traveling swallowing dramamine

dobre den or something like that anyway

THE TRAVEL LOG
(transposed and abridged)

July 3, 2004 / 10:34am Prague - 3:34am NOLA

i would kill for a glass of water. not carbonated, this time.

slept so hard that i'm sort of exhausted. feel puffy. want water and to get my transit pass from Goddess Hana Z (who booked our room a day early for us) and find Bohemia Bagel to email everyone i've ever met.

must. take. shower.

had these totally bizarre and really aggressive dreams. one about mom--i don't remember why i was mad--but we were screaming, she had done something illegal--something with breast implants--the police had "vaporized" my car--she had not had implants, though--she was wearing a wig but had the same hair underneath--

i remember at some point getting a long, gangly, stuffed toy monkey and it was covered in blood and i thrust it under her skirt and then pulled it out and shook it at her face, as if saying, "remember, you gave birth to me"--or something, i'm not really sure what point i was trying to make. there was a lot of anger and bitter screaming. and i felt sort of orphaned.

ADVANCE was tied up in this too. oh holy shit i dreamt about dr. b___. i need to email her. she was so scary in my dream. she had legs made almost of metal--she was so skinny from being sick that she was literally skin and bone--her legs were skeleton legs but with skin. and then somehow i discovered that she had been walking around with platform shoes on--but, like, a foot high--because she was even shorter than she seemed--i was so scared of her, and she kept turning up.

the talent show--i was doing an act--a reading--with shan and wu--"sure thing," the scene i read with breton--and i was going to wear the tie again--but i couldn't find it--then i remembered i had borrowed it from maria--so i was gonna borrow one from brian s__ (my roommate in the dream)--then i got to the talent show and realized i didn't want to read the scene anyway because shan wasn't a good reader--had to run off copies of the scene--but they had copies already--but all the copies were different--finally watched the act before us go, and they were doing our scene, but not the way you're supposed to do it it--they had set it to music, like a show tune, and it was really bad.

ok. jeez. anyway. shower.

----------------

from an email to ben:

holy shit.

that is what i said when i just got off the metro with rikki.

last night we wandered around the dorm neighborhood to find a place to eat. the buildings look sort of old-school communism but with cuter roofs. we saw a coke sign on this building while we were on the bus back from the airport and rikki and i turned to each other and she said "goodbye lenin" and i was like "yeah." you should tell robbie that. and you should see Goodbye Lenin so you know what i'm talking about.

anyway, so the neighborhood by the dorm is pretty quiet--i mean, it looks like london or paris or any big european city but not very...i don't know, distinctive. big streets but not very crowded, couldn't find a whole lot of restaurants (but this was just a little walk)--anyway we ended up finding a pizza place, more on that later, but today i decided we would go on an adventure to find an internet cafe--it involved taking the metro three stops and walking through the old town square and possibly getting really lost. i wanted us to get out into the sunlight, because it's supposed to help jet-lag, and i wanted to get on the metro and walk around and just, you know, jump right in or whatever. i was feeling pretty confident (cocky, actually) about taking the metro since after nyc, london, and paris it's pretty old-hat by now. but i speak english, and i took six years of french, so subway signs in the other cities were not that hard to figure out. but i don't speak a fucking word of czech. and it's not like, you know, a romance language or anything, so it's not like i can find a familiar rootword. so we had a panicky moment, and then we weren't sure if we had to get our transit passes punched--and if so, how--once we got on the metro we were so golden.

we got off at the right stop, and we came out of the station, and i said "oh, holy shit" because ben. it's fucking incredible. we were right at the old town square--it's like you come up out of the street and there are these old fucking churches that look like castles and the buildings, just the storefronts, it's like--all i can think is it doesn't look real. it looks like a movie. or disney world, but all the shops don't sell the same mickey mouse keychain over and over and over again. i had written down the directions to the internet cafe (bohemia bagel) and we found it on the first try, because we're fucking ninjas. and we had a meal, a nice meal, i had sun-dried tomato and melted mozarella with pesto on a sunflower bagel--100 crowns (a little under four dollars). and now i'm on the internet. which is costing me more than i anticipated, i hope i can find a cheaper place to do this, because in the guide book it said it would be 1 crown per minute but it's actually 1.80. and yeah. god there's so much to tell you but it's like i don't know where to start...

...we took the bus from the airport--rikki's idea--i wanted to take a cab so we wouldn't have to deal with the luggage--but the cab fare would have been about 500 crowns (20 bucks), assuming we got an honest cab driver with whom we could communicate well enough to figure all that shit out--and the bus fare was 12 crowns (like, fifty cents)--and then a "five-minute" walk to the dorm--so we're debating, and i'm like, alright, let's do the bus, i'll feel like less of a pussy. so we manage to get bus tickets, and get on the bus with our shit--i was standing on the bus, staring desperately down at my suitcase, trying to figure out how the hell to get it on the bus, and this nice guy at the bus stop grabs the suitcase, sets it on the bus, and then hops off right as the doors close. my fucking hero. so then i'm remembering that you have to do something to the bus ticket, punch it or show it to the driver or something, as soon as you get on the bus, or they yell at you or fine you or something. and i'm like "rikki, what do we do?" and she's like "i don't know" so we're trying to figure it out, and the bus is going, and i'm feeling like an idiot, and finally this czech woman comes up to me and takes my ticket and pantomimes putting it in the yellow timestamper thingy. sort of rolling her eyes. i might be paranoid, but the people who have helped us out so far--the random locals who've dealt with our incompetence and inability to speak anything other than english--they've been really helpful but i keep feeling like they're rolling their eyes at me. it's either my usual paranoia or we really are stupid americans. i feel like a stupid american, anyway. they offer a "survival czech" language course as part of the program here, and i'm totally signing up. it's really frustrating not being able to say a damn thing. and people talk at you and all you can do is shake your head because it's totally unrecognizable.

