| This stain on the carpet, this drink in my hand. |
[entries|friends|calendar] |
|
| Weekend slipping out of grip |
[16 Nov 2009|01:52am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 "none, or other" |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The New Pornographers- "The Body Says No" |
] |
So, my previous report was ill-informed-- My dog Tango is indeed a father, but not of 6 puppies as previously reported. Nope. Instead, my powerful stud of a labrador breeding machine fathered NINE (yes, count them! 9!) little puppies. Seen here with their mother in their first couple days of life, the puppies are now a little over 10 days old. They are much less sticky now, but still as confused as previously reported.
Here's a video my sister and my dad made for me. See? They're still in their eyes-shut skinny-little-mole look. This of course means I'll be greeted with a flood of adorable labrador puppies trampling over me and licking my face when I get to Barranquilla in a little less than a month. As if I wasn't excited enough to visit my family already.
Would it be ridiculously cliché of me to point out how quickly the year passed by? It would be, wouldn't it? It hit me a couple days ago when I realized I'm less than 30 days away from my trip. I thought "holy shit-- we're in November already?" and panicked at the thought of all the shit I got to do before my trip. Also the fact that while time seems to rush by at a ridiculous speed, my station in life is very much unchanged. But I guess this is what it's supposed to be, right? College. The in-between years. "Twennui" and all of that. Or at least that's what I'll tell myself for now.
So I realize I haven't really been posting a lot. Or at all. I'd love to say that this is because I'm extremely busy but that would be a bold-faced lie. Fact of the matter is, although I HAVE been flooded with work, school, social and creative commitments, I've also just been feeling extremely... blank. I mean, shit, I've been writing a lot. I've been writing for the website, I've been writing scripts, I'm involved in a poetry workshop. I've been writing a lot of fiction. But I just feel like my ability to be grandiloquent about my tiny little everyday victories and defeats has greatly diminished. I'm not sure exactly why.
But fuck it. I'm gonna make an effort to write here more often. Maybe it'll come back to me. This is not gonna be that post, though. For now, I'll fill this space with some recent pictures of the awesome people who surround me.
( Click it. You know you want to. )
|
|
| Mindlessly contributing to the problem of pet overpopulation |
[04 Nov 2009|05:19am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 all-nighter |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Louis Armstrong- "Savoyager's Stomp" |
] |
I am very glad to announce that my good buddy Tango has just become the proud father of six very confused, very sticky labrador puppies.
Both mother and puppies are healthy and in good spirits, albeit still very confused and sticky.
Expect a ridiculous amount of pictures when I get there (in less than 40 days!).
|
|
| October and the leaves are stripped bare |
[23 Oct 2009|05:52pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 kinder murder |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Steve Nieve- "Muriel's Window" |
] |
Goddamn it October. Just when I resolve to hate you and curse you and blame my misfortunes on "the month", you turn around and throw me a curveball or three.
Facts: This month has been strange. Many small personal defeats and a couple victories. It's found me faced with the crumblings of a relationship and the edification of a new one. Everything's very new and tentative for the time being but I'm excited about what may happen. I'm of course a walking calamity and liable to fuck everything up with my overzealous neuroses, but what else is new?
I'm still disenchanted with "love", whatever that means. But I feel it's callous and obnoxious of me to keep whining about it. At this point I'm just shrugging and going "well, whatever". There's only so much one can go on about the futility of human interaction and how every man is a phony and every girl is a whore before realizing it's really just the bitterness of the defeated poking through. That said, I dig this girl. I guess we'll just see where this goes, yeah?
Now I'm a screenwriter for an upcoming web-based satirical soap opera that's gonna start production next month, so that's an interesting and unexpected turn of events. The plotline is ridiculously convoluted and revolves around the death a thinky-veiled caricature of Colombia's president Alvaro Uribe. It promises to be oodles of fun. I can't believe I just used the word "oodles".
I've been listening to a lot of country music lately, strangely enough-- George Jones, Gram Parsons, Emmylou Harris, the Everly Brothers, Willie Nelson-- although I'm sticking closer to the countrypolitan stuff (sweeping string arrangements, female backup singers, songs of heartbreak and alcohol abuse) than the standard trucks-and-dead-dogs "I met her in a jail cell in Atlanta" fare. I also get a kick out of setting my iPod on shuffle and seeing it jump from a Ramones song to "Hot Burrito #1".
