most delicious cupcake I have ever had in my life.
(The bed is hard. He uses too much teeth and not enough lube. He looked better with his clothes on. I am tired and this is boring. and not pleasureable. He has a small penis. He has one of those awful 'sex faces'. I keep thinking 'When will this be over?' I wish I was eating another delicious cupcake.)
(Dis) satisfaction is universal.
(The bed is hard. He uses too much teeth and not enough lube. He looked better with his clothes on. I am tired and this is boring. and not pleasureable. He has a small penis. He has one of those awful 'sex faces'. I keep thinking 'When will this be over?' I wish I was eating another delicious cupcake.)
(Dis) satisfaction is universal.
The European Experience # 16
A sea of (mostly) gay men grooving and singing to 'What a Feeling!' (even if English isn't their first language, for most of them, grooving to pop music isn't their first language either)
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La Fille Mal Gardee is a beautiful comic Ballet.
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Dancing is universal.
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La Fille Mal Gardee is a beautiful comic Ballet.
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Dancing is universal.
The European Experience # 15
Who am I to say what is or what is not universal?
Here I am: I have travelled to a total of four different countries in my life.
Is that enough to make these grand statements?
All I know is that I won't stop searching...
Searching for answers to unknown questions is universal.
Here I am: I have travelled to a total of four different countries in my life.
Is that enough to make these grand statements?
All I know is that I won't stop searching...
Searching for answers to unknown questions is universal.
The European Experience # 14
I miss my friends. I miss the sun. I miss not feeling hungry. I miss Maurice.
Missing what is left behind is universal.
Missing what is left behind is universal.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
The European Experience # 13
'' You have everyone after you tonight'', he says to me before he gives me his phone number.
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I smile at him. He is beautiful. Shoulder length rock star hair. Pretty Blue Eyes. Broad shoulders hidden under his tee shirt. He smiles back.
Next time I see him he is making out with someone else.
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''Do you want to be a contestant of PORN IDOL?''
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'' I want to fuck you.''
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There are pornographic pictures in the free magazines here. Hot.
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Desire is universal.
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I smile at him. He is beautiful. Shoulder length rock star hair. Pretty Blue Eyes. Broad shoulders hidden under his tee shirt. He smiles back.
Next time I see him he is making out with someone else.
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''Do you want to be a contestant of PORN IDOL?''
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'' I want to fuck you.''
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There are pornographic pictures in the free magazines here. Hot.
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Desire is universal.
Friday, May 19, 2006
The European Experience # 12
I cry everytime I go to the theatre.
Even if I don't know what they're saying...
Not because the story strikes a cord in my heart, but for the sheer act of theatre.
Oh! The Theatrical Experience!
My love for the theatre is universal.
Even if I don't know what they're saying...
Not because the story strikes a cord in my heart, but for the sheer act of theatre.
Oh! The Theatrical Experience!
My love for the theatre is universal.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
The European Experience # 11
Dan is on a rant: '' That's the government for you...''
Politics is universal.
Politics is universal.
The European Experience # 10
'' You don't have to tear down monuments to make way for the future,'' Dan tells me.
The Future is universal.
The Future is universal.
The European Experience # 9
A Nation lives in the homes of a Nation. Not is hotels or hostels, or museums or monuments, or in cafes or clubs, but in the places where it's people live.
Home is universal.
Home is universal.
The European Experience # 8
This place, like every place, is not what it once was.
There is a common cry for a better time.
The Past is universal.
There is a common cry for a better time.
The Past is universal.
The European Experience # 7
Their names are Dan and Dushan. They were not born here but have been here for over eight years. Dan is from Romania and Dushan is from Yugoslavia. Dan is a nurse and Dushan is a stylist. I went to their place last night to watch the football match (Arsenal lost to Barcelona). Dan showed me around town today.
Dan and Dushan are my friends.
Friendship is universal.
Dan and Dushan are my friends.
Friendship is universal.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
The European Experience #6
His name is Austin. He is not from here, but from Krakow Poland. He has one of the best (if not the best) body of a man I have ever been with.
Sex is universal.
Be it where I am, where I came from, or apparently, even in Poland.
P.S. I found the number sign.
Sex is universal.
Be it where I am, where I came from, or apparently, even in Poland.
P.S. I found the number sign.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
The European Experience 5
The Opera singer sang in the public square.
Art is universal.
(even if it is an Italian aria).
Tonight I go to the theatre. I hope I can understand what they're saying.
(P.S. I can't find the number sign on this keyboard)
Art is universal.
(even if it is an Italian aria).
Tonight I go to the theatre. I hope I can understand what they're saying.
