***Monday,
JUNE 1, 1998, TODAY'S MY BIRTHDAY***
I'm pooped...
I will write more after I sleep.
Tuesday,
June 2, 1998
I just
had a dream about mom. She was still alive, and she was so so
sick, and her essence was in a little tube. And she was sick
and she was sick and I cried and cried. This went on for months.
People filed past her as she slipped away. She was like she
was when she was actually dying and the, she sprang to life
in a short burst. I was having the hardest time, I was the one
that laid in the driveway when Anne went to the store and told
Pop to fuck off when he tried to calm me down. I was the one
that hadn't had a bath for days. I was the one that was just
immobilized, unable to take care of anything. I felt so helpless
and just so vulnerable.
I finally
took a shower, put on the sweater that I wore to her funeral
and was going to show everyone I was better, so I went into
her room and she was sitting up, telling us over what she wanted
each of us to have. She was talking to us, and I remember her
telling a story, one that she told me as a child... I was sitting
next to her in the car and I looked over at her and she was
talking. You know how you do that sometimes, when someone tells
you a story, and you remember it you start to remember where
it is they told you, or that's what I do, and how it felt when
she first told me. I remembered the smell of her coffee, and
her makeup, because she would always cake it on.
This has
been the best birthday present. This dream. I woke up when she
was hugging us all, before her essence ran out, a calmness washed
over me that everything was going to be OK. That I was OK, and
mom is still here in a way.
People
say you can feel the dead, or their presence, and I have never
felt that. But last night was the first night I slept at Lesli
and Doug's house, so I wonder if being so close to the place
where she died has some sort of impact. I suppose I will know
tonight.
I'm glad
it wasn't a dream about how we were treating Thomas. She was
just glad to be there, to give us love again, and that's all
that mattered to her. Part of me would like to believe this
is just me doing all this, but there were things that happened
in this dream that were not typically me, in the least little
bit, so...
I am physically
exhausted. Just totally wiped out and I need to finish moving.
We got the worst of it out yesterday, now there is just a bunch
of little shit laying around. What a fucking mess. I was going
to go to work today... I suppose I will for a few hours so I
am not so overwhelmed. When I am in my house alone, I can't
do anything, I feel so paralyzed.
I feel
so bad... Lesli made me dinner last night, I will go eat it
in a second and I didn't get here until 1 am. She understands,
thank God, but I know how annoying it is.
I will
try to write more at work, but they have me busy.
I leave
for Europe on the 18th.
Wednesday,
June 3, 1998
I laid
on the floor of my empty house and just listened to music. I
feel so strange, so exhausted and re-juvenated at the same time.
Just a few more little things left to go. Dishes, lamps... my
stereo.
I didn't
feel so disjointed yesterday as I thought I would. I slept well,
and I like my room at Lesli and Doug's, but it's a total mess
and when I am done here, then I have to pick through the stuff
I brought to their place and put it in storage. Oh god...
I can't
really say much of anything. I wrote an entry for my birthday,
but it's on my computer at home, so I will probably down load
it tonight or the next day.
I sat
and listened to music, and then I decided I wanted to go out
in the yard and do a... I forgot what they are called. It's
when you stand on your hands and flip over. I could never do
that when I was a kid without someone spotting me. I did a couple
of cartwheels. Then I got daring and did a couple of handstands.
But the
memory of falling over and hitting the ground when I was a kid
was too strong for me to attempt this feat alone. I wanted Jenna
to help me a few days ago, but I don't think I will be talking
to her too much. She told me that she would help me move and
I hate when people tell me they are going to do something and
then don't. That's almost worse then lying.
Sam said
that brain surgery people are the most un-reliable people, that
you can't depend on them... well, I make it a point to be responsible.
Even if I am late, I will still show up, and I try never to
tell someone that I will do something and not follow through
(Jan, I will make it to Cincinnati, I promise).
I view
that as insincerity and I hate when people are insincere with
me. I was like that with Zac, but he was far too demanding of
my time and attention. I can give both without constraints as
long as I have some time for myself and the other person isn't
so demanding.
So, fuck
Jenna and Priscilla. They were both suppose to help me move,
they said they would and although Jenna did help some, she said
she would help yesterday and she didn't. She didn't come to
my graduation after building it up over and over and I wasn't
mad, but now, I just could care less, and I hate saying that.
She's a wonderful person, I love her to death, but if I can't
rely on her, then she's just a wonderful person and not much
of a friend.
Maybe
that has been my problem, relying on people and trusting them
as I trust myself. I know how much I can depend on myself, since
I have always had to, so it's really hard for me to ask anyone
for any kind of help, and when I do, I expect help when I ask
for it, so there is my dilemma within myself.
Should
I be hard on people when I am suppose to rely on them? I know
people will always let you down, and that's why I rarely ask
for help, but should I just let these things go?
This is
why Melissa and my relationship has lasted so long, and Andy's
as well. They were there for me when I needed them and vice
versa, but they demand so little of my time so when I am able
to give it to them, I am able to give more of myself so our
relationships have been able to endure, especially the one with
Melissa.
Plus I
am selfish with her. I know she, and I suppose she knows with
me, that we will never find in other people what we find in
each other, so we accept each other fully and that way, the
relationship is richer.
I suppose
I strive to find this in all the relationships I have, and although
I give it my best shot, I find other people rarely do. I also
can't expect to find the intensity in others that I find in
myself, so there is that as well.