I also finally got around to buying the MGMT album (rock solid fun, as expected-- "Kids" is still the one song I can't stop listening to) as well as NoFX's "Coaster" (pretty standard latter-day NoFX, but still awesome to rock out to). I saw Boom Boom Kid at some obscure and impossible-to-get-to arena in the outskirts of Buenos Aires last week and for the first time ever, felt really old. This can't be right. I'm only 22. Feeling old at 22 is all kinds of wrong. But seriously, I felt like I was surrounded by kiddies. It was awful. Good show, though.
Kary was here a few weeks ago. It was great to see her after all this time, albeit for a very short time. Seeing her brought back a whole lot of memories from high school-- it had been over 4 years since I last saw her.
I've already got my plane ticket for my trip to Colombia in December. It's gonna be so badass. I got word a couple days ago that my dog Tango is officially gonna be a father soon, which means I'll be surrounded by little labrador puppies by the time I get home (since the mother moved in with him and they now reside together in my grandmother's backyard).
Oh! And the efforts of creepdom pay off after I write Steve Nieve (of Elvis Costello and the Attractions/Imposters fame) a heartfelt message on Facebook lamenting the fact that I can't find his solo discs anywhere and he sends me a package with all of them and a handwritten note by mail! What a standup guy that Nieve is. How many members of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame have written YOU a letter, hm? I'll answer that for you: NONE!
|
|
| Chance encounters |
[04 Oct 2009|02:29pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
overhung |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Raveonettes- "Uncertain Times" |
] |
Man I don't even know.
|
|
| I've changed my plea to guilty. |
[25 Sep 2009|11:39am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 cold chau mien |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Pixies- "Gigantic" |
] |
Sometimes I forget that being a broke college student should be synonymous with precarious living conditions (and less than healthy eating habits).
It's character-building, or something.
|
|
| An explosion! |
[19 Sep 2009|02:20pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 satturday morning revisiting |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Leonard Cohen- "Closing Time" |
] |
Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing
but there's nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she's a hundred but she's wearing
something tight
and I lift my glass to the Awful Truth
which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn't worth a dime
|
|
| A quick pick-me-up. |
[17 Sep 2009|02:17am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
forgetful |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Chet Baker- "They All Laughed" |
] |
You know, it never fails.
For as sad as I get (and I get sad, though I do a great job of hiding it with clever remarks and strategically placed flashes of honesty), as far deep into my pit of self-loathing and despair as I find myself (which is pretty fucking deep these days; I've fashioned a hole for myself that's been my home in moments of need since age 16), as disenchanted as I am with interpersonal relationships in general (love? Love is bullshit, men are liars and girls are whores), as much as it pains me to know that I will very probably never find someone I like as much as I liked her and how awful and frustrating it is that we can't work together (oh man-- feels like sand slipping through my clutching fingers), as much of a needy, overbearing asshole as I end up feeling (you don't even wanna know),
all I have to do is type "Space Ghost: Coast to Coast" into youtube and 15 minutes later, all will be right with the world once again.
You know. For a little while.
Until I remember.
|
|
| A video. |
[13 Sep 2009|12:44am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 ceni |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
U.S. Bombs- "Jaks" |
] |
In which I am so irritating.
|
|
| If I didn't I'm a fool, you see. |
[11 Sep 2009|05:52pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
sushifilled |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Pearl Jam- "Just Breathe" |
] |
Turns out a big sushi lunch with a couple glasses of wine in the middle of a fucking workday isn't a very good idea. Who knew? The curtain right next to my desk broke and the sun's hitting my left cheek pretty hard. All of this and the air conditioned office environment is making me incredibly sleepy. This last hour has gone forever. And I'm in for four more of them before I can leave the office. Oyy.
My dad has got it into his head that he wants to start a rehabilitation center for high-class Colombian junkies. This is pretty random, but I guess the idea of him starting the Event House was pretty fucking random too and it worked out fine. His life has had enough crazy up-and-downs to justify this (apparently) crazy decision. I dunno. It sort of makes sense if you sit and think about it. We have this incredible piece of real-estate, this house in Puerto Colombia, five minutes away from the ocean. Beautiful house. Spacious. Lots of room. Big patio. Swimming pool. And it's just sitting there, unused because we can't sell it since it's so absurdly expensive. Colombia is full of rich families with druggy kids who will pay any amount to get them cleaned up. It makes sense. I think he could do very well if he surrounds himself with the right people. He's an industrious fellow, my dad.
