| someday i'll show you around a monster free tokyo's Journal |
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someday i'll show you around a monster free tokyo
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[29 Jun 2009|09:34pm] |
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i leave on wednesday morning for Vermont!
my address there is:
104 Barnes Ave, Apt 6
White River Junction, VT 05001
write me letters, or come visit me and go camping! i'm looking at you, forman
i wish i could write a thank you note to someone for my life. aside from jim.
have a good summer everybody
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| despite popular belief... |
[31 Jul 2008|12:45pm] |
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music |
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people photocopying things |
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LAKEHOUSE '08 IS HAPPENING!
so- labor day weekend, when is everyone off?
we can go any variant of Friday (august 29th) through Monday (september 1st).
let Jenn or I know as soon as you can.
adulthood = planning vacations around actual "vacation time" :[[
but it's onnn!
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| I know it's hard for a single person to fold queen-size bed sheets. |
[30 Jul 2008|01:54am] |
I've been gradually reading every issue of John Porcellino's King-Cat comics from the 80s/90s, and came across this- a letter written to him that he included at the end of issue 37. It's been stuck in my head a lot lately, and I thought it'd be a good preface to this entry.
"I was waiting in line to buy a case of pepsi. it was the express checkout and there was one person ahead of me and one behind. the guy ahead of me was buying two long stemmed roses (probably for his girlfriend because he was about 16 or 17 years old). the guy behind me was purchasing a box of tampons, some diapers, and 6 cans of gerbers baby food. he was probably in his mid 30s. so there i was in between the two of them, buying pepsi at the nowhere age of 22.
Aloysious, Dekalb, IL."
This past saturday, July 26th, was the ten year anniversary of my mom's death. A date I've been anticipating for a very, very long time. A loaded date that was slowly creeping toward me with the promise of... something. Something big. There would be a gratifying explosion, the day would come and my father, my brother and I would pack into the ol' station wagon and drive into the mountains where we'd all be zapped into the heavens, or something. I'd have some profound realization, create some monumental work of art, change something drastic about my life, or just finally let go.
Instead, the date came, passed, and ended in me getting drunk by myself in my parents above-ground pool while listening to Greenday until 1am, screaming along loud enough to wake the neighbors. For some reason, that was the only thing that made sense for my body to do.
And that's it.
It's 2008, I'm 22, and I have no idea what the fuck I am doing with myself. More responsibilities and financial debt than ever, still shaky in the wake of what was probably the most serious relationship I've ever been in, one semester into Graduate school, living with two people that I grew up with and haven't seemed to grow out of, drinking excessively while running around endlessly on little sleep, and utterly lost.
With that said, absolutely nothing has changed.
The context is different, sure, but I'm still essentially waging the same wars as I always have, trying to understand boys, feeling awkward at parties and unable to get the right words but forcing myself to stay in hopes that some unknown something will happen, throwing myself directly into the mouth of this city scene and praying that I won't stay stuck in the teeth anymore. "Find your place"? Unlikely. And I'm beginning to think that anyone who tells you they have is completely full of shit. It's a whole lot of bumping into each other and noise-making.
So, I come to this thought again- what is it that happens when you get older? And you and your friends forget about a lot of things that seemed so important before, and you can't remember what that joke was about, and you get nostalgic for things that happened only a few weeks ago, and your life from last year seems so different and detached that it's as if those memories belong to someone else and not you, and that with that said- maybe none of that actually mattered at all? Is it a beautiful thing? How do you justify emotions when you can look back at very painful, very profound experiences, and feel nothing at all? And when do you start admitting to yourself that you only really think about so-and-so when you're bored? And how many loves of your life did you think you'd collect by this point?
22 years old. My final plateau after a lifelong hormonal incline, the point where I've done what I figured I was supposed to do, and am suddenly grasping frantically for the pieces of the self I'd built when I now realize that none of it really mattered at all.
And so, in a way, while standing in the wake of it and staring bleakly out into the future, it seems an appropriate time to kill oneself. Only, I feel a bit old for that sort of behavior these days.
But the thing is, it's funny. In fact, it's fucking hilarious, cause I don't really give a shit anymore. There's nothing left to live up to, because from here on out it's just day by day. I'm free. At 22, I'm more lost than I've ever been in my life, and I am completely free to roam.
