Thursday, July 21, 2005

A taste for travel

I've become giddy reading about all these wonderful cities worldwide. Secretly, there are plans in the works to put together a European tour of some sort, hit up the major cities for a first taste of the continent. A British passport sure comes in handy.

There would be nothing more liberating than to backpack the continent, witnessing a continent so steeped in history, meshing with other travelers equally curious about those parts and creating ephemeral connections. Can't get to grounded.

The inner traveler wants to branch out and let the world teach him what it has to learn. Get lost on another continent, fall ill to diseases of foreign tongues, let loose. Writing a travel guide just seems dishonest when the only places I've been are two major cities, and with my parents at that. It may be lonely sure, but loneliness isn't necessarily a bad thing. It lets you reflect, discover, explore.

There is a world out there and I am just waiting to see what it can offer me.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Turn up the stress

Turn it up, until my head starts beating, until I feel like bleeding. You've gone and buried me, lil help? I'm not die-ing I assure you, a little stress from work can go a long way. I soon lose myself under the weight, the curses continue, the ache grows. Just a little spark ignites the fire, the crisps the landscape. And, without intention, you've lost yourself and the green path you walked thus far.

Those who tred lightly, who take care to caress the Earth with their feet, will, in the end, be redeemed. Those who listen to the beat of their heart and allow its dance to take over their body will shine. Those who breathe the air in delicate intakes will sing full songs to the wild. Those who smile without thinking will draw my attention. And I will smile back.

They came in droves. To sweat. To grind their bodies to the floor. To lose a little bit of themselves. They heard of this promised land, a land of cream and sweets, of milk and honey. And so they sought a connection to the Eternal. They came in droves, ripping their clothes and throwing dust on their heads in despair, in repentance. For they had fallen away and worshipped another. Idolized their own selves, lusted for divine attention. Only to fall away into the dark. And then they went in droves.

Friday, July 15, 2005

So it begins

And I am left standing here in the clearing, in the silence. Without music, I start hearing new sounds. Rustling in the trees, the breathing of leaves. The heavy sighs of the earth underfoot start to unstable my ground. It is in silence that I start to lose my self-confidence. When I am totally alone with the world, and its unheard rhythm.

Then people start to arrive, glances of desire blushed on their faces. As if ambushed, I am left not knowing what to do, how to react. I start scanning their faces, artificially covered, disguised. Who they are I am not quite sure, but I'll pierce their eyes, get through where it is most vulnerable. Let them know they are indeed wanted, sought after, if only to know who they truly are.

And thus the dance begins, a two person tango. Mirrored footsteps, locked eyes. The world beyond connected irises doesn't exist in this moment, focus is intent. I need to know what lies beyond that facade of carefully laid artistry. You need to stop, and want to lock into me. When you stop putting up that front you will be able to see further into me and sweat off the paint. And we walk around each other, closening. I can see the dripping paint, the single line of sweat dripping down your face. And all I can do is smile because you've started to fly towards the light, fogetting what is rational and what is life.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Western Europe

Today I write you as a snooty capitalist bourgeois from Western Europe. You see, it is pod decorating day in the office and our work area is usually Western and Eastern Europe. But, today, things are quite different. We've erected a Berlin wall and the East-West divide is up once more. The classy arrogant west has been ruling the office while the east has been reduced to messy communism. Quite fun... oh yeah, where has that work gotten to?

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


It seems like I may always be imminently homeless. The search continues to find bridge housing after I finish my time at the coop and before I head back home. At the beginning of the summer, the same situation happened (kicked out of housing before other housing began) yet I happily found a place with a co-worker. Thus, the quest begins again.

The thing is, I only really need a place to crash for a week. No ads for housing give you a week to rent. I can just imagine the upturned noses and wrinkled faces that may look at me in disbelief. I've looked on Craig's list (some people swear by this list that offers scores on housing, and, well, questionable scores in the bedroom as well) and at the local housing office. Nada. I will rely on friends and roommates for the time being. We shall see.