I have
a new address, but I am not to familiar with it yet, so I am
not switching over yet. Plus I will have to move my web-page
over to this new location as well, and that makes me a wee bit
nervous.
OK...
Gotta work.
Thursday,
June 4, 1998
I am finally
as moved as I am going to get. Andy was a sweetheart and got
some of the stuff I accidentally left behind. Ron put a combination
lock on the door, I know he was probably pissed, but I just
can't give a fuck. Although today, I have a rather rancid migraine.
I took a half a Xanax as well.
Last night
was the first night I actually got to be with my family. I am
so amazed and glad, you just have no idea. I feel so good about
the relationship between Lesli and myself. It's really quite
amazing.
Monday,
JUNE 5, 1998
Running
an errand for my grandfather, my way to the storage area before
I come here is covered with tears and an utter sense of loss.
It's hard for me to be at Lesli and Doug's... I feel their apprehension
of me being there, but that was compounded by Doug getting a
cat scan of his liver today.
I got
lost and went the wrong way on Symerna Road. I drove about a
mile, and I desperately needed gas, so I stopped at this little
place. I am amazed at the technology that exists today when
it comes to gas pumps, and it was more evident to me as I pumped
my gas today.
I walked
into the little grocery store and was just in awe. This was
what Crestwood used to be like. The grocery store was something
out of the fifties, the way the food was organized, it was dark,
the floor was old, there were butchers in the back with blood
all over their coats. I contemplated buying cookies, but wanted
to vomit from crying so hard. It hit me last night around 8
pm, and I felt so uneasy.
I showed
up here and was able to talk to Granny for a little while, but
I was just exhausted from moving and driving, so I slept. I
should go... I will give a decent entry soon, I promise.
Monday,
June 8, 1998
I am sitting
in Cyber Smith with my friend, Hadley. I feel so comfortable
here in Boston... staying with her family is like stepping into
a nice warm jacuzzi. I can't believe how comfortable I feel,
it's the first time any one's parents have just accepted me
off the bat and it's the most amazing sensation.
Had and
I are a lot alike, in that we see things and when I talk to
her and vice versa, we can look at each other and say we understand
and I think it's the first time someone has said that to me
that I actually believe them.
I think
I have had an revelation. It's not as frightening to meet a
girl off the Internet as it is a guy. Some guy can be creepy,
and then you are uncomfortable, but I think it's easier with
girls, well, since I am a girl.
So, I
am not sure when I can update this thing again, probably not
until I leave. OK, Had said I could do it probably on Wednesday.
Tomorrow
we are going to go see Pulp and I am excited.
Lots has
happened, so I have a lot to write about.
************************************************************
Ed~May
23, 2000
When we
went to see Pulp, Hadley got us off on the wrong exit.
It was awful because I am a very slow walker and it seems everyone
walks really fast compared to me. We had to walk to the club
where Pulp was playing and since my ankle still acts
up and I was out of shape and I can't over exert myself and
we walked over a mile to get there I ended up barfing when we
got to the club. Needless to say I didn't enjoy the concert
as much as I would have liked to.
I wasn't
too happy about that especially since I told Hadley I was going
to catch a cab and she started to make fun of me.
After
this she pretty much ignored me and I hung out with Sam for
most of the time I was in Boston. She acted like she would hang
out with me but then she started working and I couldn't understand
and still don't understand why someone would invite you up to
see them and then turn around and shit all over you.
Granted
I wasn't the greatest houseguest in the world, I was still fucked
up about mom dying and Hadley and her mother together made me
miss my mom even more. I still tried to remain friendly and
after this Hadley didn't speak to me again. She sees fairies
and spirits and she and her mother claim to be psychic but I
didn't feel it. It was after this trip that I realized that
not all psychics are created equal.
I still
admire Hadley's
photography and her father is an amazing artist but I certainly
don't care for the way I was treated and how she dealt with
me afterwords. Ah... to each their own. She helped me a lot
through one of the hardest times of my life and for that I will
always be grateful.
Thursday,
June 11, 1998
Mom would
have been 53 today. I have hardly any time to update my journal
now, but I did want to get on here today and say this. I can't
wait to update all my stuff, but... you know how life moves.
I hate
being dependent on anybody for anything and I don't have e-mail
access and I don't have my computer so I can at least keep stuff
in my journal. I have been doing it the old fashioned way, and
it just goes to show that although I am not dependent on people
very often, I am extremely dependent on technology.
Sunday,
June 14, 1998
Today
Granny Turns 75.
I am going
to go see her. I wanted to give her a balloon ride for her birthday,
but it just didn't happen. Besides... I am spending enough money
as it is.
So...
I will start with last Saturday.
Last Saturday
Mikey got married. It was amazing, and I got a flat tire before
I left Granny's house after returning their truck and picking
my car up. I rushed and still missed her wedding. That was frustrating.
Everyone
brought so many gifts... but after moving, I just didn't have
the heart to give her shit, so I took a million photos, ok,
maybe more like 100 and gave her the rolls.
I have
to explain something that I am not sure that anybody understands.
There is no way in hell I would give up my negatives under any
circumstances. Most photographers are like that. I don't know
anyone who can just give that kind of shit up without absolutely
trusting their company that is processing them correctly, etc.
I gave Mikey all but one roll of film and that's because it
had other photos on it.
So...
I think her dad easily spent 50 grand on her wedding. I was
beside myself. I pulled into her house and there was valet parking.
