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I said I was ready

I'm ready, already.
” *I wrote this in the bathroom because I like multi-tasking Sean. I am having a perfect moment, Moab/LA style. I have been drinking and getting lifted w/ my roommate- companyera de casa- on the terrace. I was lying on the bed there focusing on the blurry particles in my vision. The sky is blue and the sun is shining. It is Friday. I saw a bag floating in the air-being set free. Then amazingly enough I saw another. This was real not imagined. I pictured the second yelling ‘Thaaaaank Yoooouuuu” as it was liberated. Then I pictured a miniature you in the bag waving from above.” … “I scoured for this and Inzombia and  couldn’t score a copy of Inzombia to save my life. I even found a cassette copy on amazon.com but then, after I ordered it, the seller emailed me and said that he was actually selling a VHS of “The Mummy Returns.” 1. Note I wrote to Sean Mcguinness in early 2006 while in Buenos Aires. I never sent it. 2. Excerpt from a note sent from an ex along with a copy of Slant 6’s (out of print) Soda Pop * Rip Off LP. October 2007.

” *I wrote this in the bathroom because I like multi-tasking

Sean. I am having a perfect moment, Moab/LA style. I have been drinking and getting lifted w/ my roommate- companyera de casa- on the terrace. I was lying on the bed there focusing on the blurry particles in my vision. The sky is blue and the sun is shining. It is Friday. I saw a bag floating in the air-being set free. Then amazingly enough I saw another. This was real not imagined. I pictured the second yelling ‘Thaaaaank Yoooouuuu” as it was liberated. Then I pictured a miniature you in the bag waving from above.”

…

“I scoured for this and Inzombia and  couldn’t score a copy of Inzombia to save my life. I even found a cassette copy on amazon.com but then, after I ordered it, the seller emailed me and said that he was actually selling a VHS of “The Mummy Returns.”

1. Note I wrote to Sean Mcguinness in early 2006 while in Buenos Aires. I never sent it.

2. Excerpt from a note sent from an ex along with a copy of Slant 6’s (out of print) Soda Pop * Rip Off LP. October 2007.

dorata:

Nunca cesaremos de explorar
Y el final de todas nuestras exploraciones
Será llegar al sitio desde donde partimos
Y conocerlo por primera vez.


T.S. Eliot

2
“Ciao Zarmu” I have this short story rolling around in my head. Some parts are clearer, others are just being born, etc. When I went to Sardinia I had been in a moment (a seven week long moment) of crisis. Getting into a very scary van accident in the Czech Republic, grieving the death of a loved one, deciding on big changes, and other life things were feeling heavy to say the least. So, I just decided to do a thing I really wanted to do. Two things actually: live in Italy and work on a farm. I didn’t know what to expect. I imagined hard work, exhaustion, difficult tasks and alone time. The actual experience was completely different. Something so incredible it felt like I went to sleep and dreamed a beautiful dream without waking up for a month. Not only was I not really able to use the internet I also didn’t want to. It would’ve meant having to try and put to words what was happening, write to my friends and share what was going on. I didn’t want to share. Or didn’t know how. I still don’t really. I have the story I sell, the way I have spun it, the condensed version. But it’s not the same. Maybe I’ll get there someday. This graffiti served as bookends to my time there though. The full message says “Ciao, Zarmu. Sempre insieme a lottare contro questo mondo di merda (ma anche bello)” When I first saw it I wasn’t sure of the full meaning but could understand the general “the world is shit” sentiment. Something that appeals to my brand of cynical optimism. Or perhaps optimistic cynicism. I took a picture and kept the phrase in my head thinking about it often over the next weeks. What I didn’t think about was everything that had been upsetting me since the start of the year. I didn’t think about what it felt like to be convinced I was going to break my neck while being thrown around a rolling van, or the how awful it feels when people stop playing by fair and honest rules of communication, or what it is like to watch your mom lose a sister, or feel entirely unsure of what happens next. I was too busy to think about any of that. I was too busy meeting new people, swimming in the river, planting things and taking care of vegetables. I spent the mornings making and doing and creating and relaxing and the afternoons were for walking and socializing and cooking and enjoying. One day I went with two of my new friends and three beautiful dogs to collect wild asparagus. The sun was so bright. We stopped and chatted with the pastor and saw some of his goats. We walked through the paths and around the valley and I decided that nothing else mattered. Of course other things matter but I realized what a waste it had been to worry about things I had no control over. I spent my last day in Sardinia in Cagliari. I had to take a ferry from the port in Cagliari to Naples. My new friends spent the day with me, showing me around, drinking beers, laughing. We walked by the same graffiti and I pointed it out to one of my friends and he said that a friend of theirs had written it. That it was a message to Zarmu, another friend who had been killed in an accident. I cried a bit behind my sunglasses. “Ciao Zarmu, always together fighting against this shit world (but also beautiful)”

