30 November 2008

A Missing Melody

"No you, you just want to believe the truth is we're fine, Just want to have a good time, have a good time tonight." -Headlights
Sometimes, people become shackled by what they believe. You want to have morals and live a Christian life, but then you're conservative and awkward and scared. You want to live a life of honesty and ultimate truth, but then you're overbearing and overwhelming. And when things don't work out, you're locked into a conundrum: do you continue to pursue what you believe to be the truth, or do you hide everything you feel deep inside, and let someone else's truth become the reality? I don't like to deny the most real feeling I have ever felt. Last night sounded empty. Felt quiet. Tasted like loneliness. Smelled like sleep. I'm trapped in these blue sheets, twisting and turning, sleeping (or not) on piercings, ripping little tears in the skin that hasn't yet completely healed. We're stuck in the molds of our body shapes. Our heads drown in the pillows as we struggle to break free. We twist, and turn, and roll, and grip, and grind, and groan (electric shocks on aching bones). We bend the bars of the bed a little bit. We stare into windows silently on a grumbling subway express; we stare at each other's reflection. Last night forgot the words. Last night lost two hours of conversation. Last night, listless without laughter, and tiny sighs. Last night, chained back to routine after a bout of rebellion. Last night, we were shackled to nothing. We were free of each other. I was trapped in remembering (you like a deer in the) Headlights.
"The soundtrack to our meeting fills the awkward spaces between our strained breathing. Here's what I intended. Here is the truth." -The Honorary Title

26 November 2008

Dusting Off My Keyboard - Finally a New Post

My absence leaves this mirrored hall empty with echoes of dust motes wafting silently, softly, their reflections multiplying in the glamor glaze of window panes and the checkered floor almost looks as if it's covered with snow. Not much has happened. Here is a good video of the Rock of Ages cast. I have weird lines on my wrist from sleeping on it the wrong way, little red creases, weaving in and out of my skin. I wonder if they resemble the age wrinkles that I will someday develop on my face, around the corners of my eyes, little tiny permanent laugh lines. In the face of fear, I'm just going to laugh. My horoscope today seemed particularly apt, as it said, "Why are you fearing emotional upheaval when all you're going to have is an awful lot of fun?" I will take your advice, staunch 'scope, and if you turn out to have misled me, you will taste my wrath. But let's hope things all go well, on this upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. With that in mind, here are 10 things I am thankful for: 1. Family/friends/my house etc. 2. Constantine's voice 3. That HAIR is going on Broadway in 2009 4. Birds chirping outside of my window in the morning 5. Old school cd players 6. That I finally have a little bit of free time (that isn't technically free, but I'm going to pretend it is) 7. My mini-heater 8. Marshmallows 9. My Hungarian cousin (Andris) who always faithfully writes me e-mails even when I take weeks to write back to him. 10. Belief & Absolute Certainty And now, I must shower, and then bake apple pie, and then head to class, and then meet with Jo, and then give her a b-day present, and then get on the M60 bus to LaGuardia Airport. And then... mystery. I'm just a dust mote floating alongside the snow.

20 November 2008

Fast Lane

Two minutes to seven, which is the time I planne--- oh, one minute to seven, which is the time I planned to take a shower. I woke up around 2 am. And then again around 3:30 am. And then again around 5:45 am. And was extremely awake every single time. And stayed awake until the alarm at 6. I think I'm getting used to running on only a minimal amount of sleep again, and that makes me happy. Life ... Oh, my minute is up. I'm thinking of lucky clouds shaped like helmets. Some quick news tidbits: 1. Thanksgiving weekends bodes interesting. 2. Real-life Furbys (mentioned to me by Wes) 3. Hungarians are pessimistic and unhappy with their lives (according to this poll) 4. I find it somewhat disturbing and really quite sad that Obama and his wife probably won't sleep in the same bedroom, but uplifting that they might have sex (I can't believe this is news.) 5. I want a regenerated mammoth pet, please! 6. What's the link between McDonald's and cocaine? 7. Really interesting/cool film posters (My favorites are Eagle vs. Shark and Tideland) Have a good day, make someone smile, maybe I'll write again later. Peace. Love.

18 November 2008

Uncomfortable and Uncertain

Dream Part A: Chris and I went into a co-ed bathroom and he helped me find a stall and then I was taking a piss when some old lady looked over the door and was like "Can I ask you a question?" And I'm like "Can you do it without looking?" And she asked me something about Mary and Jesus, and I didn't know the answer. Dream Part B: I was on a lake with Nikki and we saw William swimming nearby. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Relatively uneventful dreams, I guess. There's a lot to do today homework-wise, as well as registration for classes, which I'm still uncertain about. I want to be a pen-pal with someone in prison, but I'm uncomfortable with giving out my address and don't have money to get a P.O. Box.

15 November 2008

And When It's Over

People can only stay in a mold for so long. Eventually, they're going to break free. They're going to remember how to live. "Feeling much older. Knowing that there was no regret. Touching your shoulder, Feeling the joy in what we've done. As we sailed into the sun, with our hearts and souls as one. Feeling free as the sea... And when it's over, Gazing into your gentle eyes, Pulling you closer, Knowing what's there inside our minds. Both of us older, Now that there's nothing left to hide. As we reach to touch the sky..."
-Bert Sommer

"I wanna rock..."