Then I walked around where we spent so many summer days swimming
and talking outside and there was this huge tent there and the
family was welcoming and thanking people for coming.
I was
just beside myself. There was a shrimp bar, and then dinner
was served, an open bar.
Mom is
buried approximately 2 miles from Mikey's house, so you can
imagine what I was thinking about all fucking night. I was overwhelmed.
Even though it was Mikey's wedding...
How can
I begin to explain Mikey? She is Mikey. She's an artist that
grew up in a home that wasn't very conducive to her creativity...
Her parents were what I imagine my grandparents were like, the
gentried class through and through. To prove their love, they
spend money. I hope this doesn't piss you off, Mike, me saying
this in my journal, but... that goes into another rant.
Anyways,
an artist needs more then that to grow, and she has found it
in her husband. I am happy for them.
So dinner
was magnificient... steak and salmon, with veggies and something
else. The salad was just exquisite and the company was great.
Mike sat me next to an Irish chick and I fell in love with her.
She was just fire and venom and I admire those qualities in
a woman. Plus, she got me away from an explosive topic of conversation
when I was ignited.
I took
pictures of the dance that was being played by a live band and
that ended the rolls of film I had. I then became overwhelmed
because as long as I felt useful or that I had something to
do, then I was able to lull myself into comfort. However, when
I was finished, I couldn't deal with it any longer and I had
to leave.
I took
a piece of wedding cake, drove down the road, got out of my
car and placed the wedding cake on top of her grave. I told
her how beautiful it was through tears and I could almost hear
the band playing from where I was. I laid on top of her grave
and cried like I haven't cried in weeks. All of the frustration
of leaving for Boston the next day, the wedding, the move, graduation,
and mom being dead just overwhelmed me so I laid in the dewy
grass across where I imagined her lap to be.
And just
as quickly as I arrived, I rose and went back to Lesli's (which
is further down the road) and was just wiped out.
Andy came
by to take me to the airport.
This past
week has been such a blur. I have never felt so comfortable
in a place as I did at Haddy's, and I pretty much bonded with
all the members of the Langosy family.
Pop because
he was an artist, mom because she understand health problems,
Zoe, god, I can't even describe the mystic of Zoe. Kindred spirits
would be an accurate description. We share attitude about life
in ways that Haddy and I don't, which is strange considering
how much I get along with Haddy. Just different levels, I suppose.
The only
difficult thing about being there was being dependent in a way.
It's a strange feeling that I haven't experienced in so long...
Sunday
was awesome, because I was a new toy. Someone that you could
play with and I felt so special as I am sure all new things
should.
Monday
was great. I felt like everything was magical and special, until
I walked into town (45 min walk for a slow Ky. girl) and actually
set foot on to Harvard's campus. When that happened, it creeped
me out. All the people surrounding me and their basic insecurities
that don't change even though it was Harvard.
I stopped
and spoke with a security guard and asked him about crime and
such and he was like there are only a few rapes and stuff "but
those occur off campus." I was like, whatever.
He sat
there and told me how as long as you go to Harvard, you can
do anything. I told him as long as you have the initivie and
drive, you can do anything. "But Harvard opens more doors" and
I just wanted to vomit. It's getting to the point where people
are so apathetic about school that it just doesn't matter any
longer. I think, at least with my generation, we feel like it
doesn't fucking matter because all you do is rack up loans.
Well, this is my feeling, anyway.
And pretension.
I don't deal well with pretension and that is such a crock of
shit. I'm a fucking Clay, and once upon a time, not too long
ago, that used to mean something. Who gives a fuck now? What
good has it done me besides given me a sense of history? Oh,
I am just not going to go any further with that thinking...
So I met
Haddy for lunch and we ate at Brugger's Bagels (there is no
longer a Brugger's here in louisville, and I am sad) and I had
a lock sandwich. Then I checked my e-mail from a cafe which
was rushed and hurried and I didn't like not having the time
to update... but sacrifices have to happen sometimes.
We went
to the garment district and I walked my ass off. I was so tired
when we got home, but it was a good tired, and I don't remember
anything terribly eventful happening that evening except for
talking with Zoe. or maybe that was Sunday.
Tuesday...
ahhh... Tuesday...
I sat
on the toilet and puked. I kept telling Had that I needed to
take a taxi or something, but she didn't listen and we were
with all her friends.
"Haddy,
how much further?"
"Just
a block and a half."
Haddy's
blocks well, they aren't mine. The are more like three of mine.
I mildly complained and it takes a lot for me to complain about
anything, but if I know I am pushing my body too hard, then
I complain just a little louder, barely. She didn't realize
I was complaining, so by the time we arrived at the Paradise
and I was puking, she was not happy. I some how snuck in before
them and they didn't notice so they lost me while I puked on
the toilet.
I told
her later "I tried to tell you I am not like you, and it's not
because I am lazy, it's because..." I fucking hate using anything
for an excuse but I know that if I have the choice between feeling
like going out to have fun verses say, exercising, I will have
fun. I am not the most fit person, but I can function normally
and in extreme cases such as this one, when I over exert myself,
I pay the price by oh... vomiting.
I push
myself all the time when I am at home, running like a chicken
with it's head cut off, but I know what my limitations are,
so I am careful not to get myself in such situations. Haddy
felt just awful, and after I was done and it was over I was
able to enjoy what was to come.