“Ciao Zarmu”

I have this short story rolling around in my head. Some parts are clearer, others are just being born, etc. When I went to Sardinia I had been in a moment (a seven week long moment) of crisis. Getting into a very scary van accident in the Czech Republic, grieving the death of a loved one, deciding on big changes, and other life things were feeling heavy to say the least.

So, I just decided to do a thing I really wanted to do. Two things actually: live in Italy and work on a farm. I didn’t know what to expect. I imagined hard work, exhaustion, difficult tasks and alone time. The actual experience was completely different. Something so incredible it felt like I went to sleep and dreamed a beautiful dream without waking up for a month. Not only was I not really able to use the internet I also didn’t want to. It would’ve meant having to try and put to words what was happening, write to my friends and share what was going on. I didn’t want to share. Or didn’t know how. I still don’t really. I have the story I sell, the way I have spun it, the condensed version. But it’s not the same. Maybe I’ll get there someday.

This graffiti served as bookends to my time there though. The full message says “Ciao, Zarmu. Sempre insieme a lottare contro questo mondo di merda (ma anche bello)”

When I first saw it I wasn’t sure of the full meaning but could understand the general “the world is shit” sentiment. Something that appeals to my brand of cynical optimism. Or perhaps optimistic cynicism. I took a picture and kept the phrase in my head thinking about it often over the next weeks.

What I didn’t think about was everything that had been upsetting me since the start of the year. I didn’t think about what it felt like to be convinced I was going to break my neck while being thrown around a rolling van, or the how awful it feels when people stop playing by fair and honest rules of communication, or what it is like to watch your mom lose a sister, or feel entirely unsure of what happens next.

I was too busy to think about any of that. I was too busy meeting new people, swimming in the river, planting things and taking care of vegetables. I spent the mornings making and doing and creating and relaxing and the afternoons were for walking and socializing and cooking and enjoying. One day I went with two of my new friends and three beautiful dogs to collect wild asparagus. The sun was so bright. We stopped and chatted with the pastor and saw some of his goats. We walked through the paths and around the valley and I decided that nothing else mattered. Of course other things matter but I realized what a waste it had been to worry about things I had no control over.

I spent my last day in Sardinia in Cagliari. I had to take a ferry from the port in Cagliari to Naples. My new friends spent the day with me, showing me around, drinking beers, laughing. We walked by the same graffiti and I pointed it out to one of my friends and he said that a friend of theirs had written it. That it was a message to Zarmu, another friend who had been killed in an accident. I cried a bit behind my sunglasses.

“Ciao Zarmu, always together fighting against this shit world (but also beautiful)”

3

Park Proposition

I just got the best wrong number text. It couldn’t have been more Barcelona if Barcelona itself had written to me.

*”Lokoooo soy esther que e kedao con el marc en abastos, tienes algo de porros pa vendermee o invitar a mi primoo? Conectate o llamame o algo y asi kedamos pa ir palli.” 

*Spanish people speak shitty Spanish/slang.