Go see Rock of Ages! Will Swenson + Constantine Maroulis = The songs are fun, the energy is incredible, and those two voices make your heart soar. I highly recommend this musical, and I guarantee that by the end of it, you'll be on your feet and clapping. And the theatre is pretty small, so wherever you sit is pretty close. I was in row H, but I'm going again this upcoming Friday with Wes with tickets for row A, so that's exciting! (If only it were like Hair, where you could go on stage at the end). -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brief Update: Today is just homework day. Tomorrow is more homework + pies + Slumdog Millionaire.

14 November 2008


I try to convince myself to remain in a half asleep state, even as my computer boots up and Mozilla freezes momentarily while it loads. I close my eyes and my brain feels tight, like it's squishing itself, compacting itself together into a small aluminum foil ball, like I do to my sandwich wrappers after the food is all gone. The dream is already almost gone. It was about Journalism class, and I was talking about how I couldn't get a source to talk with me, and then Betty (my professor) was leaving the room and telling us we couldn't leave for another hour. And so everyone just sat there, but I went off into this downstairs room or something, and apparently there was this guy. And we got along superbly well. And so we talked, and talked, and it didn't even matter that I was missing my classes and missing my train and missing dinner, and whatever other parts of my life I was missing out on by sitting down there in that cold, dim room with him. His shape wavered, shimmered almost when a light was on, glowed softly in the dark when it was not. He wasn't real; I knew this much in the dream. I could touch him, but when I did, all we could each feel were slight pressures on our fingertips, on our bodies, on our lips and on our tongues. It was like a phantom limb; you convinced yourself you could feel it, but somewhere inside its crunchy, silvery folds, your brain knew you couldn't. But I remember being happy. And I remember telling him not to go. And I remember him telling me this was no way to spend my life. And I remember that it didn't matter if he was physical or not, because he was everything I needed. Then I woke up groggily, but with a slight sense of urgency that sent me scurrying for the cellphone among my blanket folds. I had overslept. I forced myself to swallow, and my tongue, burnt from salted caramel extra-hot hot chocolate, brushed against the roof of my mouth, a little bit painful, and a little bit numb.

13 November 2008

Bird Call

The cycle has resumed again, as the trees shed their molten leaves. The floor is littered with tiny paper hearts, tiny carcasses, tiny little lives. The branches become bare. The sun slips further off into the sky. The full moon makes people crazy. The winter chill slips down your spine, numbs your hands and lips and teeth. You start to forget the simple things, like boats on a Hungarian lake, or feeding squirrels in Washington DC. I am pretending. I am pretending to be a squirrel. The squirrel is pretending to be a bird. I am pretending to be a squirrel pretending to be a bird. He flattens his tail out against his back, hair spiking up into the air. His tiny, beady eyes look up at the sky and he bird-calls, then stops, waits, clicks twice (as though in impatience, or frustration), and tries again. He never gets a response, but he's always out on that tree branch, trying and trying and trying. And that's just what we do, time after time. When we want something badly enough, when we care about becoming something badly enough, we just fall into that pattern of human stubbornness. But sometimes what we want is an illusion. Sometimes, we have to be satisfied with the way things are. Obviously I, of all people, shouldn't talk. As Adam has said many times in the past, I am insatiable. And there's probably only about two future/life outcomes that would leave me fully, completely satisfied. Or, at least, mostly. And, unfortunately, until I reach those, I'm going to keep trying. Going to keep plowing ahead. Stand on my little branch and make strange sounds and let the whole world think I've gone insane. I'll jump into the chaos, because I am not afraid. Oh little squirrel, you are not a bird. The birds do not try half as hard as you.
(This is not the same squirrel, but this is what he looked like.) (© Jim Wilson) (got the image here)

08 November 2008

Depressing Note

I think the saddest thing in the world is this, the Wikipedia entry for Bobby Driscoll, who was the model and voice actor for Disney's Peter Pan. He died of drug addiction, in a NYC abandoned tenement, alone.

07 November 2008


"Reeds and brass, the marching drums Make a joyous sound Trees bend low with nuts and plums Then fall to find the ground. I hunger for your porpoise mouth And stand erect for love. The sun burns up the winter sky And all the earth is love." - Country Joe and the Fish ("Happiness is a Porpoise Mouth")
Sometimes I wonder what people think of when they see me on the subway, bobbing to music (which at this point is most likely either Country Joe and the Fish, Bert Sommer, or the Hair soundtrack), looking kind of crazy, singing along silently, not really giving a damn whether they're watching or not. Which, I don't. They can think whatever they want. I think I'm just curious to know people's reactions. To see whether or not it's something they judge me for. What kind of frame do they set up for me in their heads? Or is this just New York City, where they shrug it off and don't really form any opinions at all? I guess I won't know, but I speculate sometimes. If I saw someone bopping around to music on the subway, looking as crazy as I do, I'd surely talk to them, or at least send them over a smile. This girl on the subway smiled at me the other day. She looked like the type of person I would like to be. Plain, with nothing remarkable about her clothing. I don't even know if I remember what she was wearing, except for the glasses, which were big and bottle-like. Really old-fashioned, and nothing flashy. Long hair, brown, just straight down. Pretty average-looking face. And yet, I thought that she was probably the most beautiful female I've ever seen. Something about the way she carried herself, the way she seemed so natural. The easiness of her smile. The way it transmitted an unspoken, joyous sound. I would love to find someone brave enough to make a joyous sound, even if it meant everyone else would judge them for it. I would hunger for that porpoise mouth; I would burn the world with beautiful love. (I would not go to poetry readings alone.)