Finally got around to fully digesting the Los Campesinos album-- I know, how very 2008. But it was highly recommended to me by a couple close acquaintances whose music tastes I trust very much (probably because it's a music taste in which I played a big role in edifying) so I picked it up a few months ago and never really got to listening to it other than as background music while drawing every once in a while. At first I was kind of put off by the band-- they seemed like snobby, androgynous English art students, which they might as well be, for all I know. But upon further listening, I was actually pleasantly surprised-- the indie-sloppy-intricate arrangements aren't as much "look what we can do!" as they are "we want to take you on a ride, these songs are an experience". And that's good. One thing I can't stand is how ridiculously compressed the sound is. It feels like I'm listening to medium-quality mp3s.
I hate downloading music because it genuinely feels like stealing. For the last few years I've been dedicating myself to only downloading individual tracks from certain albums as to sample them, but I won't let myself be that person who goes on a torrent site and downloads a band's entire discography. I feel like not only is that detrimental to the value of music as an art but it will also rob me of the experience of discovery-- of absorbing each track and making it a part of my life before moving on to the next album. With the ridiculous mass downloading of everything an artist has done, you lose that. It all becomes just a big wash. Song identities are blurred. So I usually scoff at avid downloaders and people who download leaked material.
This is where I become an enormous hypocrite.
The new Pearl Jam album leaked. I'm downloading it. I'm downloading it like I downloaded the first single and zealously devoured every bit of unreleased music that the band teased us with during the last couple of months in the form of live performances, 30-second Amazon clips. Of course, it had to leak during business hours, while I'm stuck in an office. As much as an asshole as I feel when I download leaked material, I'll do it in the comfort of the knowledge that when it does hit stores, I'll buy it. From what I've heard, most of it sounds like old-school Pearl Jam had sex with The Cure. Some of it sounds like Eddie's work for "Into the Wild" had sex with itself. And word from the fine gentlemen at the Pearl Jam forum is that it's easily the best Pearl Jam album of this decade.
Which isn't really saying much considering there's only been 3 of those, out of which one had an avocado on the cover and zombie depictions of the band members inside.
I've become increasingly frustrated with the number of idiots in my school. Seriously. It's hard to feel encouraged when you look at your classmates and the enormous majority are complete fucking potzers. Save for a handful of people I genuinely consider to be complete geniuses and with whom I believe I can establish a working relationship, I think I'm surrounded by either pretentious film geeks or absolute morons. Not that those two things are mutually exclusive.
The week is fucking over. Thank God. You know that Loverboy song, "Working for the Weekend"? That's what I'm feeling like these days. It's ridiculous. I've become a walking, talking cliche. And even though I don't really feel like doing anything, it feels incredibly liberating to just have the option to. Tomorrow= Some Japanese festival-thing with La Cosa and some of her weird nipponophyllic friends. Then a party where I'm supposed to wear weird shit on my head. Sunday night= Picnic by the river with Flor and then perhaps hang out with Daniela.
There's a few parties going on tonight that I've been graciously invited to but I don't really feel like partying. I'm gonna be in the office 'til pretty late, I think, making up hours, so I'll probably be exhausted by the time I get out. What probably will happen is I'll spend the entire evening listening to the new PJ, trying to coax my would-be lover into giving me a little of her time and watching Jules et Jim for the umpteenth time.
Yay, weekend.
|
|
| I'm watching the sea. |
[31 Aug 2009|08:51am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 waterfront |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Billie Holiday- "I Cover the Waterfront" |
] |
I need to stop putting so much stock in the weekends. Eventually they come around and I juice them for all they're worth but they're ultimately just a couple of days. Monday morning will inevitably find me sitting in the office dreading the rest of the week. And as much fun as I had, Saturday and Sunday will always feel like a promise unfulfilled.
This one was particularly fun, though. The Argentinean branch of music channel former-celebrities-looking-for-love-reality-show channel VH1 threw a party on Saturday and I was lucky enough to attend. There were pseudo-celebrities galore and ridiculously overpriced drinks, but a pretty good dance floor-- my entire body was in pain by the end of the evening from all the singing and dancing. Platypi just aren't built for 5 straight hours of straight-faced, non-ironic dancing to 80's classics such as "The Final Countdown" and "You Give Love a Bad Name".