anyway we get to our stop--which i figured out on my own, but the woman who helped us stamp our ticket told us as much, which was nice of her. and we manage to get off the bus with all of our shit--i somehow managed to throw my gigantic suitcase off of the bus. and then we walked to the dorm. which was really not far at all. it was a much shorter walk than i expected. and checked in, and our rooms are adorable, and we have a great fucking view. well, it's the fourth floor anyway, and we can see the street and the buildings across the way, and there are trees. the day is warmish and sunnyish and i'm wearing a cardigan. it was damn chilly last night. i figured out how to open the window--harder than it looks. the dorm is about five hundred times nicer than caddo. no top sheet on the bed--which made me think of you, isn't that silly--just a down comforter with a really ugly pink and purple pastel eighties-fied cover. it's three rooms to a suite, with a suite bathroom and a "kitchenette"--stove top and small fridge and cabinets and a table i think. after much fussing i got the adapter to work--and it works--we have music, which is fucking awesome.

i don't know. it's going really well. i took a shower. and brushed my teeth. and i've eaten twice. i feel like a human. after all that airplane bullshit. airplanes are so uncivilized. it's like you regress into childhood. they feed you prepackaged food and offer you "sweets" and you're strapped into a big chair and you can't move around. you sleep fitfully. i slept so hard last night in my bed that i'm sort of worn out. i had really aggressive dreams about my parents. one about my mom and one about my dad, which i'll tell you later if you're interested and i remember. i wrote them down. this email is getting ridiculously long and it's totally fragmented, i'm sorry, i'm sort of rushing.

is that it? no, but that's all for now i guess.

hradčanská

THE TRAVEL LOG
(transposed and abridged)

July 4, 2004 / 11pm

fuck me i'm tired.

woke up inadvertently at 6, couldn't fall asleep for three hours, finally fell asleep and had weird dream about matt and jake electrocuting themselves with musical instruments in the rain and dropping dead.

woke up exactly at 12:45pm, just in time for the orientation.

probably 4:1 female/male ratio. maybe more. maybe 10:1.

--------------------

July 5, 2004 / from an email to ben:

hradčanská --

which is the only thing i can pronounce in čeština. it happens to be the first metro stop (we're right at the end of the line). and i can say it. woohooooo.

language class starts tomorrow. i'm psyched.

it's about nine AM at home, i think. maybe it's 8. i'm not sure. it's about three here. i just ate thai for lunch with rikki, this girl danielle, and these three other girls from my class--lana, mandy, and julia. danielle is from tallahassee and is looking to move to new orleans--i was trying to think of something to tell her about new orleans, and said "well i don't live in the city proper, i live in metairie" and she said "oh, that's actually where i was going to move" and i was like, oh, well then. she was trying to get an editing job at a local magazine, and it didn't work out, but she teaches at a private high school in FL and i was like, you know, there are a ton of private catholic schools in new orleans and i think they're pretty much always looking for teachers, there's a real high turnover rate, and she was like "--did i mention i worked at a catholic school?"--and she hadn't--then she told me it was funny, because she was jewish, and the kids at her school have sort of a morbid curiosity about it--she'll be like "so let's look at this poem by langston hughes" and they're like "so do you speak hebrew?"

i also met this girl shannon, who's from...i don't remember where...but anyway, we all went out to dinner saturday and we were walking along downtown and she asked me about school and i was telling her about how i wanted to get an MFA but i was freaked out and pretty sure i wouldn't get in, blah blah blah, and she was like, "well, to tell you the truth--i applied to a bunch of programs and didn't get in." but what she did instead was what you want to do--she went to france and taught english--got a job through the french government--that's what she did last year, and she's doing it again this year, and she's going to get her masters over there, straight MA, in, like, english/french/arabic or something crazy like that. i told her that she should talk to you about it. anyway, she's really sweet.

there's this other woman named caroline who's from manhattan, she went out with us too, she's teaching at one of the CUNYs--hunter college--comp and creative writing--and she's never written a play in her life--but we workshopped her one-act today and it was really good--i mean, pretty obviously she doesn't have a lot of theatre background but her dialogue was fucking great. anyway i asked her at that dinner if she was in an MFA program, or what, and she told me she'd gotten hers at columbia--i was like "oh, fuck me, what'd you think" and she said that she only waited a couple of years to get it, but she wishes she had waited longer. and that it was really cutthroat competitive and she wasn't too crazy about it. and that's what i've heard from people who've gone to big-name schools. the yalies have said as much--femi and kristin sosnowszky (the managing director at swine palace, my former boss). so what the fuck. disregarding the whole will-i-even-ever-get-in part of the MFA bullshit, it sounds like the big-name programs are miserable experiences, but it's like, to get a decent job i'm afraid you have to worry about the reputation of your program. and what if quietly respected doesn't cut it? although it seems like it's getting more and more irrelevant at this point because--i don't know. i'm pretty much not going to get in. and even if i do get in, it's doubtful whether or not i'd be wasting my time going at this point. but what the hell else am i going to do.

anyway. my workshop teacher is cool--he works off-broadway, writing and directing, and he has his own theatre company, with a bunch of writers and actors and directors, and they do a lot of stuff sort of self-contained. and he's taught similar workshops at nyu and brown and wesleyan and somewhere else cool. he's shortish and slim and wears a lot of black and has dark hair that he wears long and in a ponytail. he looks more like a techie than a writer/director. he's goofy. his wife is sort of a bitch. but maybe it was jet-lag. anyway.

last night we had our "opening party"--they catered some crazy-ass food--i was most excited about the deviled eggs--this was no potato-salad-and-tony's affair--it was like, boiled egg cut in half, with the yolk in the middle, covered in this cream cheese that looked like whipped cream, and there was black caviar and a little tiny lemon wedge on top. it was crazy shit. free wine and beer. i had a glass and a half of red wine, which was lovely. wes kungel, who was in crone's class with me and rikki, is here, and we talked to him for a long time.

and then lana and this other girl tessa said they got a flyer that afternoon for this spanish guitar concert--flamenco or some shit--so a bunch of us semi-drunkenly wandered through the old town square looking for the place--and then by the time we found it it was sort of over--but there was "live jazz" at this hoity-toity touristy restaurant across the alley. white linen tableclothes on the patio. it was the kind of jazz you pretentiously snap your fingers to. very cool. patrick c___ would have called it "jass." it was crap. rikki and i were like, "this is crap." we cut out and wandered across the charles bridge. we stopped every five feet to peer over the edge. the view is fucking ridiculous. this whole place is ridiculous. it's so old. it's unbelievably old. and has this crazy history. but there you are, standing on these fucking cobblestones. it's insane. i was standing on that bridge, wine-drunkish, the kind of drunk that induces those open-mouthed kisses, aggressive with a lot of tongue, and i turned back to look at the old town square--i wanted you to be there. for many reasons. the wine and the view and yeah.