Jarvis
Cocker is very thin and I just remember lots of Magenta light
illuminating his emaciated figure as he danced and serenaded
me. It was so amazing, and I know if I was a member of the band,
I wouldn't have done an encore because I think the audience
was as active as a lazy cunt. There was little enthusiasm in
the crowd, and for such a small place and for Boston to be a
little more culturally active then Kenfuckme, I was, to say
the least, astounded at how dead the crowd was, considering
PULP only played 3 American cities.
As I felt
the deep vibrations filling my heart, my cunt, I was crazy with
myself as he sung:
"you
could tell you dad he could stuff it all Yeah!
sing along with the common people
and they might just get you through"
Anyways,
I jumped and shook as if he wrote the song especially for me.
I love that song almost more then any and when I am particularly
sad, I sing this song to myself to remind myself that I am not
so common.
Wednesday,
I think I met Sam. I just have no recollection of Wednesday
except sitting around talking with Pop. He's the most amazing
painter I have seen. His ispiration is Titan...
Thursday,
I hung out with Sam all day. We went to a Mexican and Thai place
and we talked and talked, and I took a nap at her place and
she didn't get upset with me because she has had brain surgery
too. It was weird how we knew each other. I enjoyed her company
more then I imagined because she represents a sacred part of
myself only someone that has brain surgery can appreciate.
We both
hope to accomplish many things with our lives.
Friday...
I was suppose to go eat with Tanya's father, but I lost mis-placed
his number and didn't have ready access to e-mail so I could
obtain it. I feel a little guilty because I have seen photos
of him and he seems to be such a kind man, but I am sure that
I will go back to Boston, so I don't feel bad.
Sam took
me to the North shore that morning and we ate lunch next to
the ocean. It was nice, seeing the baby sea gulls with their
brown feathers and how they hovered in the air.
We went
to Sam's parent's house and then to her grandma's house and
I felt so special to see her work because she was a ceramicist.
Sam even told me I could take a piece of her work, but I just
didn't have the heart to take something that wasn't perfect...
so I took a cracked pot that spoke to me. I picked up several
pieces that spoke to me but it wasn't until I picked up the
piece that is sitting in my purse now that I felt comfortable.
I went
back home and took a little nap and we laid around and watched
movies.
I was
going to go into town and check my e-mail to get Tanya's dad's
number but it was flooded when we got into town so I was only
able to get my grandmother a gift and then spin in the rain
as Haddy videoed me (I will explain this one later).
We were
trying to avoid all the flooded areas of Boston on our way home
and I was just exhausted when we finished, and drenched so I
took a nap, Beth made dinner, Liz, Zoe, and Haddy went into
town and bought some milk and then we watched Legend
with the family all around us. Sam came by late, and we said
good bye and I miss her already.
I woke
up at 4 and took a taxi to the airport. I didn't have a car,
and I wish I did because then I could have done more and not
have been so dependent... or felt so dependent.
I could
have moved about freely, I know this, but I started to feel
like "why bother putting forth the effort?"
In retrospect,
it seems like this time was a blur, that I didn't really do
a whole hell of a lot, but I did so fucking much.
I really
love Boston, it's definitely European in it's feel and what
you can do on a cultural level. I didn't get to the museums,
but I slept under some of the greatest works of art by one of
the greatest painters of this century, and nothing could take
that feeling away.
I suppose
most of what I did was feel and that is why I am just literally
exhausted at this moment... and I have to drive to Danville,
see Granny, pay my ticket tomorrow, I would like to go horseback
riding...
If you
want a post card from Europe, you better send me your e-mail
while I still have access...
Monday,
June 15, 1998
I feel
so violated. While I was gone, Lesli opened almost all my mail,
and it wasn't like I was out of the country. I guess it wouldn't
bother me so much but there was a check from the fuckers at
Capital One and they were giving me back an overpayment and
they fucked up, yet again. So this means I have to ask Lesli
to sign on the check since I don't see my mom crawling out of
her grave to do so.
I am tired
and sad. Doug's grandfather died yesterday and I didn't get
to see my grandmother on her birthday. I feel like a big piece
of shit because whenever I over extend myself, it's usually
concerning my grandparents so...
I just
don't want to deal with this shit anymore. I am so sick of being
here. I talked with my mom's best friend today, and she is all
up Thomas's ass. I could just die. I don't know why I should
have suspected less. What the fuck ever.
I fucking
can't count the days fast enough. Thursday at 3 I will be heading
to Atlanta and then on to Amsterdam. I fucking can't wait.
I don't
know what the summer holds for me, but it's got to be better
then what I am feeling today. I can't wait to get to Danville.
I don't think I will come back until Wednesday or late Tuesday.
I just
can't figure out why she found it necessary to open my plane
tickets and stuff. I hate this dependence more then anything.
I need my own place with my own stuff and my own life.
I was
so upset yesterday I went and cried on Melissa's shoulder. It
was such a relief to be with her. The older I get, the more
I value her friendship. I need to go before I explode.
Tuesday,
June 16, 1998
I looked
down at his lips and they were so... dead. They looked like
two earthworms out in the sun put together to make lips. You
couldn't even see the opening. I had no feeling for this man,
not really. He wasn't mine, and I just couldn't cry, but I made
his wife laugh.
To live
all your life with a mate, over 50 years, and to wake up and
have him gone... When I was sitting there with Granny, I could
feel more for her as if it were her in a way, I just can't feel
death anymore.
The man
was Doug's, my brother-in-law, grandfather. I didn't know him,
there were no treasured memories for me to share or weep over.
I care for Doug and my nephews, and it meant something to Doug's
mother and grandmother that I was there, so, that's really all
that matters.