04 November 2008


Weird dream last night: I was a journalist on a train full of important people going to an important meeting, but suddenly the "bad guys" came out from hiding and overtook the train. They happened to look like all the important people, and so they assumed their identities and left most of the real people for dead. I wasn't killed because I had sort of been flirting with one of the bad guys, having suspected that something strange was going on. A few other important people weren't killed to later be used as hostages, Adam wasn't killed, and some other male journalist also wasn't killed, but he was being forced to write what they wanted him to write. Then somehow we were all being held hostage in this house, but we had an outside contact who helped us overtake them. And we did, and for one night we partied (there were maybe 10 of us versus like 100 of them), but then we weren't sure what to do with them, because we didn't want to kill them, and so by sheer number they took us over again. They locked the three leaders (me, Adam, journalist guy) in a room, and we looked outside the window and there was like a giant, giant dog monster thing. So like a year later they took us out of the room and some guy tied us up in a car and was going to drive us to our deaths (and i guess kill himself too), but we managed to kill him and escape, although there was some sort of explosion. We all separated, trying to avoid being caught. Two years later, or something like that, I just knew it was a really long time and that I had tried to erase all traces of my life (facebook, etc.) so they would think I was dead... I'm outside my building and I see this guy in a baseball cap walking toward me and it turned out to be journalist dude and he had these burn marks on his face. And I'm like "Is it really you?" And he's like "Yes. I've been searching for you." And I'm like "Does this mean you're not gay?" And he's like "Yes." And then we kiss. And then I wake up -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm not sure why it was so long. Maybe my brain added things when I woke up, strung things together more fluidly. I'm not sure. It was interesting, though. In other news, way too much work this week. Going to talk with the homeless place today. And most importantly, go vote Obama. If you're going to vote McCain, just do us all a favor and stay home. :) Peace & Love

02 November 2008

Song of the Day

Prank Calls and Commentary

Please, please check this out. Sarah Palin got prank-called. Here is the transcript, with a few typos, but I like it because it explains some stuff. It's so good, trust me. Don't they screen calls like that, or something? Is it really that easy to prank call Sarah Palin? I mean, I do feel pretty bad for her. Like, if she really believed it was the French president, she's not going to like disagree with him or correct him or anything. So, I mean, I do think it was kind of wrong, and I do feel bad for her, and I honestly don't think she handled it all that badly, but it is so funny, especially when he starts singing. In other news, Halloween didn't really feel like Halloween. You know what I mean? No Trick or Treating, no giant group parties with lots and lots of food, no kids ringing the bell like crazy at ten o'clock at night. It just turned out really low key in contrast with past Halloween nights : from going door to door as a kid, to going door to door with Jo, to playing Twister last year. It wasn't bad, though. I'm going through my Halloween candy way too fast. I'm going to be pretty sad when I've eaten it all. Whoppers Malted Milk Balls are my new favorite. Actually, a lot of things don't feel normal, lately. I've been showing more restraint about some things, some pacts I've made with myself. I expected them to be broken by now. But I'm kind of glad that they haven't really crumbled, because it means I'm getting stronger. At the same time, I know that my restraint will melt if the situation is powerful enough. This is getting into that vague territory where I know what I mean, and maybe one other person knows what I mean, but everyone else is just like "Yeah, why am I still reading this?" So, in effort to curb that confusion, let me stop my rambling at that. And start rambling about something else... like Twilight, which comes into theatres November 21. Sort of a long time from now. I'm debating about whether it will pass quickly or slowly. I think it depends on what you're comparing it to. For example, if I look back at the past months of school, it seems to have both flown by and dragged on it its heels. If I think about it in terms of the semester, I would think: Wow, it's already been two months. But if I think of it in terms of when I went to Hungary, I think: Wow, it's only been two months since then. I guess time is relative, but it's a weird dynamic. Not sure who I'll see Twilight with. It would be cooler if I knew someone else who had read the book. I feel like movie-going is one of those things where there are some people who are perfect to go with, and some people who aren't, and you have to try and go with the right people. And I think it depends on your movie watching style. Personally, I don't mind commentary during the movie, as long as it's not during the best parts, and as long as it's not complaining. I tend not to talk too much, though. Well, that's all for now my break is just about over and I should go eat something and then go back to doing Hungarian homework. "Your ride. Best trip."