(P.S. I can't find the number sign on this keyboard)
Monday, May 15, 2006
The European Experience #4
"It's not to make you happier, it's just to make you... more," she tells me.
Faith will get me through.
Faith will get me through.
The European Experience #3
I am scared.
There is no reason for me to go.
Look at all I have right here.
I couldn't be happier?
Could I?
I guess thats the question...
There is no reason for me to go.
Look at all I have right here.
I couldn't be happier?
Could I?
I guess thats the question...
Sunday, May 14, 2006
The European Experience #2
I am going to disappear into the world and not owe it anything, but have the world owe me everything in return.
The European Experience #1
"Don't go to find yourself. BAH! Go to loose yourself," the woman said to me.
This is the only advice I will take with me to Europe.
This is the only advice I will take with me to Europe.
Love Defined (By Not Being Defined At All)
"I do."
These are the (in)famous words that formally seal two people into the contract of marriage. Considering these words out of the question that gives them context (Do you take this person to be your lawfully wedded husband/wife?), I believe I've found what I would consider the true nature of love.
Consider the (lengthy and involved) definition of "do":
do1
P Pronunciation Key (d
)
v. did, (d
d) done, (d
n) do·ing, does (dz)
v. tr.
v. intr.
v. aux.
Combined with the self identifier "I", the phrase "I do" can be read as "The person who I am will perform/execute/fullfill the requirments of/committ/produce/play the part or role of/ bring about/render/ bring forth/ attend to/ prepare for/ to have sex with/ etc... in order to express my love for you, my spouse."
In these terms, marriage, as the sanctity that is a formal representation of the love between two people, is defined by action, not language. The words "I do" exist as an opened ended indicator of the potential and required action that is integral to the contract of marriage. The words "I do" imply a committment to action in order to express love.
If we consider marriage as the ultimate act that two people perform to express their love for each other, Love is not defined by merely telling someone "I love you", but is truly expressed through the words "I do", and these words only have meaning in the fact that they imply action. Following this argument, we can conclude that love is ultimately about action, and not about words.
For me personally, such an examination has led me to the following:
Love as a word is meaningless. Love as an action means so very very much.
Love can not be defined by other words. Love can only be defined by action.
These are the (in)famous words that formally seal two people into the contract of marriage. Considering these words out of the question that gives them context (Do you take this person to be your lawfully wedded husband/wife?), I believe I've found what I would consider the true nature of love.
Consider the (lengthy and involved) definition of "do":
do1
P Pronunciation Key (d)v. did, (d
d) done, (dn) do·ing, does (dz)v. tr.
- To perform or execute: do one's assigned task; do a series of business deals.
- To fulfill the requirements of: did my duty at all times.
- To carry out; commit: a crime that had been done on purpose.
- To produce, especially by creative effort: do a play on Broadway.
- To play the part or role of in a creative production: did Elizabeth I in the film.
- To mimic: “doing the Southern voice, improvising it inventively as he goes along” (William H. Pritchard).
- To bring about; effect: Crying won't do any good now.
- To render; give: do equal justice to the opposing sides; do honor to one's family.
- To put forth; exert: Do the best you can.
- To attend to in such a way as to take care of or put in order: did the bedrooms before the guests arrived.
- To prepare for further use especially by washing: did the dishes.
- To set or style (the hair).
- To apply cosmetics to: did her face.
- To have as an occupation or profession: Have you decided what you will do after college?
- To work out by studying: do a homework assignment.
- Used as a substitute for an antecedent verb: He can play the piano, and I can do that, too.
- Informal.
- To travel (a specified distance): do a mile in four minutes.
- To make a tour of; visit: “ [He] did 15 countries of Western Europe in only a few days” (R.W. Apple, Jr.).
- To be sufficient in meeting the needs of; serve: This room will do us very nicely.
- Informal. To serve (a prison term): did time in jail; did five years for tax fraud.
- Slang. To cheat; swindle: do a relative out of an inheritance.
- Slang. To take (drugs) illegally: “If you do drugs you are going to be in continual trouble” (Jimmy Breslin).
- Slang. To kill; murder.
- Vulgar Slang. To have sex with; bring to orgasm.
v. intr.
- To behave or conduct oneself; act: Do as I say and you won't get into trouble.
- To get along; fare: students who do well at school.
- To carry on; manage: I could do without your interference.
- To make good use of something because of need: I could do with a hot bath.
- To serve a specified purpose: This coat will do for another season.
- To be proper or fitting: Such behavior just won't do.
- To take place; happen: What's doing in London this time of year?
- Used as a substitute for an antecedent verb: worked as hard as everyone else did.
