dreaming again.

a rich man funded my trip. it was important i do this, important to him. he stood to make a good deal of money. perhaps a great deal of closure. perhaps his severe, black-haired wife had something to do with it. she had the look of someone rich in everything she did. rich and intelligent, not a common combination. she watched over the whole operation jealously and from behind painted eyes. i could taste my desperation. it was like heaving and continuing a conversation. every morning. i was beginning to feel as though i'd already died, with something small and alive inside, fighting.

we built the trap. we built the chariot. it was a dull, colorless process, in a dead world.

did i mention i'm vietnamese?

we prowled our trap, outside the volcano. me in my floating chariot and they from their rich apartments. they ate duck with mahogany chopsticks, the lava a glittering lamp in the distance. i sweated on colorless pumice. it cut my feet and in the darkness the blood made no stain.

i found the shark, i saw it snaking through the waters. angry. in a small pen, and going mad. it made no noise, and i found i'd underestimated it's size. i couldn't size it up properly in the steam. the sweat dripped into my eyes, i threw the harpoon, i missed. i threw the harpoon, it sunk into the tough shark flesh. i retreated into the furthest recesses of my chariot and lost consciousness.

they were a lot more careful with me the second time. this time, i ate with the man in their apartment. i'd eaten in such fine apartments before, but he wouldn't know that. it was comforting and i was grateful that he didn't talk much. with my third eye, i watched the apartment when i left and entered the elevator. the man left the room, entered another, and re-emerged with his wife's head. well, something that looked like it, well-painted to look just like her. a container. the top was rubber and he reached inside, pulled out a handful of hair. her head was attached, the real one this time. it had been dead for some time. he pulled it up to his face and kissed it.

the chariot sped behind the shark, this place more colorless than the last. i saw his rows of yellow teeth and beady eyes. i crawled as far into the recesses of the chariot as i could. a plastic crib slid into view. i screamed.

angry man in car

children in dirt

dead head

keys

school

drinking champagne

fireplace

it was terrifying, believe me.

on the move...

it's that packing time. it's that registration time. it's that cleaning time, the carefully tucking things together and sitting on suitcases time. how much stuff does one really need to stay in another country for five months? it's a long time. so much could happen in five months...

i know you're all sitting on the edges of your seats, wondering exactly which classes i've signed up for. well, i'll spread the love and spill the beans:

global environmental change
dublin, ireland: a brief literary history (lady gregory, yeats, synge, o'casey, beckett and joyce)
adv. modern dance

i haven't signed up for the dance class yet... gotta wait until i'm in the country first. the literature class should be very cool, since it's in dublin and we get to go to theater performances and the like... it's also not going to happen for a few months. i hate waiting.

and now the big decision: what books do i bring along? oh dear oh dear oh dear! life of pi? theory of relativity? tropic of cancer? man's search for meaning? searching for god knows what? atonement?

oh boy. i've shelves-full of books asking to be read and re-read. movies to be watched. how will i be able to boil it all down? does anyone have any packing tips? i'm pretty good at packing clothes effeciently, but suggestions are always welcome...

music: return to tunguska (alan parsons project)

camera found! It's a Polaroid Land Camera Supercolor 1000, and it's absolutely beautiful. although, i'm having to take antonio's word for it, as it was his first communion present and it hasn't yet changed hands. antonio is ten ninjas. now all i need is to find out what i can do for film... hmmm. ebay? i hope jacob likes the way it looks. he's going to be looking at it a lot, i'm afraid.

so guess what i'm up to? thaaat's right. red wine and C++, but the kinks haven't come on yet. nope, we're still in the j's. that means joy division. then we have to get through K.C. and the sunshine band.

yeah, so jake jake jake. oh, and jake? jake! yep, jake. you've got it. what's his name? jake. which is your favorite jake? jake. jake jake? jake...

there was no water today. and i was pretty smelly. i had to go to the gym, and they had no towels. of course, i still managed my usual mystique and glamour through extensive use of ... um, soap. though. anyway, nevermind.

italy is golden today, it's warm and summer is here. even with my camera and stereo stolen, enforcing loss of memories and lack of music over daily long-distance commutes, i am getting along. admirably, i'd say. i've replaced the digital camera with a polaroid, and i'm going to put an ancient tape-player where the mp3 CD player was. the upside is that a polaroid takes rad pictures and the tape-player lets me use my ipod in the VW van. whoop whoop! stylin' stylin' free stylin'! for free!

i stole this from poonannypie:


 
i expected a MUCH lower score... much much. i definitely never clicked any of the "ubergeek" buttons...

music: transmission (joy division)

countdown.

starting to feel myself a bit back to normal. one week until the final exam and they day after -- scotland! och.

tonight i cried.

because he has zero motivation.

because worse things have come out of his mouth.

because i'm going through the same thing.

why can't we talk about this? why can't we talk about things that are important? why does life stretch on and on with no end, and no happy ending? i hate i hate i hate i hate living. and i'm sure i'll laugh at this tomorrow, but right now it sure seems real.

cassini

and out with it! maybe you've all been wondering. wanting to know. is she? is he? are they? and now i'm here to tell you. i've found him, and his name is horizon. i searched for him, and his name is void. i chased him, and his name is remorse. i caught him, and his name is safety. he slipped away, and his name is sattelite. softly and fleeting, a kiss sitting on my tongue, shimmering, i lost him in the night sky. i tried to see him with another, failed, and saw him in my mind's eye, breaking free of the stars and crashing to earth again. "did you feel the earth shake?" he asked. naturally i did! the kiss slides down my throat, i'm swallowing. a sattelite? nay, mars has fastened itself glimmering, onto me, it has lost itself in my familiar terrain. i need a map to find my way through these early hours, alone. my head is not my own, and it's reclamation is in order. i'll put it off until tomorrow. leave uncharted territory cold and virgin. when i wake tomorrow the snow will have fallen and it will be new and foreign again anyway.