I've found myself in extremely unlikely situations, faced with circumstances that would've made my head spin just about a year ago. I've found myself at odds with my situation in life; measuring what's "right" against what's "healthy" against what makes me happy. Pros and cons. Weighing of options. It's disgusting. But I think I'll pull through.
I am very close to convinced that "I Cover the Waterfront" is the greatest jazz ballad ever written. I am listening to Billiw Holiday's rendition right now. Holy fuckholes, what a beautiful tune.
I've been corresponding with the awesome Steve Nieve, he of Attractions/Imposters fame, through Facebook messages. I found him in my search for Welcome to the Voice stuff (the opera he wrote/recorded with The Brodsky Quartet and a few other talented individuals) and decided to take the leap and add him. To my surprise, he actually accepted, and we've been exchanging messages over the past couple of weeks. He is a genuinely down-to-earth, nice guy, if a little dry. He's asked for my address to send me some samples of his work that has not been published this side of the world. I am excited. Yes, I am a total creep, but how many Rock and Roll Hall of Famers are YOU friends with on Facebook? Yeah, I thought so.
August was a pretty long month. Thankfully, not as long as the eternity that was July. And the fact that it's already September is as encouraging (just a few more months to go before my trip back home for the holidays) as it is alarming (did that year just fly by or what?!).
Here are a bunch of awesome ( pictures. )
|
|
| Don't you forget about me. |
[21 Aug 2009|05:11pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
don't you |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Grandaddy- "Fentry" |
] |
On August 6th of this year, iconic filmmaker and writer John Hughes died of a heart attack in New York at age 59. I found out later that same afternoon while going over my Facebook page and seeing "RIP John Hughes" on a couple of my friends' Statuses. I was shocked.
The rest of the day went by. I went to school for a final. My friends noticed how sad I was. I couldn't concentrate, mumbled through my oral presentation and left. The early hours of August 7th found me walking aimlessly through Buenos Aires with "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want" by The Smiths playing on repeat and my eyes fixed straight on the asphalt, wishing the world knew exactly how much they had just lost.
John Hughes made a lot of movies. He was an accomplished director as well as a prolific writer and producer in the eighties and early nineties. It broke my heart when I read the newspapers the next day refer to him as "creator of the Home Alone franchise". This is a slap in the face of the legacy of a man whose work transcended (as well as redefined) the "teen comedy" genre, up from the lowbrow sex-related yuk-yuks of "Porky"s and other such shenanigans to genuine character studies. Teenagers in cinema stopped being bumbling, clueless pseudo-adults and developed into three-dimensional characters with warmth, complexity and the ability to empathize. Adults became the cynical and loveless counterpoint to the vibrancy and strangeness of the teenage existence, as tumultuous and tormenting as it was. Because when you grow old, your heart dies.
I owe John Hughes a lot. Like everybody else who ever saw one of his flicks at a certain age, I saw myself in those characters. I too was struggling to find my place in the microcosm that was high school. I too found myself extremely frustrated by the falseness and cruelty of social interactions which I was either a victim of or had bought into. It's almost a cliche to say it, but high school was very much a battlefield. And as someone who never really fit into any group-- I was too normal to be a freak, too weird to be a cool kid-- the fact that there seemed to be somebody out there-- "out there" being Hollywood-- who understood my plight and didn't satirize it was extremely comforting.
"Breakfast Club" was instantly one of my favorite movies when I saw it. It was also one of the first scripts I read on my computer, over and over again, from start to finish, like a madman. There was something in that screenplay, something in those dialogues that made me feel understood. Less alone.
I saw in John Bender parts of what I wanted to be, and parts of what I was becoming. I winced as I recognized more of myself than I would have liked in Anthony Michael Hall's character. Even Molly Ringwald's frustration with her place in life was something I could relate to. And the fact that these characters were so honest in their duplicity and phoniness and the deconstruction of their individual stereotypes showed me that in reality, as cruel as our teenage existence was, we were all equally lost within it. It's something I still feel to this day.