He was
87. That is almost unimaginable to me.
I picked
up Nate and shook him around and he giggled. I let him crawl
up my legs and flip over at my mom's visitation, so I didn't
think it would be such a big deal, but I forget that people
don't like to laugh at such events, they would rather be sad
thinking of the memories of the dead then concentrate on the
laughter of the living.
So many
thoughts... that will have to wait for another time. Maybe tonight
when I get home.
I couldn't
stand not talking with Jenna any longer. She is such a part
of me so I called her from Granny and Pop's last night. I told
her how she couldn't tell me she was going to do something and
not do it again. I can't deal with inconsistencies, and I will
be dammed if I do with my friends. She realized I caught her
in a lie and then she just apologized instead of making it worse.
Hopefully, that will never happen again.
One big
revelation I made while I was in Danville last Saturday (with
the help of Granny) was that I never could figure out why dad
let me live with them when I was 14. I always thought it was
so they could make me be like my mom, or what he thought the
could just mold me into her. Then Granny said in her sweet old
lady voice, "He didn't count on you being half of him."
And boy
was she right. I fight that Clay part of me, that fundamentally
evil part that is such a cunt. I don't ever want to hurt anybody,
but if I go to hurt you, it will smart for many years to come
because not only do I have the insight to see how everything
is around me, being psychic allows me to see your fears and
cut into a vein of pain you never knew existed.
I have
only showed one person how fundamentally evil I can be, and
he is notorious for being evil himself. Usually, when he is
at odds with someone, he will make sure he hurts them in some
fashion to let them remember him. He did not even try
it on me because he knew I would take the dagger out of my back
and stab him in the heart as I stared into his eyes.
That bitch
is awake right now. She is pissed off because of this trust
thing that has occurred. She has been thinking of all the problems
that I have been having and looking all around at ways to attack
Lesli. Part of me wants to unleash her and just let her hurt
Lesli and make her understand the ways she has been hurting
me. She has tried to make me dependent upon her, and you see,
that just isn't going to work... I could go on and on about
other little things Lesli does, like when I do actually ask
her for something, she acts so put upon that I would rather
not ask. She says little things to insight guilt in me and those
methods are out dated since I am not a girl any longer. And
what she doesn't understand is that if I try to make her feel
guilty, it will linger because I use the truth as a weapon,
not her truth, and not mine.. I use the real truth, and people
don't like to see that.
Plus I
think she is jealous of me and the life I lead. Well, she chose
to have a family and she made the decisions she did in life
and she is content with living in mediocracy and I am not. I
push myself hard and strive for the best and I expect that out
of myself, therefore, I am not a mediocre type of gal.
Fuck it.
I will just smile and stick it out. There are only 2 more days
left...
Wednesday,
June 17, 1998
So many
things to do...
circuit
city-camera (then what am I going to do with it?)
buy jeans for Liuda
Buy new bathing suit unless my green suitcase is here somewhere
Send myself stuff to Russia (so I don't have to carry it through
Europe)
Try and get another thing of Birth Control Pills (if I don't
take them, then I get really bad headaches)
I think I am going to take my computer anyway... but it's still
not fixed totally yet
And what,
pray tell, (you may be asking yourself) did you do today? Why,
I sat in the library and got about 20 resources for my papers
combined.
I went
to Melissa's last night and stayed and then went to Indigo
to meet Jenna. We put some stuff in storage, then we went to
my mom's grave, came back here, went to pick up the rolls of
film I left for Andy to develop (which he couldn't do), and
then dropped them off at Winn Dixie and went back to Jenna's,
slept for an hour, her boyfriend, George, woke me up so I could
meet "the best clarinet player in the world" (and did he speak
a lick of English? And do I know Greek, sorry pal, but I need
more then the "language of love") and came back to Jenna's to
sleep on the couch. She didn't want me to sleep with her, which
I found weird.
I sleep
with most of my friends. I slept with Zack, I have slept with
Melissa... I just didn't see why she made a big deal out of
me being there and then wanting me to be in the same room with
her, but not in her bed. Whatever, I was just so tired. But
that didn't really matter since George spent the night.
Woke up
at 9, took a shower, went to school, talked with the girls at
the bank for a while and then went to the library. Didn't get
anything accomplished before it was time for me to leave and
meet Elizabeth for lunch. She gave me the greatest book for
my belated birthday. She is the professor that taught me what
it means to think on so many levels. Everyone can do it, it
just takes a lot of practice and reading. Then you just gradually
slip into what people are implying in what they write or create,
photographs and paintings can do the same thing. It's a deeper
level of awareness, where everything is symbolic and we start
to realize how we all relate to one another.
The people
that have no depth in their character, that is who I am weary
of, although I am starting to know and believe it is harder
to deal with someone like me because for one thing, they may
not fall as deeply into the different levels of being as I do
and some people formulate ideas from what they are told or what
another person like myself has written. There really shouldn't
be an instruction manual... wait, that's not true, there should
be and there are several, but then you start trouncing on spirituality
and all the levels that this kind of awareness implies.
For the
most part, I have met very few people that talk about this kind
of thing. And although I surround myself with people of varying
awareness, it's really hard to get that connection so you know
you belong to one another. I have that with three or four people,
and I am grateful that I do because when I talk about such things,
then I am not looked at as though I am a freak.
