Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Friday, September 25, 2015

the veggie soup has chicken stock, donated pre dumpster so technically it's freegan. I almost eat it but I almost cry at the thought. I'd rather go hungry I decide. worse things have happened. do no harm or whatever. plus I've already had one meal today which is better than other days. why is food so fucking hard?? especially on this trip where food is a major theme, a center point of community. am I being dumb by sticking so hard to my vegetarianism? even GPaul the vegan eats piles of dumpster meat. am I just being stubborn? what products are more evil? I'm smoking newports for fucks sake. I'm already ruined. already I'm wondering if I can convince Lando to stop on the road for subway or Taco Bell or some such garbage because I'm clinging so hard to this one thing: I dont eat animals. I just can't do it. maybe this is absurd but it's been over seven years now and it may be the truest thing I've committed to. so I sit outside and smoke and think and feel hungry and wonder if this is a condition of my privilege.  yes, probably. and is it rude for me to abstain in this place, in this broken city with its food deserts, after these good people have housed me and helped me and even thanked me for just taping them?

but of course i can't. i munch on home fries and bits of tofu, and reagan gives us granola for the road, the ridiculous road of me and lando and a new friend named steph, and somehow it takes us 6 hrs to do a normally 3 hour drive. but of course we make it, despite it all, and acorn is now warm and familiar and weirdly enough people are happy to see me.

Monday, August 31, 2015

two nights dreamed of tall water.
the first, riding atop the tallest waves in train cars, saving the people and carrying the cats in boxes. gracie lou who close to my chest, while i call orders over the tumult.
and the second, on the tallest balcony, the tidal wave encroaching, worrying over the people and herding the cats into tubes. willikers the prominent tuxedo in a tunnel of black cats.
and that night, in the dark of the conscious world, the saloon deck of the ferry to manhattan, leaning over the railing, willing myself not to drop in.
and then the train with river wild, and finally seeing rex across broadway, in front of roma's pizza. we dance the distance until the lights change. our reunion on the streets and at the overcrowded dyke bar, cash only. but friday night and too many straight boys and overpriced weak whisky pushes us to the corner store, the tiny park, the street. rex doubts his inner queens compass and modern convenience leads us astray. we never do find the water, let alone the pier. what we find is a strangely deserted bright street with a rock. without protest, the rock lets us talk and sit and drink and piss and nearly fall asleep right on it, until rex gets us going, back to the subway and the walk through the garden apartments to the cluttered cozy jackson heights townhouse where we can whisky steelie sleep through the morning. except that rex has a bus to boston at dawn, so i oversleep alone, try to slip out quietly, but am thwarted by his mom, nourished with apple fritter, sweet talk, and decaf. the journey back to staten island takes two meandering hours, and the ferry is soothing this time.
ganas is a strange green maze with its own sidewalks, raised up from the street; is this the real city? there is a palpable tension between old and new, the steadfast 60s communards and the invigorated younger set, fresh for revolution. "it's time to turn, to revolve, it's always time," we say, as we huddle on our porches, sneak a smoke, scurry when we hear them coming.
and look, we do share the bounty! from the house pantry, jaclyn makes tunafish pizza with bacon grease white sauce, plus tomato cheese just for me. the days drift in the green heat; is this city real?
wednesday rolls around and i still don't make it up in time for the 730am planning meeting, especially not from the extra house at the bottom of the hill. i still can't handle time, i'm one step slow all day, and even run late to rex's show at the new york city bureau of human services queer division, and the building was even more swanky than the name. everyone is beautiful gayz and i'm so proud to see rex his cap his bow tie his perfect poems and py arrives right at the end, during the glitter rap dance party, the queer cafe unsure how not to shake. pyrite is a vision in the village, vegetarian and mostly sober, until we spot the stella. "it's the gay beer," we're told. we fold into a flock, a glistening smoking parade brigade, back to the dyke bar, cash only, whisky bourbon on special.
i'm sorry if i rambled your ear off, spun off too far, gave you too many smokes, spent all yr money on drinks, spit your powdered supplement on the ground, cried on your shoulder, hugged you too many times, kicked you for old times' sake. but we did laugh, and we remembered the ghosts, and we almost walked that secret path.
but it twisted and you left us underground in the sick yellow light, where we continued to follow that dolorous brick road through the tunnel, to the dive with the whisky and the filthy foggy back room. it's no wonder i can't remember what was said. but we make it our home, for now, and i could live here forever until rex persuades me to leave, he in his infinite wisdom, with his mind on new york time, and again quit my pointless flirting and i'll hold my brother's hand on the train to queens, and again i'll share your bed until morning, but this time i have a bus, and two ferrys, and ten trains to catch to make richmond tonight, where i'll hitch a ride to twin oaks with comrades, albeit strangers, friends who have never met.