I didn't get zapped from a mountaintop, and I don't know myself any better than I did when I was 16, because life changes too fast for you to ever truly figure yourself out. You'll meet someone that will change everything by next year, you'll read a book or hear a song that will leave you heavy with a different sense of life than the one you have at this moment, and you'll linger in that one for a while. And this is how it feels to be this age, and sometimes I look at my past and wonder if there haven't been parts of myself that I've killed off. But when it comes down to it, I'm still here, and although on weeknights by 3am I often forget- I'm still alive.
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[22 Jun 2008|11:09pm] |
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"i guess i'm finally immune to some things but maybe not past others yet."
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| we've got it. |
[11 Feb 2008|01:09am] |
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man, the idea of writing in here has become so unattractive, not to mention near impossible because we haven't had an actual internet connection since we moved here in June. that is supposed to be changing soon though, so we'll see what happens.
some fragmented updates, best i can manage to do:
i work just about everyday at a frame shop in brooklyn, I've been there since June but it occurs to me now that I never really wrote much about it. i have the keys to the shop, and head in there early in the morning before anyone else gets in aside from a man from Trinidad who cuts the frames down in the basement. i pick up cheap coffee for us in the morning, and we bullshit for the few early hours before the store front opens up. (he tells a lot of great stories, recently one about a liquor store back home where the owner lived in a little apartment above the storefront. he would leave a basket full of pebbles on the ground outside of the store each night, and when anyone in the town wanted a bottle of something during the night, they'd come to his window and throw the pebbles at it until he woke up. they'd shout up to him what they wanted, and he'd lower a basket tied to a rope down to them. they'd put their money in the basket and send it up, and he'd send back down the bottle. i've been writing a lot of these down... using them in something, or somethings.) if it's nice out, we sit outside. or on the work benches with the windows open.
spend my days there with my hoodie up listening to punk music, framing some interesting art work usually, though it gets incredibly difficult with these people sometimes. new york city, jesus. day after day, to look another yuppie new york city hack in the eye and tell them with a smile that i'm going to charge them 750$ to frame their crappy pretentious art work, most of which they've already clearly been scammed for. it gets hard to do this day after day, for sure. to see that some of these people honestly believe that they're tasteful and cultured because they "collect art". the conversations can be unforgettable. there are others who have their drivers come in and drop off a "pile" of "art work", as well as a credit card. to be picked up, well whenever it gets done. it's amazing how it works. someone dropping the same amount of money to frame a tacky Kinkade print to hang in their bathroom as it costs me for one month of rent, an amount that i have to work nearly 50 hours a week each month to barely earn. phenomenal.
overall though, it's a brilliant job. listen to my music all day, frame, drink coffee, or pass around the occasional bottle of wine in the workshop. wear my hood up. talk to the neighbors. listen to stories.
there really isn't anything i can complain about at all in my life, and it occurs to me more and more everyday. i live with two of my best friends, and am in touch with nearly all of the rest of them. and the others that i don't get to see, i at least know their alive and still around. get off of work and come home to people i love, or head to the library, go meet keely at her bar. watching a girl that you were a kid with a few years ago mix and serve drinks from behind a bar, casually dismissing drunken come-ons from older men. it's really a trip. sitting in that place when it's empty in the evening before the rush starts, eating dinner on the bar with keely and maybe a few friends. some of the best moments. i love how it feels.
knowing the people i'm closest too in this world are in the same boat as i am, independent and working their ass off to make enough money to pay rent and get drunk whenever possible, or put themselves through school, or buy paint, or train tickets anywhere, or any other combination of minimal survival passion. and at the same time, and maybe even because of this notion, the past year has been one of the best i've ever had. and right now, this is probably the best i've felt in my life, the most alive and the most open and ready to die or live or see what's happening next, find out where we're going.
i don't think i've ever laughed this much. and living in new york city, all the non-stop wild shit that happens every night and weekend, it's incredible. walk to a local bar any night when there's nothing to do and watch some nobody punk rock band play, drunk and stage with only their best wasted friends in the bar. talk to strangers, make best friends in one night that you'll never see again. all the free art shows and exhibitions. it kills me how much there is going on, and though it sounds a bit corny, i've never felt so in touch with humanity before. heh. i don't know, it's all pretty amazing to me. very inspiring, and it keeps me awake.
also- i'm in graduate school at NYU for Library Science, in a dual program with LIU. Had a bit of an unsure start, but things have started to pick up and I'm really enjoying it now. Just hard to shake off the idea that I'm actually doing this, nerves about growing up, etc. Then it occurred to me that when I get out of this, I'll be the same person, just (hopefully) with a well-paid job that I actually love. The program I'm in is for "Rare Books and Special Collections", and it's the only one in the country. Lots of archive/museum jobs. I have an appointment to meet with one of the heads of the program about a video or music archive internship, which is ultimately the job I'm shooting for. We'll see what happens. The dynamics of the classes are a bit odd, mostly because I'm pretty much the youngest by a good 10 years. So getting picked up after class by Chris and going with him to paint a train tunnel until 4am just feels a bit out of context. It's a good thing though.