still not over the jet-lag. it's not that i'm so tired, it's that i can't fucking sleep. the first two nights we were here--rikki and i both woke up at 6AM, exactly, and couldn't fall back asleep for hours. i don't know what it is about 6 in the morning. it happened to wes too. part of it might be that the sun rises pretty early--i know in london it rose around 4:30. it doesn't set till 10ish. i was so pissed the first night in london, i was so tired but i told myself i had to wait until the sun went down to go to bed--figuring it would be at some normal time, 7 or 8, but it was 8 and the sun was shining bright and then it was 9 and then it was 10--it took till 10:30 for it to get really dark--i was irate. anyway, so last night we got in from the charles bridge adventure and i was going to write in my journal and read some more but i flopped down on my bed, fully dressed, and passed out. like, drooling snoring passed out. i woke up half an hour later and wrote and read and went to bed at 12:15ish and didn't fall asleep till probably 3:30. i was so pissed.

strictly metro

THE TRAVEL LOG
(transposed and abridged)

July 11, 2004 / 12:16pm

stosh just called--he and ian are down in the lobby and they want to get lunch--they're leaving on the midnight train. (to Budapest, not to Georgia.) (sorry.)

had a ton of weird dreams--i don't ever remember my dreams back home but here they've been so vivid--there was something about how i had a loose tooth--really loose--hanging by a thread, the way i'd let it get when i was a kid--and i kept pushing it with my tongue--i was freaked out by it, though--ben reassured me that he still lost his baby teeth--but i didn't have a permanent tooth behind this one--just a big gaping hole.

i dreamt a lot about ben--scary sad dreams--if he doesn't email me soon, man--this sucks. it's bad enough i can't afford to call him--

also dreamt about mom and dad--mom was mad at me because she felt like i was ignoring her--which i thought was unfair--someone had been driving a car through my house, through my bedroom, to get to the fridge, drinks in the fridge--they drove up on my bed and out the door--michael said they'd been doing it for ten years--dad offered to take me to Bud's and i told him i wasn't hungry but tomorrow? and he hesitated, we were in a parking lot, night, and there were other people pulling up, his friends, and he was like "i gotta go" and he thrust the contents of his wallet at me--credit cards, membership cards, coffee shop credits, gift certificates--and told me to buy some for myself and bring him back a napkin--and i wondered if he wanted the napkin as proof i'd gone to Bud's instead of using the money for something else.

------------------------

10:40pm

we went to that pizza place for lunch--came back, balanced checkbook, made out budget. have determined that for time reasons (and, to a lesser degree, money concerns) a trip to Budapest is impractical--it's a seven- or eight-hour train ride and we only have weekends. and next saturday we have a day trip to the bone cathedral.

so then we left stosh and ian on the metro--tried to tram it to this coffee shop rikki picked out of my Lonely Planet guide--tried to take the green line one stop to Hradčanská, then #18 to Národní Divadlo, but when we got off the metro it was pouring rain--crazy wind and freezing nastiness--i discovered that #18 no longer stopped at Hradčanská--that's been the difficulty with the tram system--first off, it's hard to tell on the map where the hell the stops are--and then, when you think you've got it figured out, you discover that the routes have all changed. so basically you wait and hop on and pray. it's very hit-or-miss.

so we took the metro two more stops, to Staromětská, and took #18 to Národní Divadlo, and walked in the nastiness down cobblestone alleys--found the address for the coffee shop--but the doors were locked, and there was no sign for a coffee shop--finally we just turned the corner, kept walking--found another coffee shop within the block, which fit the description, minus the name and address, of the shop we originally sought. the guy behind the counter was really funny and nice. and we stayed for a good four or five hours, reading, writing, talking--the place got pretty busy, although when we first got there we were the only ones--

anyway, it was exactly what i'd wanted in a coffee shop--cozy, funky, friendly guy behind the counter, and frequented by not-just-Americans-and-other-tourists. i was happy. it's pretty close to the school building, too.

so we were gonna try to catch the tram back to Hradčanská, thinking maybe we were at the wrong spot the first time. we got as far as Malostranská, and then the driver got up, briefly adjusted something in the back--i thought maybe we'd gotten to the end of the line, but no one got off--then, sure enough, the fucking tram turned around. we got off at Staromětská and took the metro back to Malostranská, hoping to eat dinner at this mediterranean cafe called Posha--but the prices were insane (seventeen bucks for an entrée--a pricey entrée here is about seven dollars). so we ended up going back to the dorm (strictly metro this time) and eating at the restaurant by the dorm--the titty bar--which is great but the service is even slower there than usual in Czech-land--like, it takes at least a half-hour to get your food--closer to forty-five minutes, sometimes--and rikki and i hadn't eaten since 1:30ish--it was 10 before we got our dinner--

we went to the convenience store next door afterwards, for a bottle of wine, which we purchased amid much hysterical laughter, because we couldn't read the labels--our purchase was based upon our mutual agreement that, as far as prices go, 60 crowns was a nice round number. but the store didn't sell cups or a corkscrew--we have a mug here, and i figured we could at least pass the bottle--and that the front desk of the dorm would have a corkscrew--which they did. the guy handed it to us, and we sort of tried to open the bottle and gave up, laughing, and the guy, also laughing, came out from the office and tried to open it, but it turns out the corkscrew was missing the, uh, screw part. so. no wine tonight. tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

got back to the room and put on PJs and dry socks. i'd had wet feet for eight hours. they went sorta numb at some point. it was really cold and blustery today.

while we were waiting for the tram (the one that would ultimately turn around on us), an elderly couple approached our bench. i stood up to let them sit, because that's a big deal here. the woman scooted over and patted the seat on her right and told the man to sit down--and then patted the seat to her left and gestured for me to smush in. so i sat, and their dog came sniffing up to me, and rikki and i started petting it and telling it how cute it was--which it was--and the woman pointed to the dog, and told me something in Czech--finally i figured out that she wanted me to shake hands with the dog--it raised a paw and we shook. it was the best thing ever.