Here's
an example of how the American public tunes these kinds of things
out. They sit and watch TV and let other people's ideas influence
and change who they are according to societal standards. Most
people never break out of that pattern of what is being done
to them, and those people are blank people, like my old room
mate Dave. He drove me crazy because I could not even have a
deeper conversation with him beyond a superficial level, and
that drove me nuts.
So, when
you don't read and don't think for yourself then you are nothing
but tools for people like me that know how to manipulate you
to do whatever it is we want. Corporate America is based on
this principal. As long as you are working under a corporation,
you will not be encouraged to grow and change and evolve into
a better human being.
Thinking
of all this shit has just exhausted me. Among all the other
common everyday events that have led up to the experience that
is my life at this current moment. When I read remarkable things,
like Jane Eyre, then I feel how she was trying to take
you in through the different levels of awareness. Part of it
is being a sensitive person, part of it is understanding who
you are, and then one of the most important parts of it is understanding
how much your five senses affect everything you do in life.
It's all
really quite remarkable but in the same token, it's really hard
to get rid of basic societal prejudices and ignorant beliefs.
I have had my fair share of struggling against a brick wall,
even the ones I have created.
When I
talk about how much I hate this language and how I feel it is
so limiting, these levels of awareness are what I am talking
about. There is no way I can fully articulate what it is to,
well, we will use fucking as an example. When you share that
part of yourself with someone, you are in a way, allowing them
to see what your essence is and that's why it's hard for me
to find someone because I want him to meet me on these levels
so we can feed each other's... intellect and spirit. To fuck
someone that isn't on the same levels as you are is really quite
exasperating.
I have
to stop this. Sometimes, I think I am nuts for thinking this
way and it has only been recently that I have been able to talk
about it because this is not the norm. If people were aware
like I am aware, then life would be different for everyone because
you would realize what it means to have such control over your
own life and the events that take place, and you would like
yourself for who you were instead of trying to seek societal
approval and values.
It's not
an easy road to follow, figuring this stuff out, it rather hurts
because that means you have to change all the values you were
indoctrinated with into an open consciousness, and then it's
easy to change.
I used
to go mad from thinking this way, that my perceptions and intuitions
were wrong but the older I get and the more experience I have,
the more I understand that those perceptions and intuitions
are reinforced by what I read from other people and see in their
work.
And if
that totally confused you, it was a yummy sunny day here in
the Bluegrass state. I am glad I won't be here tomorrow.
Sunday,
June 21, 1998
HIGH!
from Amsterdam.
I love
this place. I think I could live here. The people are so cool
and it's so lovely here. I'm having a great time and I will
go into details about it later, or then again, maybe I will
keep it personal. I will think about it and let you know.
All I
have to say for today is that I am really glad Holland won against
South Korea last night.
Tuesday,
June 23, 1998
Figures
that once you find your way around a city, it's time to go.
This past
week has been just a whirlwind. I met one of my Australian pen
pals here, Keir, and after a shaky start, I think we are getting
along rather well now. We stayed at some of his friend's house
one night, Malcolm and Rachel, and that was amazing, plus it
was in Utrect so that was nice getting out of Amsterdam.
His parents
were here on their boat, and that has been a pleasant experience.
His step mother is just amazing. He's pretty amazing too. He
lived in Indonesia and he is a pilot So... he is staring over
my shoulder now so it's his turn to use the computer. When I
get a chance... my birthday and now... but I haven't taken notes.
Oh well...
5 Great
things about Amsterdam, without being obvious
- European
beer
- Foreign
Tounges
- Clean,
clean, clean, except for the pissoirs
- Beautiful
People
- Atmosphere
Wednesday,
June 24, 1998
So...
I am sitting here alone. I can't wait to see Leticia, but I
am sad to be leaving Keir because he is rather fun to be around.
It so funny how even though we both use English, he uses different...
structures in his manner of speech. But then again, I don't
always use slang so...
I am getting
that old feeling of who I am again, after being disoriented
for what seems like forever. I think I could live in this city,
that's how much I like it.
So how
does one pack up one's bags and leave the country?
My grandparents
would be pissed, but when I am here, I don't really feel that
way. I think that's why my aunt moved here, so she wouldn't
have to worry about her parents having control over her. Plus
America is rather an oppressive culture to live in and be a
member of.
I feel
like I have been here a month. I am familiar with my placement
in the city and that is nice, I like that a lot. I like so many
things about this city.
We went
and watched a live sex show last night, it was mechanical and
after watching it twice, I was disappointed at how it was choreographed.
I think that spontaneity adds spice and it was a disappointment.
Oh well, maybe we will go to another show and see if it's just
as bad.
I love
techno. It gets your heart rate moving fast and... it's just
so techno. I can't figure out why I like it better.
And in
case you are wondering, I have been to 3 museums, so I am not
being a total wank-off. I fucking love Rembrandt. And Van Gogh
is my personal favorite. But Rembrandt... I see why he is the
one great painter of all time (according to my mom).
OK...
I have to go bathe and stuff.
Thursday,
June 25, 1998
Or is
today Friday? I can't tell.
I have
barely been in Europe a week and I am already so far removed
from my life back home. I feel like my time here has been so
rich and full, and I suppose that's what it will be like where
ever I go.
I talked
with Melissa last night and everything is hunky dory back home.
I suppose
I have been keeping myself occupied so much that I don't really
think about what is waiting for me when I get home.
When I
left, I had to have my brother sign over a check to me and he
was a real prick and threw a temper tantrum and only half signed
it and I was like "What the fuck ever," Laughed at him and then
called him an asshole. The bullshit he puts me through is just
awful.