Starting to get rolling again on a few projects. Been writing a lot in my journal pretty regularly now, which is great. A few comic book ideas, one a sort of documentation of my conversations with strangers and homeless people. their stories, mine. etc. Another one that has been (very slowly) in the works for a while now, just generally about moving to the city, and being young. I'm registered for a table at the MoCCa festival again this year in June.
some cool stuff going on
-Daniel Johnston is playing next week at the Highline Ballroom. Tickets are only 20 and still on sale. I really recommend everyone to check it out, whether you've heard of him or not. Should be a pretty amazing experience if he actually makes it through the show.
-Jack Kerouac exhibition at the New York Public Library, main branch at bryant park. Checked it out over the weekend, really great stuff. Tons of original letters from Burroughs and Ginsberg and everyone else. A group of friends growing up together and starting their own fucking movement, amazing. Very cool to see so much personal stuff between them on display. http://www.nypl.org/press/2007/Beatific_exhibition.cfm
Also, there's a lecture on the Beat generation going on at NYPL toward the end of February, in conjunction with the exhibit. Definitely going to that, if anyone wants to join me.
-Chris Ware art show at some gallery uptown. http://www.adambaumgoldgallery.com/ (click on Upcoming Exhibit: Chris Ware). I haven't gone to see this yet, so if anyone is interested let me know and we'll work it out. Probably head up there sometime in the next two weeks.
that's all for now. i should write in here more instead of making these long disconnected binge updates.
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[07 Feb 2008|03:07am] |
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i guess the lord must be in new york city.
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[27 Dec 2007|09:40pm] |
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new years party at our new apartment in bushwick
9pm
32 varet st, apt 3R
all are welcome.
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| and so this is christmas. |
[25 Dec 2007|12:48am] |
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Writing briefly from the "guest room" in the upstairs of a house that didn't have an upstairs when it was my home. Came back a few weeks ago to find my bedroom changed into a den, flat screen tv, fantasy football on the new couch, and "i guess you can leave your bags in the kitchen."
Now upstairs, stiff sheets. Somebodies porcelain doll collection, I'm not sure whose.
Trying to fall asleep on Christmas eve, happy birthday mommy happy birthday thoughts, woken up by my father and step mother who forgot that they had hidden all of the presents in here, in the guest room. Flick on the light, sit up in bed and watch my father and step mother reach under the bed and into the closet, pull out all of the gifts in front of me and carry them downstairs. I want to scream in shock and protest but I'm 21.
And all I can think to myself is, "Did I do this?"
Did I really never realize that this was going to happen? And am I really in it? It seems that I'm really in it right now, it's here and it's time to wake up. Little tiny baby girl, you will be leaving soon. You will grow up so high that you can't stay here anymore, you can not stay here any longer. You just wouldn't fit.
Getting older and realizing that in general, you're happy. Generally, things are okay, and even more generally, things just "are." Feeling guilty about that. Trying to reach deep inside of yourself and rip something open, finding most of it healed over. Smooth bumps of scars, no scabs to scratch open and bleed out a little more. They just aren't there anymore. Concentrating hard on staying up all night to cry about something, falling asleep before you get started, because oh, oh yeah, I have to be up for work early in the morning.
it's in the bag in the basement filled with hundreds of teenage notes passed in the hallways between keely and i. the nights in rebecca's kitchen or bed, staying up late enough for that natural over-tired high to kick in. the parties, the dancing, the confessions and the shaking crying. the long drives to anywhere and the distractions found by never making it. the heaviness of every single thing.
for when a cigarette outside, or out the window of a car with music streaming, was so much more than a goddamn fucking cigarette.
here's to hormones.
for will, coming through my old bedroom window. and josh, and josh, and josh.
There are certain rooms in which I will never turn off the lights. Promise.