surely this is significant.

i dreamt that i was babysitting for heidi, the chick who cuts my hair. her daughter was the size of a gerbil, and i lost her. so i went home. and heidi called me and asked where her daughter was, and i said "maybe she's with her dad." she asked for her money back.

i also dreamt that ben and i were in some kind of class taught by dr. beier, who was apparently mute. and our assignment for the day was that we had to reheat this frozen thai food. i guess it was thai food, i'm not sure. it involved broccoli and cheese, which isn't very thai. anyway, ben said he would take care of the broccoli and cheese. so he boiled the broccoli until it turned to mush, and the cheese was all melted with it, and the whole thing was wrapped in tin foil. and when i unwrapped it, the tin foil had melted into the cheese. and someone told me: not only had our tin foil melted into the cheese--it was sending a message to the moon.

i just don't think that it's right.

last night i dreamt that modest mouse was playing at voodoo. except voodoo was going on in this huge building and all the stages were in different rooms. they were crappy rooms, like conference rooms but run-down. kind of like the M&DA building.

i hadn't known modest mouse was going to play. i was sitting outside and i heard them through the windows. and i went inside and looked in all the rooms. finally i found them. they were doing a sound check, but they were letting the kids listen. there were metal folding chairs set out for us. and there were only two guys in the band, one on guitar and one over on the side playing piano. the guitar guy was dressed in a wooden suit that was painted to look like his bare chest.

after soundcheck was over, a bunch of kids came in and found seats and waited for the set to start. barrett was there, and he came over and sat in the empty chair next to mine. then the band made us scoot our chairs closer to the stage. i was in the first row, all the way to the side, and when i scooted forward, i couldn't really see the stage anymore, so i moved to a better spot.

after the performance was over, the band informed us on behalf of voodoofest that since they had gone over the practice SAT with us before the show started, we had to purchase two sets of SAT preparation material from the sponsors before we left the room. the SAT stuff was $19.95 each. they started handing out the SAT sets, and i told them that it was bullshit, that kids had come in early to find a seat and hear them play, that no one knew about the practice SAT stuff and they hadn't told us beforehand that if we stayed we'd have to buy anything. and that i was a senior in college, what would i want with practice SAT tests anyway. when they passed me the practice tests, i refused to take them. "what a racket," i said. "the ticket price of this all-day festival was forty bucks. and these practice tests are forty bucks. don't you see what they're trying to do?"

the modest mouse guys looked at this bitchy middle-aged woman who was apparently in charge. dismissively she said, "let her do what she wants. just wait till she goes to albertson's and tries to pick up her paycheck."

i was outraged.

how it always ends

okay, since people are evidently confused by this post: what follows did not actually happen, except in my head while i was sleeping.

mom and i have been fighting again.

she and michael are sitting on the sofa in the den--the sofas we don't use anymore. maybe she had given me the gift first, and then michael came in and sat down.

the gift is an apology. we have been fighting again.

the gift is a series of of wooden frames. they are large, rectangular wood frames the color of unfinished pine. each frame is actually a set of two parallel frames about two inches apart. threaded between the two frames is a mass of colored string--it's almost like a loom.

the knots in the string tell the story.

the knots take on shapes like faces and actions and in each frame i find them doing something hurtful. to me. i look at every one and the knots are forming patterns that i can't believe. the stories they tell. every one offends me. we have been fighting, and this is her apology. i am enraged. i throw them down on the coffee table.

how can you give this to me?
how can you think this will make it better?

she doesn't say anything, just looks at me.

this is a horrible present. i hate it.

she watches me, silent, impassive.

i pick up one of the frames to show her. i tell her what the knots say.

she looks at me with flat eyes.

holding the frame, i point out the story. but now the knots are just knots. there's no story. no faces, no actions, no shapes at all. just knots in staggered rows.

she and michael exchange amused glances.

i ask her why she doesn't give a shit about me.

with her flat eyes.

then i beat the frame over the end table. i smash the wood down. this is a gift she made with her own hands. each frame, painstaking, woven, knotted. i want to hit her. i pick up a heavy vase, maybe it is metal or maybe glass. i almost hit her and instead i put it down. there is a little bit of water in the bottom of the vase.

i apologize for breaking the frame.

she picks it up eagerly, to see if she can salvage it.

meanwhile i am standing there, feeling insane.

dinner at sunray

mom says how her best friend called furious two weeks ago
i said why was she mad
and it was because she didn’t know that mom’s boyfriend had been living at our house for the six months after the hurricane
she said: i think she’s a little jealous of my relationship with him
my jaw hit the table
i said: or it's because you lied to her.
she said just because i left something out doesn’t mean i’m lying. i don't consider that a lie.
i said it’s a lie of omission
i said she’s hurt because she’s supposed to be your best friend and you left out a huge part of your life
she said well i don’t tell her anything because i don’t think it’s any of her business and she doesn’t have a right to know
i said and this is why your brothers and sisters are hurt, that you leave them out of your life, that you cut out large swaths of your life and don’t talk about them at all
this is why they don’t take you seriously, because they know you’re lying, they know they’re never getting the full picture
this is why people are hurt
this is why people don’t believe anything you say
because there’s a kernel of truth
(they will judge me)
and then the rest of it is you don’t want to tell anyone because you don’t trust them
not because they don’t deserve your trust
but because of your own issues
not because your best friend is jealous
but because you shut her out.

so the issue becomes you’re just not friends anymore.
unfortunately it’s not so simple with your blood.

michael was there for it, this time, and this time i wasn’t the crazy one.
i wasn’t the crazy one because this time i was able to keep my voice under control. i don’t know what the difference was. maybe because it’s shit we’ve been over before, or maybe because of marcia. but this is the first time i’ve really had a handle on myself.
it’s also the first time i’ve seen how it affects all of her relationships, and how plainly and totally she denies what’s actually going on. to say that her friend was angry because she was jealous. and mom said she didn’t see what this, or the stuff with her siblings, had to do with what’s going on between me and her.
michael broke in and said: mom, it’s exactly parallel.