Thursday, January 03, 2013

fragments for the new year

on the shortest day, i rose to greet the dawn, drove east to meet the sun. i had not planned it, but i rose in the pitch dark before morning and drove with nothing in the rearview but black. anything is possible when you're in motion. for the first time, i'm pulled over for speeding but escape with a warning. i'm not sure how to take this sign. which side of luck am i on?

on the day after the shortest day, i woke to the sound of a pig grinding her teeth and pawing at the gate. the world was supposed to have ended but we knew it wouldnt and we passed through unchanged (though we hoped that we and it were all better and new).

on the pizza place patio, i watch a white bristle hair terrier sidestep its owners, who try to corner it back into the fenced yard behind the house. i laugh at the show, their dance, and forget after the shouting stops. an hour later, i'm leaving little rock and in the center of the four lane 430 is a white terrier, dead.

on the day after the day after the shortest day, i have been home less than 24 hours and already, everything has settled exactly as it was. i'm falling into the rut where the house is and i see no way out.

on christmas eve, i'm crying in bed for hours, wondering why i bothered to make it this far. i've already stagnated and my greatest fear comes true. i lay heavy on the curses and make plans never to see my friends again. everything i've ever done is useless.

christmas is the usual pile of books and wrapping paper and everything you'd expect. chocolate coffee. stockings full of soap. fruit and cheese plate. the appropriate fir needle coating over almost everything. why do my cats prefer the tree's water? eventually i force myself out of the house for wine and friends and spin a yarn so long it nearly swallows me. this is the only night i will see them before they shove off for nashville, new york, japan. the small set of hours disappears in an instant and i'm shocked to find the outside world turning white, soft snow floating in the air. sometimes the earth will glitter and the bed will be warm and not too big for you and your cats.

on the day after christmas, i wake up puking. this seems unfair since i really didn't overdo it and played it safe with fruit, cheese, and only a little wine. they will always trip me: every time i find some good, it goes. any time i think i'm finding footing, it slips.

on the day after the day after christmas, it's time to go again. my mama and i trade off for the drive to her parents' in south georgia, and we don't even have to talk with the audio book playing.

these days are a pleasant stretch in the limbo of family. we busy ourselves with the business of being agreeable and intervening when the grandparents try to do anything beyond their chairs. we challenge the cousins in scores of smart phone games; we watch most of 3/8 of the harry potter films; we just barely drink to excess but generally we contain ourselves.

on new year's eve we discover there is no bonfire planned. the female cousins rally our forces to gather every scrap of torn wrapping paper and decently dry pine logs, and we feel proud of the growing burn pile till we get luke's truck stuck in a mud patch where grass becomes field. it's my fault for mentioning the time we ran into this tall grass unsuspecting, and sank from house slippers to pajamas. the fire is not the finest, but our effort is the thing, and i'm glad to drink cider topped with the ash of christmas present turning past. 

on the first day, we are in transit. i can't remember a new year that i didn't greet from the highway, rushing away from and towards the old and new, praying to every dead thing. 
on the first night, i come and curl around myself three times, receiving and giving back, giving back. 

on the day after the first day, i scour and purge, determined to make a temporary space comfortable for perhaps the first time ever. i shock myself by staying up all night here, not unusual but for the words and the recollection of hours lost typing. there is comfort and the dark is more than half done. 