My discovery of his filmography was akin to finding out all your favorite songs came from the same band. It's something that happened to me when I started reading up on Phil Spector by virtue of his work in "All Things Must Pass" and then slowly realizing he'd produced all this shit that I loved and I was already a fan of. My mind was overflowing with memories as I looked through his filmography and recognized movies I had loved when I was much younger in which he was either a writer, director or producer-- Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Weird Science-- hell, he had even been responsible for the Beethoven movies, which were a huge part of my life growing up. And it dawned on me that he was already one of my favorites long before I even knew his name.
John made wonderful movies and wrote wonderful characters. Sure, he may have disappeared from the scene in the 90s, but there was something comforting about knowing that he was there-- that he existed. Because he still knew. He knew that the world was full of adults with their heads so far up their own asses that they're blind to everything but their own neuroses. He knew that there was something wonderful about the uncertainty of a teenager, and that we're really just trying to find ourselves amidst all the chaos. And he encouraged us to keep the magic in our hearts and remain silly and believe in the magic that is in the world. I know he certainly helped me be who I am today. And for that, I am extremely grateful. Thank you, John.
"I don't think I want to know a six-year-old who isn't a dreamer, or a sillyheart. And I sure don't want to know one who takes their student career seriously. I don't have a college degree. I don't even have a job....But I know a good kid when I see one. Because they're ALL good kids, until dried-out, brain-dead skags like you drag them down and convince them they're no good. You so much as scowl at my niece, or any other kid in this school, and I hear about it, I'm coming looking for you! Take this quarter, go downtown, and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face! Good day to you, madam."
|
|
| More to be glad for |
[13 Aug 2009|05:46am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 bf |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
REM- "Can't Get There From Here" |
] |
|
|
| You've been told |
[12 Aug 2009|02:14pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 won't return here |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Lali Puna- "Grin and Bear" |
] |
Quilmes is a little slice of peace and quiet south of hectic Buenos Aires. St. George's school is a staunchly Lutheran, private institution where the Ashton family has been living for the past 30 years. Father Ashton has been in every conceivable position within the school infrastructure since he first started working there-- from faculty helper to school headmaster and director, to his current position as staff English teacher. His retirement is coming up and the future is uncertain. They'll have to move out of the wonderful colonial-English style accommodations. Marcos is my good friend and just lost his job because of an apparent lack of conviction. We used to work together for ICF, doing passive recruiting for a number of projects in the United States and Canada. We sat there together, chomping on asado and drinking beer, basking in the warmth of the sunlight in our little armchairs, far from the concurrent buzzsaw hum of traffic and people. And we sat there, the Ashtons with their uncertain future and me with my uncertain future (and present) and we just didn't really care. About anything. And I thought about all our little melodramas and my own struggles and insecurities and how they all amount to absolutely nothing. And it didn't feel defeating, or like giving up. It felt a little like letting go, like yielding, like giving way to everything. A "fuck it all" that wasn't quite a rousing battle cry but a subdued shrug.
|
|
| And Jane came by with a lock of your hair. |
[07 Aug 2009|01:39am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
oppressed by the figures |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Leonard Cohen- "The Partisan" |
] |
Today was the strangest day I've had in a long, long time.
A few observations.
- Leonard Cohen's "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye" (and, in particular, the live version from Field Commander Cohen) is a beautiful, beautiful song that can easily describe much of what is going on with me romantically these days.
- I'm smack dab in the middle of finals. So far I've aced all of them. Still two more to go. Nervous about tomorrow's because it involves watching many movies I haven't watched. I guess it'll be a long day of browsing IMDB pages.
- Work has been strangely, eerily quiet. It doesn't feel... right.
- My dad's wife left him today. Took the kids to her mom's house. Said she needed a break. My dad isn't sure he'll come back. Poor guy is of course crushed. Had a short conversation with him today and since my sister is still in Bogota he's feeling very alone back in Barranquilla. I wish I could do more for him. He's an awesome guy.
- There's this ridiculously strange feeling in the air. Sudden life changes surround me in the lives of people I know. One of my friends is breaking up with his girlfriend and moving to the mountains. Another is getting married. Another good friend is going to become a father and doesn't want anything to do with the kid. Another lost his job. It's like a TV show towards the end of its run, where the dramatic events are accelerated and on fast track and all the characters are clumsily provided closure by the writers. I feel like all of a sudden I'm going to be faced with a montage of all the characters in my life going on without me, and Green Day's "Time of Your Life" is going to start playing in the background. Eek.