we talked it around
the busboy cleared the table 
the waitress asked coffee or dessert
the busboy refilled the water glasses
the waitress brought the check

i corrected her: it wasn’t just the fact of the relationship that was denied. even when he was living in the house we were expected to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary was going on, even when he was sleeping in the living room, in the most public room in the house, and we were literally tiptoeing around him, and you didn’t acknowledge that maybe we were put out a little or that it might have been hard

she said: you weren’t even there.
i said: i was there more than michael was, michael was in natchitoches

she said: i said thank you a million times

i leaned forward: you said thank you once. and it was when we had that fight about me sleeping in the house without you there, how you didn’t want me to because it would make him uncomfortable, and then you changed your mind because you knew it would upset him if he knew you’d told me not to.

only now am i remembering that while all that was going on, she was still denying that they were even in a relationship. he was living in the house and she was pretending he wasn’t living in the house and they weren’t in a relationship.

we talked it around, the same things i’ve said a hundred times a hundred ways, you think she gets it and then she drops another one on you worse than the one before, and you realize she’s not with you, she’s coming from some other planet,

i dreamt last night that she met clark from highland and they were going on a date, it was fine fine fine and then she said she was going to sleep over at his house and i lost my mind, it was in front of everyone, the whole family, i was the crazy one, they were laughing at me, she had a new name: tara: and i was yelling my head off she stopped me she said i have to tell you something
i said just say it say it
she said i have cancer. every kind that they thought i might get, i have every kind of cancer, aunt kay will take care of it, she’ll clean it all up,

i felt the back of my neck go hot
the bottom falling out of my stomach
real-time, the visceral response to a nightmare, i knew i was dreaming and woke myself up

except it wasn’t a nightmare. that conversation happened. it all happened exactly like that.

i realized when i woke up that what we’ve been talking about as anger: why can’t you just let it go, i mean i said i’m sorry, how long does this have to go on, why can’t you get over it
and i say i’m hurt, i’m angry, i’m resentful
what i really am is scared.
i don’t want to be in the house, i don’t want to deal with it, i don’t want to talk to her because i don’t know what to expect. i don’t know the next thing that’s going to come out of her mouth, and you think it can’t get worse and then it gets so much worse.

she kept saying crying i feel like you’re punishing me, i feel like you’re punishing me way more than what i did to you, i feel like this is abusive, i feel like you’re abusing me

and today when i woke up is when i remembered
that’s what i said, not to her,
never to her, i can never say it to her
but what she said that sunday, what she did,
it was punishing. it was abusive.

and how far down deep that accusation goes.

this dream i had

i dreamt you and k and i had gone somewhere and i had to leave in a hurry but we had made a mess with clothes and papers all over the floor and it all needed to be picked up before everyone left and i could have left it for the two of you to do but i was afraid it wouldn't get done right and things would get lost so i started to do it myself and

we were in the car you were driving and i was in a hurry to get where i needed to be but you wouldn't drive right or something because i said something to you about it and you stopped in front of someone's house and said i could drive myself then and i said no dad wait and i stopped and said why am i calling you dad now? and neither one of us knew but it was because you were in fact my dad and we were in your 4runner and you got out and left me alone in the car even though i kept calling after you and pleading with you to stay and i watched your back through the windshield as you walked away

i didn't know how to get to the interstate so i went inside the house and my family was there i asked my aunt pattie for directions to the interstate and she told me take a right onto jefferson highway and make a u-turn and then take a left at the box at the end of the tunnel i was writing it down on a sheet of paper and then what but she wouldn't tell me anything else as if she had run out of steam or something i repeated the directions back to her "make a u-turn on jefferson highway and head left, take a left at the box....then..." but she wouldn't tell me anymore so i asked someone else like my grandma or my aunt shannon but it was always the same they wouldn't respond and i couldn't find the piece of paper i'd written the directions on so i got another one and i couldn't remember if i was supposed to turn right or left at the box by the tunnel but no one would help me i asked the whole room please someone please give me directions but no one would listen or respond

so i put my shoes on which were your gray slippers you just bought from walmart and got into the 4runner which i was afraid to drive because it's big and awkward but i drove it anyway down the street which looked different than it did from the window of the house but i recognized the fence and was pretty sure i was going in the right direction and i figured i would get where i needed to get eventually even if i had to stop at a gas station and buy a fucking map and my uncle craig was on the street with twenty or twentyfive small brown dogs running in a pack i drove slow to let them scatter but i was afraid i was going to run over some kid's puppy

.

christmas eve eve at your dad's house we were talking about nicknames and you said how the kids at your high school called you mister, even your coach math teacher, and you turned to your dad and laughed in that earnest way you sometimes have, and you said, in one breathless breath, how you never really told him about what was going on at high school when it was happening but here's what it was like: you had a coach for a math teacher who called you mister and gave you a hard time because when you used your regular words he thought you were trying to use big words to make him feel stupid.

i watched this earnest disclosure to your dad and watched as his face changed not at all and he said nothing and walked into the kitchen and i think your dad is very adorable and sweet but at that moment i wanted to throw something at him.

.

when my dad came home from work he did not greet us. he would walk into the den, where michael and i were watching saved by the bell, and he would sit down at his chair and say nothing and change the channel.

my mom had to instruct me in how to say hello to people when i arrived places and how to say goodbye when i left. i used to just walk into my grandma's house and sit down and start reading without acknowledging anyone. my family found this rude and perplexing but i didn't know any better.

my dad sat in his chair after work and i would go up to him sometimes to ask him a question, maybe he was reading the paper or an airplane magazine, or maybe he was watching TV, and i would say dad. and he in his blinding white work shirt said nothing, kept reading. i would say dad. dad. dad. dad. dad. dad. dad. dad. dad. dad. and he was still as a stone.

i could do it too. my brother would try to talk to me when i was reading and i could tune everything out so hard that i didn't hear at all.

.

it's the way you feel foolish when you're left hanging.

like when you call your dad for the fifth time to see about giving him his christmas presents and also to tell him a funny story that made you think of him and you tell him the story and he says nothing and you say, awkward, wasn't that funny and he says in his fakest fake voice yeah that's a good one and you say well i'll be in town tomorrow can i give you your presents and he says he doesn't want them.