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

break

after hours flailing on the screaming windy highway, the i-10 rest stop is eerily quiet. everyone stands beside their cars smoking, unspeaking. a sign outside the squat brown building warns, WATCH FOR SNAKES. another, LOOK TWICE FOR BIKES, depicts a four-eyed cartoon head, bodiless at the wheel. i barely pee anything; i'm thinking of the narrative of my life and whether i could make it as a any kind of artist, or anything at all. somehow i'm thinking of maine in august last year in lawly's tent where bowen courted and sported us both. how she kissed me with just lips, how his mouth found its way under my shirt, the hot bright orange tent heat, their red and yellow hair. how all i could think was: this must be something that people do. no one asked any questions.

now, a woman interrupts my careful handwashing: "what do they do when it's pouring?" i hadnt even noticed the open sky, blue with thin wisps of white clouds. texas winter is summer hot at 80 and rising. "Yeah!" i agree too loudly in this quiet place and all my jokes fail. in the mirror my face looks back worried, lonely, and pale except for the fierce red bumps covering my chin. at 25 i still look 13, hormones angry and unbalanced after recently quitting nine years of HBC. i have always hated mirrors and today is no different except that i've really fallen now, all dreams dashed down on the brown ceramic tiles in the open air rest stop, ready to be snake bait.

Tuesday, December 04, 2012

you never really tried

phew. finally finally finally sent the last email to TM. thank goodness i got that off my chest!

NOW. i am moving back to the south in a week and three days. all this must happen before then:
  • finish color correcting the movie
  • laundry
  • return library books
  • order new glasses
  • renew driver license
  • get car serviced
  • PACK UP EVERYTHING
  • become unaddicted to coffee and smokes
  • last chance photo copies
  • goodbye party
  • record new vocals for the chase song???
  • go camping???
  • cut my hair dammit
  • chill out.... hahaha

listening to: kate bush - the big sky


Sunday, November 18, 2012

gonna have my fun

i can't believe i've lived in this cloud for almost a year. i can't believe it's winter where you are. i can't believe i'm about to be completely free for the first time EVER with no plans and nothing. no more job, no school, and no movie to work on. i can't believe all i have to do to get there is three more weeks at the duck house and then 3000 miles back to the south. home. free.
honestly i have no clue what i'm gonna do with myself.... but i have some ideas.


anybody know anyone i can stay with? 
or anything cool to see along the way?
or some reason i shouldn't take this route?


listening to: the white stripes - going back to memphis

Friday, November 13, 2009

ready to explode

i slept all morning to, i guess, make up for the amount of sleep i haven't gotten over the last week. i wish i hadn't, though, because my service trip with my abroad class is tonight, and i'm afraid i'll be up all night, and then i won't want to wake up to garden.
speaking of my abroad class... i woke up to this email from my mom, who i had spoken with on the phone last night. she was planning to call somebody from international programs, but i suppose she couldn't find just one person and decided email was better. so she sends the following email addressed to the dean of students, the dean of work (one of my teachers), and two people in the international programs office... but she didn't use their individual emails and now i'm freaking out that a bunch of student workers are reading the following letter:

To all of you --- I wasn’t sure who to address and it has take longer than I like to find email addresses (does no one have individual e-mail?)

I have a number of concerns about my daughter’s upcoming study abroad class. I don’t want to pay for something that, frankly, seems poorly planned and lacking in academic rigor.
As of yesterday, there was no syllabus, and no full itinerary. The classes that are supposed to prepare the students for the trip are, in the opinion of my daughter, not helpful. I trust my daughter’s reasons for questioning why she should continue with a class this unpromising.

This brings me to my second concern. The plane tickets were bought the week of the first class. It was too late to withdraw when she discovered the class was not what she thought it would be. The class description was certainly enticing, and I’m sure Alanna imagined something more suited to her interests. But again, when the imagination became reality, it was too late. This is most unfair.

I really wanted my daughter to have a study abroad experience, even a very short one. I expected more from Warren Wilson programs because such a strong emphasis is placed on international studies. I really want her to have a good experience. Is there any way she could design an independent study to pursue in England for the time period? Perhaps Warren Wilson has a partner college somewhere that would provide housing. I do not want to lose the money we have paid, and I do not want Alanna to miss a trip to England that will be closer to the study we both believed was offered. I may be overly optimistic, but I believe we can find a way to make this a positive trip.