- Elvis Costello's "Live at El Mocambo" is a live recording from a small club date back in 1977 and there's an audience member who is constantly screaming "YEEEEEE-HAWWW" before, after and during the songs. It's cheering me up immensely. It's strange. Who knows where this person and or whether he's even aware he's on the record. And if he is, did he ever imagine, 32 years later his hollering would be making a South American stranger giggle?
Strange, strange thursday.
|
|
| Someone took the words away. |
[01 Aug 2009|12:19pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
saturday nothingess |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
John Coltrane- "Blue Train" |
] |
I came home and fell asleep with the television on for the first time in a while. When I was a kid, I couldn't go to sleep without the TV on. It would always be on The Cartoon Network, Hannah Barbera cartoons from the 60s and 70s that would seep into my dreams from time to time. At first I thought it was a fear of the dark, but it became evident over time that I was actually scared of the silence. There was something unnerving about the quiet, the creeping stillness of the night. Like I needed some assurance that there was still a world going on outside while I was lying in bed by myself.
Later on I started listening to music to fall asleep. I had a playlist that I put together on my computer of sleep-music. I don't remember all that was in it but I know there was a lot of Sigur Ros, and I distinctly remember having a bizarre dream about The Flaming Lips' "All We Have is Now". I guess that's the reason why Wayne Coyne's voice makes me instantly sleepy. Ivan Pavlov, you clever bastard.
|
|
| Things I'm glad for |
[29 Jul 2009|09:16pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 such a lovable lass to meet |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Feist- "My Moon My Man" |
] |
|
|
| Happy fifth. |
[26 Jul 2009|11:03pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
back |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Fennesz- "Glide" |
] |
My livejournal turned five years old this month.
I don't know how I feel about that.
July was (I should say "has been", but it's already over in my head) the craziest month ever. Not only have I been up to my ass with schoolwork (I've had too many Coca-Cola-fueled all-nighters to count [yes, I'm back to my old ways]), but work has been ridiculously stressful as well. Most days where I have enough time to lazy around the house I'm too tired to really want to do anything other than... well... lazy around the house.
So there's a couple of things that are new. One of them is I am now an official columnist over at www.blog.com.co, a popular Colombian website aimed towards teenagers, people in their early 20s and man-children of older ages. My column is called "Cállate Jorge" ("Shut up, Jorge"-- named after the typical reaction of people exposed to my asinine ranting) and it's basically a weekly dose of asshole-ish loudmouthedness from yours truly-- the kind of thing that used to fill this Livejournal. Back when, you know, I updated semi-regularly.
My sister was here for a month. It was the strangest feeling in the world. She seemed so out of context. Having her interact with my friends was disconcerting and off-putting. It reminded me of that Seinfeld episode where George goes on about the George of two worlds, and worlds colliding? It was sort of like that. My life in Colombia is so far removed from my life in Buenos Aires in my psyche that any instance of them overlapping or even coming in contact with each other weirds me out to the extreme. The fact that she's quickly becoming close with my closest friends here is even stranger. But I'll get used to it.
It was fun, though, parading her around Buenos Aires, acting like I know my way around the city (which I don't. It's ridiculous. I've been here for nearly four years now and I still don't know shit) and taking her out to dinner and stuff. All of that, of course, means I spent more money in July than I ever intended to, but it's all good. This just means I'll be living a ridiculously austere lifestyle for the remainder of this month. But then again, it's the same most every month.
So I've been extremely busy. But it's a satisfying type of busy. The busy that leaves you overworked but feeling accomplished and strangely alive. I've been going out a lot. I've been getting drunk often. I've been dancing-- if what I do qualifies as "dancing". I would say it's more like shifting rhythmically left to right while standing in one spot. Bottom line is, life has been a wonderfully dissonant chaos of people and things and situations and drama and conflicts and girl trouble but it's all okay. I've stumbled onto somebody who makes me ridiculously happy. I've found my place in all the chaos. Right now, things are good.
God. This weekend went by ridiculously fast. I don't even feel like I slept enough, and you always feel cheated when the weekend is over and you didn't sleep enough. So I'm gonna go to bed now. But before that,
( July in pictures! )
|
|
| Man. |
[21 Jul 2009|04:54pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
big star |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Decemberists- "July, July" (not really but it should be) |
] |
July's been so weird.
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