.

when you don't acknowledge me, i feel foolish, ignored, and abandoned.

it's every fight we have, it's when i ask you to come have a drink and you respond indirectly, when we make plans and they fall through and you don't say anything to acknowledge that we had plans in the first place, when i show you something i made and you don't look at it and you don't say anything. it's when i say i'm disappointed because i wanted to do something and didn't get to do it and you tell me it doesn't matter.

it's the reason i'm afraid to say things directly, why i feel stupid when i talk to you, why i stop stories in the middle if you turn on the TV or go into the kitchen. for you not to listen to a story or acknowledge a request is for me not to exist. it makes me feel small and irrelevant. i have felt small and irrelevant for such a long time and it has been a long arduous process for me to realize that what i want and need are worth expressing. it is terrifying for me to tell you how i feel, and when you are unresponsive i feel diminished.

i went down so deep

i had a dream maybe friday night
about a lot of stuff that i don't remember
but at one point i was at some kind of park
with one of those rides that drops you straight down
i don't ride those because i hate the feeling in my stomach
anyway i was watching the ride which was over some water
and then i was standing on a ledge
you were with me
over this blue blue water
it was clear and sparkly and the sun was bright
the ledge was high and we were talking about jumping
this is not something i would ever do
and i thought how my stomach would drop but that feeling would pass quickly
i looked down at the water and we were high but not that high
so i stepped off the ledge and it was scary
but i kept my chin up and squinted into the sunlight
i was smiling

when i hit the water i went down so deep i was afraid
about needing to breathe
but i didn't panic
i kept kicking to the surface

in my dreams i am building a muscle

i dreamt i was at the mall and went to the car shop, which was a little store in the mall, and these two young guys were working. i decided to buy a red muscle car* and i signed the form and everything. then i looked at my monthly car note and it was going to be over 1200 dollars every month. i panicked and told the guys i changed my mind and i didn't want the car. they made fake apologetic faces and said oh well the car value has depreciated already so you can't just have your money back. and i said no way, the car value doesn't depreciate until you drive off the lot, and i haven't even touched the car yet. instead maybe i will get a new honda or something that doesn't cost three times my rent every month and i could use it for grad school.

they said you can't return the car, it's policy
i said show me the paperwork

one guy pulled out a sign that said no returns
i took it from him and on the back it said amps on sale, $18, no returns on sale items

i told him that's only for amps. that's totally different.

and they sighed like they were caught, and they let me return the car, and then they gave me a ride home in the car. it was low-slung and absolutely quiet inside. we took the interstate west towards the bonnabel exit.

*credit jane magazine

sorted

8/14/04 to matt:

dude i had a horrible dream about you last night.

you ran up to me along the train tracks on nicholson, panting, and you said "hey you didn't call me." and i said sorry. and you told me how you had been playing this arcade game, and then you put the arcade game on the RR tracks so that the train would hit it and you would get a bunch of quarters, and i said "oh matt, that's so dangerous, you might derail the train" and then you showed me the train, which was on its side in the ditch, and i started running through the tall grass and then i tripped over something and it was a body, a dead person, and then i saw the train on its side and all the dead people, and i woke up scared. it was the kind of dream you want to wake up the person next to you in bed for, so you can tell them and they can make you not scared anymore. but there was no one in bed with me. because i got dumped last friday. !.

call me when you're in town

lovelovelove.

---

8/17/04 to breton:

miss b______

your blog does not allow anonymous (ie, non-blogspot user) comments. you should remedy this, so i can comment on your blog. and i added you to my list. it says (i think) "breton in french."
!.

i got everything out of the [goddamn] apartment. and dropped off our keys, and left the new address. and micah picked up the chair and pipe on sunday. i flipped off each room as i cleared it out. it was tedious and i was tired and sweaty, but it's all done. when i got in my car with the last load, i got sad all of a sudden. moving all of your shit is kind of a weird experience. it's like, you accumulate all this stuff, and put it in a special order, and then you tear it all down and it's like saying goodbye to something, your life as you've arranged it, and then you start over, again. and again. i counted the other day: i've moved once a year for the past six years (not counting moving back home and moving back up for school). you, then, have moved once a year for the past five years. isn't that nuts?

so now all of my crap, which is some weird snowballing accumlation extension of myself, is in this new house. in many, many boxes. the cox guy came and futzed with the computer for like an hour this morning. i think i accidentally fried the router. oops. you have the adapter for the modem, which i should get from you when i come in town. i have your nokia adapter (i'm assuming that it's yours), a billing statment (i assume) from campus federal for you, and your jumanji game. and your crispy breton sign from your door--don't know if you want it, but i took it anyway, because i couldn't bear to leave it.

oh, what should i do when the electric bill for the past month comes in? you'll probably be gone by then. should i just call your parents?

wanna hear something funny?

the floor in my room is really uneven, it slants from the front window down to the bedroom door, and my computer is in the corner by the window, and i'm in my rolly chair, and i keep accidentally rolling away from the desk. it's kind of annoying. it's kind of fun if i do it on purpose though.

ok. i guess that's it for now. i'm going to call you in a little while, i think. i have to make my hair appointment first. that's what determines when i'm coming in town. yes, i plan my life around my hair. ....

lovelovelove and i miss you already
--ann

chocolate enzyme drink

i dreamt that mom asked me if i could go to the mall and pick up a chocolate enzyme drink that she needed. i didn't want to do it, because it was way out of my way to go to the mall. it seemed equally inconvenient for both of us to run the errand. but i felt obligated to do it because she was my mother. but then she told me something else, and i said, dead serious, "you can't tell me what to do." she got a look on her face and i told her quickly that i loved her.

so then i had to go to the mall to get the chocolate enzyme drink. somewhere on the way to the mall, a girl picked me up in her car. she had brown hair, light brown skin, a nice face, and she was wearing a full set of scrubs. she told me i had to go to the hospital - because i had a kidney infection, maybe. i'm not sure why i had to go. i asked her if i would go home that night, and she said no no, we'll have to see if you can take solid foods on saturday.* (it was wednesday in the dream.) and i thought about three days in the hospital, fasting.** i thought about how hungry i was already, and also that three days on an IV would make it easy to cut calories for the week.

but then i realized that saturday was the day i was supposed to go to natchitoches with brett to visit michael. i asked the girl if i would go home saturday, then, and she said "maybe but it's not likely." i cried and told her that i was supposed to go to natchitoches and it was the only chance i had to visit my brother before he graduated. also i needed to go to the mall immediately to get the chocolate enzyme drink for my mom, for her health. but it was too late, i had to go to the hospital. and i was going to let everyone down. i cried and she was really nice to me, really sympathetic, and all i could think was this was my own fault for procrastinating.