And, lo and behold, Stefan has a home. Once again a coworker offered me a place to stay. Yay.

But this whole housing thing got me thinking. We are just perpetually homeless, moving all the time- accompanied by nothing but our music, plugged in. It's kinda weird if you look at things a certain way.

We're all but androids, taking public transportation, white earbuds plugged in, talking on cellphones, rushing. Soon enough we'll stop thinking and observing. Narrow tunnels. Dead eyes.

I'll shut up tomorrow and just write

Tuesday, July 12, 2005


Lunch hour. I can never fill an hour. Thus, I have created a blog. That isn't really the reason why I created this thing- writing has lacked substance lately, so a 'diary' helps. Sorry, blog- that just sounds like some sort of glutinous mass.
Anyways, I think I'm a cross between a poet and a storyteller. I was in a fiction class last semester and struggled past 5 pages; I am more inspired by crisp distinct words than by complex plots (but don't get me wrong, I do admire people who can twist those elaborate things together). Since I have been working full time, the creative juices have lacked. Going home for a week excited ideas once again, but, now back in Cambridge, I've returned to my rut.
Last year it was easy, I was in a class at the Lawrenceville School (a secluded prep school in NJ near Princeton) and I sat down every day to write, and pour out thoughts, feelings, weird ideas and mental wanderings. Great poetry and images came of that stuff, I gave birth to new beings, and discovered myself in my children. It was only when my fingers raced along the key board, too fast for my mind to keep up, that I was able to let things out. Lewd, dark secrets, philosophical thoughts, wild images of purple monkeys (recurring).
This is good, I can feel things starting to bubble.

Today was one of those beautiful summer days that I've never experienced anywhere else but in Cambridge,MA; sunny and hot with a chilling breeze. Ideal. It was nice to walk home from work in such good weather. I find it quite amazing how I can just pick up and leave work behind when 5pm rolls around. It's as if 9 to 5 is some sort of solid block of time that doesn't secrete any liquid whatsoever, doesn't contaminate the rest of my hours.
The Internet has been down for 4 days here at the Coop (I am writing from the communal computer). This lapse in superhighway access has left me with more time for thinking, reading and TV. It truly is amazing how much we rely on electronics: lights, some appliances, TV, computer and on and on. Power failures will be devastating in the future- children reduced to absolute boredom, hydrogen cars sputtered to a halt, and people staring at each other speechless, blinking. I sent a letter to computer services asking them to fix things already, people are getting frustrated.
I've been going to the gym 5 days a week starting this summer and have seen some results. While I feel healthier and a bit more toned, my muscles still lack that bulk I see so often on other guys. You know, the quasi-heman toned body boy type. The fit-ness seems to come with a certain attitude too... a vain confidence that you've got it all. I've always had this theory that certain people have certain body structures. So, no matter how much they work out, their shape will always be a certain way. So I think I'll always be a bit of a slim guy, no ideal inverted triangle for this one. It's much the way how I'll always be 'cute' and not 'hot'... but I'm cool with that. It's nice to stay in shape but also important to stay within the realm of Stefan (aka you).
That's what it comes down to a lot of the time, just being you, confident and strong. Hoky I know. I think today will be hoky-day. But hell cliches are fine by me. They weren't always. Fall in that pit call love and cliches start to make sense, some sort of parallel universe. Even long distance relationships can survive for a little while (1.5months)- all you need is a few moments where two collide. Hear that, that's the orchestral music for my monologue, it's getting sappy. Truly, love is not describable when it happens- there are these moments that you can tell to other (5 hours felt like 5 minutes, he went swimming in the Delaware) that just won't make sense, but they'll make you smile and warm you in a way you haven't known before. There's also that feeling that your heart just expanded to the size of your chest and you've been launched into the air, balancing on a cloud. It's a nice feeling. Distance tears that apart after too long, you forget what your lover looks like, how he reacts, his body language etc. etc. I'm putting things on hold on the romantic level... emotional lay-away. I know things could ignite again.

There's a bucket full of my life
Drink up laddy,