I usually try to let my daughters’ figure out the problems of college life on their own. However, this problem is too thorny to ignore. I will support Alanna in her decisions, but I wanted to make sure we covered every option.

I appreciate that you listen to our concerns, and I hope we can find a way through the thorns.
Respectfully,
[MY MOM]

after this message, how can i go on the group trip now, even if i wanted to? what a mess. someone please tell me how to feel about this.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

i am a werewolf

ahhh, another day.
soooo this weekend was the memphis trip, which we had been soooo looking forward to for so very long. i'm not sure if i'd call it anticlimactic.... it was definitely worth the trip. friday night was gonerfest where we (me, brandon, leroy, rachel, bonnie, ALICE, LAYLEE, etc) mostly sat in some bushes outside and drank malt liquor, i.e. SPARKS. this was the time of my downfall.... i've been sick for a while now and rather than going allll the way inside and waiting in line to blow my nose, i just used some leaves. naturally. i do this all the time. however, by the end of the night, i had little black marks on my face and arm, although i didnt notice them until saturday morning.
at any rate.... the bands were great, although, of course, Mr. Airplane Man blew everybody else out of the water. it was amazing!! brandon and i were basically the only dancers in the building, which was disappointing, but not at all shocking for the memphis hipster crowd. it's rather unfortunate how prudish we memphians can be... luckily i'm doing everything i can to break the mold. ho ho ho. after their set, i hung out with mfox and saki behind a newspaper until our eyeballs fell out. i was then dragged to the car because apparently rachel was passing out on the pavement and was really ready to go. i was still ready to run around, but apparently i was the only one. apparently i was the only one who thinks 2am is not that late. back at my house, my darling girls laylee and alice stayed with me until 4am, letting me rant and rave and rip my head off. what angels! i don't know what i would have done without them. so they left and i crawled into bed with my beautiful sister, who, a mere 3 hours later, opened her big, beautiful eyes and asked me, "why are you sad?" so of course i woke up. and you know, i cant generally go back to sleep after being awoken... so morgan and i made our rounds through the other rooms of sleeping kids and made sure we weren't alone in consciousness. perhaps we'll never be forgiven, but do you really think we'd care? ha! leroy and bonnie made a beautiful breakfast that was supposed to be hashbrowns, but ended up as mushy potatoes and veggies. it was still delicious, if you ask me. so we spent an unfortunate amount of time lounging around my house... not that i REALLY minded, but looking back, we probably should have caused some ruckus. although i got some great quality time with my kitty. we took naps in the early afternoon to combat our three/four/five-hour nights, and i helped morgan create the perfect pirate costume for a cowboys and indians ice cream social. she even had a sword! but the little hussy ran off with my bandana... grrr. i had just acquired that one, too. ah well, i suppose all things must pass. we eventually got out of that cave of a house, and wandered around cooper young for a few hours. traditional stops for records at goner, feast of eyes at house of mews, and deliciousness at young avenue deli... although since the neighborhood has been attracting more yuppies, they've raised their prices, and i don't like it one bit. the fries aren't as good these days either! it's almost not worth it but.... ohhhhh the cheesy sticks. yes yes yes. at this point we split up: the nola crew went off to fill a southaven fridge with warm beer, and the ALA girls headed downtown to create some mischief. i think i acquired about $100 worth of clothes, all soft and colorful and cottony. i'm pretty proud. then we all met back up again to go to theatreworks for Birth, a play which is trying to raise awareness about maternity care in the states. it was pretty great, and i'm so glad that we all got to go. especially the reduced prices for all seven of us! it is awesome to be in the our own voice family... theatreworks always feels like coming home.
after the play, we were supposed to hang out with lauren h, but she was nowhere to be found! sad the way that always seems to go... instead, we sat around on my kitchen floor and ate tomato soup and sunset pizza from camy's. by now it was almost 1am and the kids were starting to crash. brandon and i tried to rouse everyone for a late-night trip to peabody park, as is custom, but nobody was down. we walked alice and laylee out to the car, and by the time we made it back inside, everybody was.... indisposed. it was rather unfortunate. we convinced bonnie and leroy to give us a LITTLE shared bed time, but soon we were kicked out. it was weird to be kicked out of that whole side of the house... i don't think i've ever run across the predicament before. so brandon and i watched "return to oz" and looked up perversion on the internet. it was great times... as you can imagine.
the next morning, i woke up with a puffy, red face that mom swore was hives. leroy insisted that it was poison ivy, like whatever he had on his leg and arms. i used his zanfel medicine, but to no avail. i took some benadryl and passed out while morgan, leroy, and bonnie were cooking. everybody paraded in and out of my room like a tv show. i vaguely remember hugging rachel goodbye, morgan trying to coax me up with biscuit dough, etc. but mostly i remember my wonderful mama sitting with me, rubbing my back, and soothingly asking if i wanted to transfer colleges. it was certainly a weekend to be babied, and i gobbled it all up. unfortunately, now i'm back in new orleans, totally lonely and motherless again. i really do like to have someone taking care of me... my big memphis support group of friends is so perfect for that. even the reduced version that i had over the weekend was perfect. i can't figure out what's so different down here, but i just don't have the same sense of safety and love that i do when i'm in my hometown. i don't think new orleans is really that much scarier than memphis.... but i guess my neighborhood here is pretty bad. and my friends down here are all fucking nuts. i just want cuddles and hugs and someone that knows when i'm hurt and what the fuck i'm talking about. i need more women in my life. i need cat energy. i need a pile of pillows to pet on. i need tea parties and bubble baths and girls nights. this is a situation that i'm going to start working on asap. yeesh.