So, I
haven't thought too terribly much about mom, and I suppose that
is a good thing. I have talked about her with Keir, but that's
been about it. I wanted to call her when I first got here, and
that was difficult because I said it out loud to him and then
I was like, but I can't call her.
Oh well,
it's not like anyone is honestly thinking about their mothers
in such a decadent place.
I am restless...
I need to do post cards and then go to the airport and buy either
a train or plane ticket to Madrid. Leticia is waiting for me
and I am excited about seeing her.
Keir took
off this morning with his parents on their boat and he's going
to try to make it over to Turkey. I don't know if I would have
had as much fun if he wasn't here.
Last night
he wanted not to eat in a restaurant so we bought some cheese,
bread, wine and beer and he had pickled herring (which made
me want to barf) but I did try it. We sat on a bench in a not
so touristy part of town and just watched the boats and people
and cars go by. We talked a lot about everything and nothing.
He's interesting
even though he professes to be lazy and other things, but we
got a lot of things accomplished and saw a bunch of things together,
so I really don't think he's lazy, or maybe I wouldn't let him
be.
I was
feeling goofy last night and I make this one face where I crossed
my eyes and show buck teeth and he always laughed when I did
that.
I know
I will miss him, because he made me laugh too, but that's because
he's a goofy boy. No, he was a gentleman and I was pleasantly
surprised for the most part. It was weird sitting and the river
and talking to his dad in their home. I liked that, that was
cool. I wish I had the patience to live like that, but I need
space. I wish I could just be rid of my worldly constraints,
but as someone told me "you have them from the time you are
born until the day you die..." so, there's that.
I have
to go eat something and fill out post cards before I leave.
So, I hope you are having a good summer.
Friday,
June 26, 1998
I am sitting
here in Madrid. It is so fucking hot that I could die. I jumped
on a plane last night and it was all good, except naturally
I had a lot of problems with my flight. I was relieved too,
because they changed gates on us and that kind of sucked. I
was suppose to be here around 10, but didn't make it until midnight.
So, I
sat with Leticia last night and we talked for hours. It's strange
seeing her in her natural environment because she seems a little
bit different, I suppose she is more pre-occupied so... She
is still fun-loving Leticia, I suppose I am a little sad that
she can't spend a lot of time with me this weekend. I figured
if I came here on a weekend, then she could, but it's not going
to happen because of her schedule. Oh well. I suppose I will
do something I do very well and that is entertain myself.
Leticia
doesn't have a phone. Her apartment kicks severe ass. I just
hate this weather.
I had
octopus for lunch, it was rather tasty. Leticia and a co-worker
came to pick me up and drove me around. It is so crowded, just
unbelievable to me. I mean, it was crowded in Amsterdam, but
people up there were just basically fucking around. Here, you
don't see that many tourists, or I suppose I haven't since I
am staying with Leticia.
Sunday,
June 28, 1998
If I never
left Leticia's apartment, I would be happy. It's open and airy
and the perfect size. I now believe that she got quite a deal
on this place for living in the center of Madrid.
I have
just been here all day, sleeping and in a lackadaisical kind
of trance that the heat has put me in. I now remember the reasons
I have for hating the summer heat so much. I suppose I am really
a Northerner at heart because I just can't bear this heat.
I made
some yummy bow-tie pasta with lemon, un-sweetened mango yogurt
and tomatoes. It reminds me of pasta I had about a year ago
when I was sitting in Yaroslavl with Jan. Jan was my room mate
in Vermont, and the only good thing about me being in Vermont
was that I met some of the most incredible people, Jan bing
one of them. She is back home in the states after a self imposed
exile of living in Russia. It's a love/hate type of relationship.
Speaking
of relationships... I suppose that you need to treat all things
as you would a person, be that the spirit world or a city. If
you show just as much respect to a city as it shows to you then
I suppose it's a bit easier to deal with. And maybe if people
respected people as they do cities, then maybe we wouldn't have
some of the problems we do with one another. I mean, you don't
go into New York and say, "I don't like the Empire State building
here... I think it would be much nicer over there..." do you?
Well then
I can't figure out why it's so easy for someone else to tell
you problems you have with yourself when we all have imperfections.
I will take my weight for example. Leticia sat and talked with
me as I was bathing and asked me if I had ever been on a diet.
Well, that's kind of like asking the pope if he is catholic.
Anyway, it kind of hurt my feelings because that is my problem,
not hers and my weight doesn't harm her in any way, shape, or
form, does it? It's as if everything about me is OK except my
weight and I think people that are concerned with such issues
are petty and shallow. But it's OK for them to be this way because
they usually don't think of how it affects other people. Maybe
some people like packing it on, maybe some people actually enjoy
eating or maybe it's just that person's body and that is all
there is to it. There is no standard of what people should look
like, no matter how hard society tries to make us believe that.
Well,
that's one of my rants that I happen to feel quite strongly
about. I am sick of starving myself to please other people and
I think if I were so much thinner that I would just be pleasing
other people so it's easier for them to look at me or something.
That doesn't mean I am any less feminine.
And further
on to relationships, I can not even begin to think of my dad
actually threatening me to have some kind of relationship again.
Part of me is like "go fuck yourself, I haven't talked to you
for almost 8 years now and I kind of like it that way." and
the other part wants to run into his arms and scream "OH DADDY!!!!"