- Used after another verb for emphasis: Run quickly, do!
v. aux.
- Used with the infinitive without to in questions, negative statements, and inverted phrases: Do you understand? I did not sleep well. Little did we know what was in store for us.
- Used as a means of emphasis: I do want to be sure.
Combined with the self identifier "I", the phrase "I do" can be read as "The person who I am will perform/execute/fullfill the requirments of/committ/produce/play the part or role of/ bring about/render/ bring forth/ attend to/ prepare for/ to have sex with/ etc... in order to express my love for you, my spouse."
In these terms, marriage, as the sanctity that is a formal representation of the love between two people, is defined by action, not language. The words "I do" exist as an opened ended indicator of the potential and required action that is integral to the contract of marriage. The words "I do" imply a committment to action in order to express love.
If we consider marriage as the ultimate act that two people perform to express their love for each other, Love is not defined by merely telling someone "I love you", but is truly expressed through the words "I do", and these words only have meaning in the fact that they imply action. Following this argument, we can conclude that love is ultimately about action, and not about words.
For me personally, such an examination has led me to the following:
Love as a word is meaningless. Love as an action means so very very much.
Love can not be defined by other words. Love can only be defined by action.
All Things Go. All Things Go.
The Journalist. The Philosopher. The Lover. The Lawyer
The men of my life have gone. They are part of the past now.
An Era Has Ended.
I fell in love again. All Things Go. All Things Go.
Time to Move On.
The men of my life have gone. They are part of the past now.
An Era Has Ended.
I fell in love again. All Things Go. All Things Go.
Time to Move On.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
The Lone Ranger
8 pm: Every Now and Then: The Helix Project Dance Retrospective
10 pm: Ms. Wilson's Birthday Party
12 am: Buddies in Bad Times Dance Party
1:30 am: Big Primpin'
Tonight I was the LONE RANGER. I traversed from event to event like the social butterfly I am all on my own. I had no one to keep track of. I had no one to coordinate with. I had no one I was attached to. The night was young and the night was mine and mine alone. FREEDOM!
I barely had an good time for the five hours I was out being my social self.
Yes there are benefits to being a LONE RANGER. But all those benefits really don't add up to much when you don't have someone around you can share the good times with.
This LONE RANGER is LONELY.
And my Freedom won't hold me as I fall asleep on Saturday night.
10 pm: Ms. Wilson's Birthday Party
12 am: Buddies in Bad Times Dance Party
1:30 am: Big Primpin'
Tonight I was the LONE RANGER. I traversed from event to event like the social butterfly I am all on my own. I had no one to keep track of. I had no one to coordinate with. I had no one I was attached to. The night was young and the night was mine and mine alone. FREEDOM!
I barely had an good time for the five hours I was out being my social self.
Yes there are benefits to being a LONE RANGER. But all those benefits really don't add up to much when you don't have someone around you can share the good times with.
This LONE RANGER is LONELY.
And my Freedom won't hold me as I fall asleep on Saturday night.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Looking Back Into A Blurry Mirror
Another school year ends, and for a student, the school year is the guiding temporal structure. So, with the school year ending, I look back on the past year to evaluate my time and experience.
There is one problem though...
As I consider my romantic/sex life over the past year, I can't seem to remember specific instances or even people. I have date many men and slept with even more this past year, more this year than I ever have before, but I can't seem to recall more than a quarter of my lover's names, faces, or even the experiences we share.
I am left wondering if these encounters had any meaning that impacted my life. If we as human beings remember the important and meaningful moments of our lives, does the fact that I seem to have forgotten most of the specifics of my romantic life over the past year mean that my collection of lovers and the experiences we shared do not have meaning?
I contend that our memories do record in the depths of our psyches the meaningful experiences of our lives. So therefore, I am forced to come to terms with my excessive romantic and sexual activity as ultimately unfulfilling, unsatisfying, and not meaningful events in my life.
So how do I proceed?
(Methinks this will be easier said than done...)
There is one problem though...
As I consider my romantic/sex life over the past year, I can't seem to remember specific instances or even people. I have date many men and slept with even more this past year, more this year than I ever have before, but I can't seem to recall more than a quarter of my lover's names, faces, or even the experiences we share.
I am left wondering if these encounters had any meaning that impacted my life. If we as human beings remember the important and meaningful moments of our lives, does the fact that I seem to have forgotten most of the specifics of my romantic life over the past year mean that my collection of lovers and the experiences we shared do not have meaning?
I contend that our memories do record in the depths of our psyches the meaningful experiences of our lives. So therefore, I am forced to come to terms with my excessive romantic and sexual activity as ultimately unfulfilling, unsatisfying, and not meaningful events in my life.