i was on my way to the hospital and i wanted to call brett. but i decided to wait, since i didn't really know what was happening yet. at some point josh called me, and his name came up not as his full name, like it does on my phone, but the way it comes up on brett's phone: ₤josh. i went to answer it and the phone unflipped itself.

maybe earlier, brett gave me a stack of small white papers, he said they were song lyrics. he was giving them to me so i could read them. he acted like it was no big deal.

then i was in a car or around a table with a family, or a group of middle-aged people, and rikki. the gray-haired roundish woman was asking me, with a kind judgmental face, about my religious convictions. i explained to the group about tenth grade and how i stopped believing but then made another attempt to be a christian (as opposed to other religions, i explained) when i was a sophomore in college - how i went to a great episcopalian church on campus, the priest was smart and funny and a little bit sarcastic (they nodded, they knew how i appreciated sarcasm), i went to church on sundays and sang in the choir and went to the wednesday night bible study, which was really not a bible study but a discussion group. at this point no one was listening but i kept talking. how the kids were all top-notch people. how i grew up catholic and i wanted to try again because i liked the way the words felt in my mouth. some people nodded. the gray-haired woman looked at me sharp when i said the part about not being able to believe that jesus christ was the risen son of god. and how i decided, after my kierkegaard class, that i couldn't know for sure if god existed - you can't know for sure, that's the whole thing about faith - but the way my personality is, i need reason, i need rational thought - i took that "spiritual gifts" test at st. alban's and it said my spiritual gift was knowledge - rikki broke in and said, with a strange smug look on her face, that mary was obviously special and so was the virgin birth. i said we knew that about as well as we knew anything else about jesus and the holy family - i.e., not much for sure. and why couldn't they have been just a normal family. but my argument seemed to be floundering at this point.

so i took the car to the shop at the end of the street. just the body of the car, not the wheels or the engine or even the bottom. i was standing inside of the car, hands on the interior roof, holding it above my head, looking through the windshield, walking down the street. it was unwieldy of course. the shop was blue and on the left. i overshot and had to turn around - an awkward maneuver. i thought about the flintstones. i told the guy at the shop, who seemed to be laughing at me, that i would bring the chassis later. i still needed to go to the hospital. when i woke up, it took me a full minute to realize that i didn't need to call in sick.

* credit kaylen's appendicitis
** credit yesterday's NYT article on colonoscopies

in which my ex-boyfriend and your ex-girlfriend pay a visit

dream / 6:45am

i open the door to the chimes and collide with b__, who is on his way out. he is wearing a blue satin shirt, a black corduroy vest, and black pants. we hug awkwardly and i think what's with the outfit. he comments on my pants, which are corduroy, like his vest. he tells me my pants are corduroy, like his vest, and explains what corduroy is. i know this already. of course.

then we are in bed, spooning, and it feels normal and not-normal. it is now and we have been broken up for a long time and i make a couple off-handed under-handed comments. spiteful, vindictive, automatic, and it always hits, it always catches him off-guard. which is how these things usually go.

.

dream / 7:45pm

we're at my apartment and i am unpacking groceries. a bunch of bananas have been ripening unevenly on my counter: one banana is both green and spotted. i pull out three more bunches of bananas from the grocery bag. we have a lot of bananas. brett says, "that's a lot of bananas." way too many. i am thinking i will have to freeze some to make banana bread or something. brett says that k___ has a recipe for banana cookies. i think how i'd rather just look up a recipe for banana cookies myself instead of trying to make her version. what if mine don't turn out as good and he likes hers better. maybe i say it aloud, the part about preferring to look up a recipe. maybe not. it doesn't matter because she immediately walks through the door. she has come to town but doesn't have a place to stay. she looks and talks like j__ g__ and is about as incoherent. brett tells her to make sure she parked her car in 'the zone' or else she's going to get towed. he doesn't say anything about letting her stay over, and it doesn't seem like he wants her to. meanwhile i am trying to do something with the oven, which is the size of a dishwasher. the oven door is off its track, folds out like an accordion, is separated from its hinges. k___ is saying how she made her banana cookies in something like an EZ-bake oven. i'm struggling with the oven door. the oven is hot and i am hot. k___ is rambling. brett says something slightly condescending to me and i tell him to leave. i'm not very angry but i don't want him to talk to me that way in front of k___. he is surprised and annoyed and i tell him he can come back in twenty minutes when he cools off and won't talk to me that way anymore. the oven is hot, the door is falling off, i wake up to brett walking up the stairs, i am burning up.

feed you to the yak

i dreamt that jonna was teaching class in a different studio and my new dance clothes came in, but the leotard that was supposed to be 'plum' colored was red and encrusted with some sort of fake red jewel things. she said she liked it but i thought it was lumpy looking and the wrong color.

then we were downtown in new orleans, walking through a cemetery and then going into the superdome parking garage, where there were two groups of people and then a man talking about what to do if someone put his finger over a gun and fired a warning shot. i was going to ask a question but jonna covered me and put my head down and then the guy ended up being some crazy guy with a gun. and i thought oh that's why he split us into two groups. but then some other guys in khaki coats came and i ran down the stairs so fast it was like jumping down. and i met up with jonna in the cemetery and we passed by a red truck, and she looked in it and said wistfully that she had a 'nice foot' for driving a truck. then we got in her car and i checked to make sure i had my bookbag, and i did.

but then i discovered at robbie's house that i only had one of my flipflops on. i couldn't figure out how i didn't notice earlier. and fred was missing. karen thought she saw him in the french quarter, all dirty and kind of teal-colored, but it was a different cat - actually it looked like a dog with a long body, but not a dachshund. its fur was medium long for a dog, and its tail was stubby and a little curled. then robbie or ben told me that they'd found one of my flipflops a block from robbie's house, and my tote bag (i didn't even remember bringing a tote bag) soaking wet a few blocks before that. and then they found fred too.