so my face is still all puffy and horrible. i went to the doctor before i realized that it was probably the nose-blowing leaves that did it... geeehhh. i have been taking medicine as if it was a bacterial infection, but i think i'll go back to the doctor on thursday to get checked out again. i've been sick for way too long!!! this is getting old!!! i need to be surrounded by less smoke, that will probably help my throat. geez.
tonight hilary is supposed to come over for a hair night with me and py! it should be great. as long as i can still manage to wake up for my 8:30 class, it's all good. we have pink and purple dye, and no regard for humanity dignity!
now i should go read "demian" for my short fiction class. i'm enjoying it so far and i can only expect that it will get better! plus there's a quiz tomorrow.. yipe.

Monday, July 16, 2001

so brittany and i MIGHT MIGHT MIGHT be going to new york and stay with my aunt phyllis for a week and oh my god it would be so much fun!!! im too anxious to explain all the things that i dont know about but well i really hope it works. and brittany found a flight for us to take and everything for $214 on northwest airlines. WAHH WE CANT WAIT AND I HAVE TO ASK MY MOM TOMORROW IN LIKE.. THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE SO THAT SHE DOESNT HAVE ANY CHOICE BUT TO SAY YES..... ;_; and its still not even definite that i could go alone but i would feel lots better with brit there of course.and tonight we went to davis-kidd and this author named nick hornby was there and we met up with the bakers -- kimberly and bill and zak -- just like last sunday except morgan's not here now because i sold her for a piece of cake in birmingham and zak just got back from france and he's grown out his hair and it looks really coolishnesses. and things of that sort. so then we went to chili's and everyone ate minus me. and they maybe thought i was anorexic but i had eaten a little before we left and.... things happened and those people are so much fun to hang out with. i was sad that morgan wasnt there just because theyre so fun and i wouldve been even more comfortable with morgan to stand behind. even though shes shorter. lol. zak plays the oboe and thats really funny because not a lot of people do. and he plays like 67043589023894 other things actually but oh well. i should go to bed because i hear like a garbage truck type thing outside and jerel is telling me to sleep and brit left and thank god nick left forever ago the poor thing. ok so im leaving. seriously. oh go check out jerel's blog because it might make him mad. ^^ oh yeah and go to laylee's page with its one beauteous post and then brittany's because hers is the longest. and shes the most uncool because shes not at blogspot. oh and nick doesnt have a pagie. and if youre feeling serious you can go to me and brit's poetry bloggie as well. right so im really leaving. night all!