“‘Krazy’ it’s esther. I am meeting marc in abastos, do you have some weed to sell or give to me, man? Get online or call me or something to make plans to go over there.”

I walked across part of Gozo to visit this church in Gharb. I was lured to town by the folklore museum which boasted a child’s hearse. There was one street in town and it was under heavy construction. This church is juxtaposed with lots of dust and nothingness. The museum was sort of closed with a sign that says “call if door is closed and you would like to visit the museum.” Instead I ate a plate of ravioli and walked the 7 kilometers back to the fishing village I was staying in. I passed an aqueduct twice along my way. Lacking the language to describe it otherwise I have to say only the following “incredible engineering.”  Tomorrow I am moving to a “town” in Sardinia with a population of 153. An Italian friend told me that Sardinia used to be popular among kidnappers. Being very “savage” and undeveloped the mountains and forests provide good places to hide the kidnapped. More than anything this comment probably just speaks to my friend’s lack of understanding of appropriate conversation. It’s my last real day in “my” home in Barcelona. I’m not going to ruin it by thinking about it too much though. Instead I will drink these two cans of diet coke I bought (indulging my consumer self before 6 weeks of self imposed hippie exile and also curing? a hangover) and finally actually drag my personal effects to the post office to ship them home. As a reward I will probably drink a beer in bed and maybe even go for a “nice weather today” walk. 88% sure on the beer 45 % on the walk.

I walked across part of Gozo to visit this church in Gharb. I was lured to town by the folklore museum which boasted a child’s hearse. There was one street in town and it was under heavy construction. This church is juxtaposed with lots of dust and nothingness. The museum was sort of closed with a sign that says “call if door is closed and you would like to visit the museum.” Instead I ate a plate of ravioli and walked the 7 kilometers back to the fishing village I was staying in.

I passed an aqueduct twice along my way. Lacking the language to describe it otherwise I have to say only the following “incredible engineering.” 

Tomorrow I am moving to a “town” in Sardinia with a population of 153. An Italian friend told me that Sardinia used to be popular among kidnappers. Being very “savage” and undeveloped the mountains and forests provide good places to hide the kidnapped. More than anything this comment probably just speaks to my friend’s lack of understanding of appropriate conversation.

It’s my last real day in “my” home in Barcelona. I’m not going to ruin it by thinking about it too much though. Instead I will drink these two cans of diet coke I bought (indulging my consumer self before 6 weeks of self imposed hippie exile and also curing? a hangover) and finally actually drag my personal effects to the post office to ship them home. As a reward I will probably drink a beer in bed and maybe even go for a “nice weather today” walk. 88% sure on the beer 45 % on the walk.

1
Martha, will you show her where we keep the…eh, euphemism?

Martha, will you show her where we keep the…eh, euphemism?

Lost and found

Nothing matters. Packed all of my dumb stuff in two boxes. I’m going to sweat and grunt and struggle to carry my dumb stuff to the post office but mostly I just want to own one outfit, a pair of shoes and my out of print Slant 6 record. But 3 months ago I lost something, a French rock on a chain and today, somehow, it came back to me. Sometimes things work out. I hope?

1

I recently gave up self-deprecation. It’s working out so far, I think. I did however, pick up “drinking in bed” and “doritos” because I feel the need to have a vice or two in my pocket at all times.

I put a few significant pieces of my life over the past 5 years out on the curb last night. Weird feeling. Fortunately someone picked up my “bag of treasures” so hopefully that person is now enjoying my 50’s bright blue hair dryer, a bunch of blank cdrs, a pile of dog stickers and some cut up nature books at this very moment.

1
Last night a pizza saved my life. AZ Conni, Dresden, Germany. November 2011.

Last night a pizza saved my life. AZ Conni, Dresden, Germany. November 2011.

9
Walk forever until you are too tired to walk any more. Then drink a Sparks and keep walking.

Walk forever until you are too tired to walk any more. Then drink a Sparks and keep walking.

2