I don't know what to think. I know I can't really have a relationship
with him that doesn't require him to work. I am not going to
make it that easy on him. He hasn't even had anyone close to
him die yet. I can't wait until it happens either because I
will get a perverse thrill out of watching him suffer.
Maybe
I should not expect anything from him and just accept whatever
it is he has to give, but I am not quite sure I have the patience
to walk him through who I am. Then I start thinking that it
takes a long time to foster any relationship and that father-daughter
thing is suppose to be like all the father-daughters that I
have encountered and I just don't see that happening. I can't
imagine me running into his arms and be delighted to be near
him. I don't know. I think I will just watch and be a bit reserved
about what I think and how I feel about the whole thing. I wish
I could be like Jenna, or Leticia who have rich daddies too
that have provided for them all their lives and they think the
world of them in return, but it's much too late to have that
sort of thing.
There
is something else that I really fucking hate and that is when
I tell someone my mom died that knew she was sick and they are
like "Well, you knew it was going to happen." As if with these
magic words, everything would be O.K. I think the next time
I hear that from someone who's mother is still alive or someone
that doesn't know what it feels like I will turn it around on
them and say "Well, your mom is about that age, how would you
feel if she died right now?"
I know
that people mean for it not to be so bad, and maybe them saying
that is a way to get away from not saying anything but I just
can't fucking stand it.
So...
this is what I have been thinking about lately.
I threw
up the first day I was here. I can't tell if it was from the
heat or from the octopus I ate. I think it was a combination
of ridding myself of toxic things. Leticia woke me up Saturday
and was like "what are you going to do today?" I was just going
to fuck around and do nothing, but her boyfriend was here and
I know she wanted to be alone with him. They are a beautiful
couple.
So, I
went to the Prado Saturday morning and was just so overwhelmed.
I think part of me needed today to recover from all the events
of yesterday. I had studied Velasquez, Rubens, Goya, and Bosch
this semester, but nothing prepared me to be bombarded with
all these masterpieces at once. One of the main reasons I came
here was to see The Garden of Earthly Delights and naturally,
it's being restored. When I found out, I wanted to sit on the
floor and kick and scream, but when I walked further into the
Prado it was like "Well, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore."
I still
can't get over everything I saw. I think I am going to have
to come back just to enjoy it. That's one thing I hate about
America, our buildings and things are so sterile. You walk down
the city of Louisville and instead of being inspired to any
great heights I am discouraged. I feel as I walk down the streets
of these European countries that I should reach out and touch
the cool marble beneath my fingers, I find myself looking hard
at old brick building to see what pollution and weathering has
done to them and how fascinating they all are.
And it
makes me a little mad because I am not sure many people even
appreciate what it is that they have. I suppose that will always
bother me on some level no matter what, even if I myself exhibit
that behavior at times.
It was
quite spiritual for me and I was so fucking annoyed at all the
chatter going on around me. Stupid cunts on vacation with a
group and their little boyfriends and they weren't respecting
what these art works were saying to them. I wanted to smack
some of them (Americans, naturally) and tell them why this piece
of work so fucking amazing. But, I went deeper into the Prado's
bowels to find the less popular works of art, but masterpieces
still the same.
So, I
am sure I will come back to the Prado again and again because
it is the one museum I have totally fallen in love with. I could
sit and stare at every color and line of almost every piece
in there.
Then,
I called Anne when I was done and that's when she told me, among
other things, "Lesli got a card from dad saying he was thinking
of her, and he has one for you too." I started to cry. I didn't
want to, but I did. After all these years of hoping for something
that never seemed like it was going to happen...
So, I
walked to the other museum to meet Leticia and her friend, Agatha,
and I didn't know what Agatha looked like, I asked her for the
time, which I thought was ironic, and then when Leticia wasn't
there by 6:15, I went in by myself and looked at the work of
Sally Mann and then when I was done there, she showed up. So
we went and looked at them again and then went to see the Nan
Golden's. I am convinced that my work is good now. I think I
will work harder at producing better work when I get home in
order to be exhibited in such a manner.
I probably
should have applied to Cal Arts for photography, because
I am almost positive I would have gotten in, but... I think
I want to do film (that hesitancy was probably apparent in my
application and that's the main reason I believe I didn't get
in). So... as we were sitting in the connecting cafe, that's
when the Gay Pride parade went by. Leticia videoed while
I shot and I am amazed at how much I love doing photo journalism.
I thought you were either one or the other, but I suppose once
you are a photographer... or let me re-phrase this. It's like
learning how to drive a car, if you learn on an automatic (photo
journalism), then that's all you will know but if you learn
on a stick (fine-arts), you can drive just about anything. But
then I could just be full of shit, but this is my opinion.
So then
Agatha and I walked around while Leticia and Oscar took his
stuff back here because he was suppose to go South, but his
friend didn't go, so he had to leave on a bus this morning.
We walked and walked and walked through the city into Plaza
Mayor and into a little plaza where we met Leticia and Oscar.
Then we ate at a restaurant, I had an omelet and wanted to barf
when they brought out more octopus. I tried Hagas, Spanish style
and that was pretty nasty because I don't like pork.
So then
we went and saw the Lady from Shanghai which was good.
Orson Wells... I have seen him in better.
Then we
took a taxi and came home and I have been here ever since.
Now that
the sun has gone down, I dared to venture out. I am amazed at
how busy this copy it center is at such an hour. IT would never
be like this in the states. Although... I like the energy of
Madrid. It is very nice.