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[01 Dec 2007|03:39am] |
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last night in another apartment, moving out in the morning.
it's so strange, knowing things that have happened here, leaving them behind. going somewhere completely new knowing there will be things on top of things that will happen there as well, but haven't yet. that is the greatest fucking idea in the world, everything that hasn't happened yet. the way rooms begin to fill us after we're through emptying them out. and all of the faces that leave to mingle with other faces until you don't recognize them anymore.
here's to forced changes, my inability to be satisfied, and everyone willing to put up with that.
going to sift through and update from my notebook soon. more to come.
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| carnations |
[17 Oct 2007|12:18am] |
strange
what it is about the city that makes me want to be around children more.
a reminder,
of
a feeling
i'm more and more often forgetting how to remember,
and now,
how close I've come to letting the jolt of the subway throw me to the floor in the thick morning cloud.
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[08 Oct 2007|02:15am] |
So I guess it's fall, and I'm trying to think of what I've been doing lately. It's incredible how quickly being out of a "school environment" catches up with you, I feel almost everything I do lately to be entirely fruitless. Trying to write an email to a friend about what's new, taking over an hour to come up with just a few sentences. This shouldn't surprise me as much as it does though, considering the history of trouble I have sitting still. I can't go a single night alone without picking everything to pieces.
Generally though, things are going well. They're mostly just going. This is the first part of my life that I can't see past. Not necessarily in a bad way though, just in a way that I don't know what to expect at all. Everything is pretty open and loose and just flowing. In the process of applying for school for next semester. I'm sure everything I'm feeling now will change significantly once that's all happening.
Saw Mountain Goats twice this week, the first night alone. Cried for the sake of crying on the 2am subway home. Spent some time drinking in Phili, spent some time riding my bike in Montreal about a month ago. Been spending a lot of time watching fruit rot and not doing anything about it, watching my feet fall apart, ducking down and watching freight trains pass by on the side of some tracks with a boy who doesn't mind the days I don't say much. Riding my bike everywhere, spending more of my time missing people that i don't know anymore than i do trying to contact them. Missing my father from a weird part of my stomach and not knowing what to say on the phone with him, calling back and making up a lie of something else I forgot to tell him just to stay on the phone. Have become strangely comfortable crying in public. Rarely sleep through the night.
Man, what the fuck is it that happens when you get older.
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[22 Sep 2007|03:58am] |
for every time i wished i was 15,
for every time i wished i was dead.
for every time i wished i was anywhere else, sitting by myself listening to the replacements and singing along, singing myself to sleep, crying without knowing why, listening to anything else.
i'm sorry.
there are things i wish i could talk about to anyone, things i could sit next to you with and know you'd understand.
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| going back. |
[03 Aug 2007|01:15am] |
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any magic left,,,,?
kid throats. big midnights
and how i'd give anything for a curfew, sleep away this city.
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| the next life. |
[22 Jul 2007|10:33pm] |
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mood |
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drunk enough, |
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music |
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radiohead |
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Ahh, it's starting up again. That feeling I get when I know I'm slipping out of things. It hit me recently that I'm not at all sad anymore. Shortly after I realized that I'm not necessarily happy either, I've just settled into that odd adult contentedness that always scared me when I was younger. When everything else seemed so important and scary and beautiful and tremendous to me, and I'd watch the grown ups just go about daily life operating in this strange sort of emotionless median, just getting things done. Just getting done what needed to be done. Taking care. I guess that's what has happened, huh. Doing what you're supposed to, going about the routine. Being an adult and giving up on finding the meaning.
i remember laying awake in bed at night in the suburbs, focused on the glow of the streetlights coming in through my window and feeling like i was choking. and that was enough,,.
Wake me up, please. I want someone to show up drunk on my doorstep. I want someone to pass out in my bed with a head injury after we've been dancing too hard at a show, bleed until morning.
But god damn, brooklyn really is incredible. Just fucking unbelievable. I've never seen so many young people in one place in my entire life. And it can be so intimidating, until you realize that everyone is essentially just doing the same thing. Then it starts to feel like a club, or camp, or some weird kind of community where we're all in it together, though some feel bigger and better than others. That comes with the territory though, and if it weren't for those people, the good ones would never find the other good ones to talk shit about the rest with.
I do like it here. It's funny when you get used to living someplace and things just naturally start to feel natural, you've suddenly adapted and realized your home. I was talking to someone the other day about how sort of sad it is that the city is not "the city" anymore to me, but just a part of where I live. How excited I used to be just to take the subway. I remember getting on to the subway when I was younger and just staring at everyone and being so fascinated by everything, looking at the people who had their eyes closed or were reading a book, and thinking to myself "What are all DOING! You're missing out on this!"