So how do I proceed?
Less sex. Less dating. Less men.
I won't settle for a mere body just to help me get off.
I will settle for nothing less than butterflies.
I will trust my gut.
I will aim for love and settle for nothing less.
I won't settle for a mere body just to help me get off.
I will settle for nothing less than butterflies.
I will trust my gut.
I will aim for love and settle for nothing less.
(Methinks this will be easier said than done...)
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Will Has No Grace (But he's had my room mate)
"I think that Will, from Will and Grace, is very attractive"
"Oh yeah. Did I tell you that I kissed him and he munched [Mary's] box? He was staying at the Windsor Arms Hotel and I demanded that we get room service."
True Story
My room mates have fooled around with Eric McCormack. I always thought that they were the closest thing to gay men women could ever get. Sleeping with Television's favorite gay man, Will Truman, brings them even closer to be Female Fags.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Choose Choice
I maintain that once you have the confidence to realize that you can get it when you want it, there are a hell of a lot of people who are willing to give it. If you reek of desperation when coming across an attractive mate at a club, at a bar, at a coffee shop, or on the subway, chances are slim that they will return you gaze and smile back. Of course, alcohol does facilitate initial contact, the touch of hands before they hold, that first "hello", or even the look and smile that gets the ball rolling, but alcohol is not necessary (or it shouldn't be - your confidence then is ultimately false). And you must realize that there is a pragmatism that influences picking up: there are always boyfriends or girl friends and the pressure of monogamy, or work to go to early the next morning, or playing the role of the designated driver, or friends (God Forbid!) that a far too loyal person is unwilling to ditch. If such travesties occurr in the process of picking up, take them at face value, and believe that if they weren't into you, they wouldn't have returned that look and smile or that "Hello" in the first place. It is true that desire is part of the human condition, everyone wants to get off and everyone can be the person to help someone out there to do that, but, at the same time, we live in a world of monogamy, careers, and other such institutions that require strict responsbility.
If you know what you want, then you go, and you find it and you get it.
The problem is how do you gain the confidence to not jump onto the first person who offers love and/or sex (which ever option it seems will do it for you). I maintain that if you acknowledge that you aren't into every person who is into you, how can you expect that hottie you are cruising to be always into you. Sometimes you just aren't the right type. You are someone's right type, just not necessarily the type of the person you wish wanted you back. So don't take it personally, because you probably break as many hearts as your heart gets broken. Once you believe that, you're golden.
So where does that leave me?
I have the confidence to know that I can get it when I want it, and lots of people have offered to give it, and some would really like to if they didn't have a boyfriend or work the next morning. For me personally, I have to learn to be satisfied with the look and the smile, and know that I am worthy of desire (I have enough proof anyway), instead of wasting my time with too many sexual episodes with guys I want only because it seems they want me back. I want to be wanted so bad, I love to love so bad, I desire desire so badly, I often am in situations that are ultimately unsatisfying. It is not that I sleep with ugly people, but there is a lot to be said for that intuitively chemistry that exists between two people who really hit it off - It that isn't there, it is a sure sign that I should move on and leave it at a look and a smile. Beggars can't be chooser, but now that I've stopped begging and everyone is will to give what they've got, I have to learn how to be more of a chooser.
If you know what you want, then you go, and you find it and you get it.
The problem is how do you gain the confidence to not jump onto the first person who offers love and/or sex (which ever option it seems will do it for you). I maintain that if you acknowledge that you aren't into every person who is into you, how can you expect that hottie you are cruising to be always into you. Sometimes you just aren't the right type. You are someone's right type, just not necessarily the type of the person you wish wanted you back. So don't take it personally, because you probably break as many hearts as your heart gets broken. Once you believe that, you're golden.
So where does that leave me?
I have the confidence to know that I can get it when I want it, and lots of people have offered to give it, and some would really like to if they didn't have a boyfriend or work the next morning. For me personally, I have to learn to be satisfied with the look and the smile, and know that I am worthy of desire (I have enough proof anyway), instead of wasting my time with too many sexual episodes with guys I want only because it seems they want me back. I want to be wanted so bad, I love to love so bad, I desire desire so badly, I often am in situations that are ultimately unsatisfying. It is not that I sleep with ugly people, but there is a lot to be said for that intuitively chemistry that exists between two people who really hit it off - It that isn't there, it is a sure sign that I should move on and leave it at a look and a smile. Beggars can't be chooser, but now that I've stopped begging and everyone is will to give what they've got, I have to learn how to be more of a chooser.
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