And now I hardly look up.
I feel like I'm where I should be though. There's life everywhere, and it's just a matter of getting the guts up to join in on it. Things feel new in a way I've never experienced before. I get confused and get down about things but mostly I'm okay and really doing what I've always done, still searching for things but just in a much more crowded space.
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| "find your place." |
[29 Jun 2007|12:40am] |
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mood |
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hands hurting |
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music |
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not crickets |
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there is a complete lack of romance here. when trying to find something, door knobs fall off.
just let it roll under the couch for now, too tired to reach. i'll get it out when i need it
make do with the push and pull.
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[27 Jun 2007|01:33am] |
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music |
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explosions in the sky |
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big feelings.
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[18 Jun 2007|05:24pm] |
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I really need to make a detailed 'new life in Brooklyn' post soon, but it isn't going to happen now.
We're still settling in a bit, and Keely and I probably see each other less now than we had before. Everything has been a bit crazy, but it's starting to slow down and fall into place. I don't know anyone here at all here yet, so I'm alone a lot, but it's not so bad. I still don't feel completely at home, so I've been trying to do little things to get into habits that would make it all feel more regular and familiar. Standing outside in the morning, going for bike rides in the evening, eating at the same restaurants again and again.
I rode my bike down to Academy Records in Williamsburg this past Thursday and talked them into selling my comic book there. So, they bought a big pile of em, and now they're selling em for me. If anyone wants to go buy one, do it! For the most part though, I think I've given anyone I know personally a free copy anyway. It's cool to see em on sale though.
On the note of comics--
I'm exhibiting at the MoCCa festival next weekend, and it's going to be god damn AWESOME. If anyone doesn't know what MoCCa is... it's the Museum Of Comic and Cartooning Art. And for the past few years that they have been around, they've had this huuuuge festival at the end of June. Check the website for the exhibitor list: http://www.moccany.org/artfest-exhibitors-07.html
It's practically anyone and everyone doing comics now that you could want to see. And friggen Kim Deitch will be there on Sunday.
But anyway, as I said- I have a table and will be there with my stuff on both days, and anyone who wants to come really should. I think I'll know some people Saturday, but I'll be alone on Sunday for the most part and would love some company.
So- I turned 21 four hours ago, and spent the moment of it sitting in the back of a big airport van with Keith, driving back from JFK to my parents house in Commack. Spent the weekend watching my step sister get married in Virginia Beach, the whole family went down and our flight back got extremely delayed.
As a result, here I am four hours later, 21 and sitting around in an empty and quiet apartment. It would've been nice to be singing in a bar with a pile of friends around midnight, but this isn't too bad. For anyone who is going to be around tomorrow night- Bryant park plays movies on the grass most evenings, and just happens to be playing Annie Hall tomorrow. So, I'll be there with blankets and wine and whoever wants to join me. Aside from that, no major plans. I envisioned 21 much differently at a younger age, but mostly didn't envision myself getting there at all- so blankets, wine, and Annie Hall isn't so bad. Nor is solitude in a new apartment, in what feels like a brand new city. It's quiet and a bit lonely, but mostly okay.
I do miss a lot of people, and wish they were all still around, though it is a new and different and exciting summer. It's just so weird when you get older. You start doing things that make sense. And they sometimes make sense in the most normal and boring and awful ways when it comes down to it. You 'fall in love' with the people that it makes sense to fall in love with. You date the people that it makes sense for you to date. The ones that say the right things, enjoy the same interests, are generally 'nice' to you, and 'easy' to get along with. It's not what it was when you were younger, going crazy about certain people without the slightest clue as to why. Internal crazy hormonal instincts that you can't explain for shit, just take hold of certain people and drive you toward someone that hurts but you put up with it, and it feels real and human. Never feels like it makes sense. That was the best part.
That's not to say that crazy shit doesn't go down anymore, and really it's just a passing thought. But, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. And about how things just seem to happen in more of an orderly fashion. Steps that I keep on taking, or watching other people take. Moving, marriage, etc. After a certain point, life just keeps happening. And you stop thinking too much and start to just leave it at that.
What a bizarre weekend. What a bizarre 21 years.
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[31 May 2007|01:04am] |
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music |
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smashing pumpkins |
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strange. sleeping alone on the floor in an empty apartment
i hope the next part of my life is as good as this was.
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motion_victim's journal