teeth dream

some four-story building, oh it must have been the library, because i kept going to the basement. and there was some event going on, and the dentist was coming or the orthodontist, who i said would be very old but he was in his late thirties or something with a blond beard. he was nice and i wasn't wearing pants. he said he was going to take off the band around one of my molars, he asked me what i thought about how my teeth were orienting. i didn't have braces, just bands around several of my molars, the way the metal cuts into your gums and tongue, and i had one bracket on my first molar on the upper-right-hand side that was facing in instead of out. i had no opinion of how my teeth were orienting. there was something about horses, they were in the building and the fire alarm was going off in another room,  and i wondered if i should go get the horse but thought maybe it was a trick or test to see if the women would be so stupid and sentimental as to save a stale horse in the middle of a fire. the elevator sped up so fast that i would fall over, even just going down one floor. there was a boy and i lost a CD case and couldn't find it even though i looked and looked.

dog sledding

i was in chicago with michael and i took him to a bar. eventually the bartender, who had gauges in his ears, figured out he was 18 and this was a problem. then we left and came back and mom was on the other side of the bar but the bartender told me that since michael was 18 we had to leave. i told him my mom was there but he didn't care. the letters JP, PJ, and some other forwards-backwards combinations were written above the bar. somehow i figured out that the bartender was going to patronize me until i insulted him. like it was expected for me to insult him. and somehow the letters were supposed to be a guide. i called him "john's penis" for JP. but my heart wasn't in it. he had lime wedges twisted through the holes in his ears. finally i told him he was a jerkoff for acting like it was a big deal that my 18 year old brother was in the bar, especially since his legal fucking guardian was there, and i was 21, i mean 23. i stormed off but kept thinking of other stuff to say, which is what always happens when i try to tell people off.

then i was dog sledding with my dad and my brother. or we were setting up to go. my dad was going to sled with his younger brother, my uncle danny, and then i was going to sled with michael, and that was fine with me. the sled rig was in what looked like a giant metal lunchbox, and you pulled a plug or something, and it went off like a little smoke bomb - uncle danny was standing behind one and it squirted smoke in squiggles on his sweater. he stepped aside. then we had dogs and a sled. the dogs didn't do much. i was trying to figure out where to put my laptop - it was in a big foam-insulated case but i still didn't want it to slide along the snow. my dad acted like it was stupid of me to put the laptop on top of the first box of the sled. he said maybe i should use a regular notebook. there was yellow in a row all where the dogs had been standing and i realized it was because they peed.

we went to barnes and noble to find a notebook, since i needed a new journal anyway. but i couldn't find the journals anywhere. my dad and brother and i were standing by the magazines and my dad was saying for example if there was a magazine with a cover from the movie "tootsie" with dustin hoffman...and i looked and there was one on the bottom row. and my dad laughed so hard he cried, but it wasn't actually funny. i didn't know why he was laughing so hard.

then becca and breton were with me and we were looking for the journals but found these ugly lime green sweaters with machine embroidery in red and orange and blue around the chest, and these words: "feel my chest, feel the pain!" and we thought this was really tacky, but then i was holding one all the way to the cash register, and i was annoyed that i was carrying it because i didn't want to buy it.

we ended up trying to go thrifting with michael but he had to be back at lsmsa for curfew, and it was 11:59. obviously we couldn't go thrifting so late but breton said that "simple" something, i forget the second half of the store name, was open late on magazine street. but i said we couldn't have michael in new orleans because he was going to miss curfew. he looked worried but acted like it was no big deal. i couldn't remember if curfew was 12 or 2. he said, "i don't know, they just said i needed to be in early" - because he had been in trouble or something. so we're getting ready to take him back and there's a knock on the door and my phone is ringing - it's my dad - but his name comes up "steddy lee" in my phone and i can't remember when i changed it.

long distance drunk

just woke up three minutes ago (again, the bells - actually woke up an hour ago, again, the bells)

so the dream between bells was that brett was coming to visit me in natchitoches. i was either a student or a counselor - i definitely felt older than everyone there and like whatever high school rules didn't apply to me.

i don't remember much about the specific visit - we were happy to be together - he mentioned something about being nervous with his new phone, his dad said to be careful -

i was taking too long with something and we were trying to get to a dance performance, and brett was saying it's 640 now, like we were already missing it, and called a friend to get a recommendation on a good band in a nearby town.

michael s____ was there - he sent me an IM and his screen name was "writer" - i had no idea who he was and had to ask meghan h_____ - she said it was daniel and michael. the message was "oh shit, we should go get drinks." also i was talking to amy d______ about grad school and med school in a bathroom with no toilet paper.

anyway so michael s_____ shows up and i had a recipe for something and he was showing me how to make it, even though i already knew how, and i was the one who had written down the recipe. he was putting too much of everything, garlic, handfuls of salt, some kind of orange indian spice mix - which was supposed to be cayenne - he pointed out that i had written "1/2 c" but not of what. i was annoyed. i knew how to cook this already. he told me he'd gotten an alzheimer's emmy for "directions" (a screenplay he'd written?) - but surely i knew that already. i said no i didn't know you got an emmy. he said not an emmy - a memory emmy. when he lit the pilot light on the stove it went up huge. he was asking me for a certain towel and there were piles of towels on the counter and i kept handing him the wrong one.

so when brett and i parted ways the night before, we talked about when we'd talk again. but when i woke up i realized that he was leaving that day and i didn't know what time. and i'd slept late. i went to the boys' dorm and called down michael (my brother), and he was sitting in the computer lab downstairs. he said brett already left - but he had lost his phone before he had to leave - and his dad had said be especially careful with the card - and now it was gone. so not only was brett gone but now he had no phone so i would never get to talk to him. i started looking for the phone behind the computer table. probably brett had just walked behind the table and looked, but not very hard. but michael said "brett already looked there with a flashlight."

i end up making another announcement for people to check their cellphones and make sure they didn't pick up the wrong one - a girl said she knew where it was - she asked what brett's roommate name was - i said josh and she nodded - she said this other girl had it. i asked maanasa, whose name in the dream was amanda, which other girl it was and she showed me. so the girl who had the phone was telling me yeah she got brett's phone after she and this other girl had sex with him. (she went into bizarre graphic detail. actually i think it was all printed on a piece of paper). i was just like, whatever, kid, where's the phone. she runs outside and i follow her, about to strangle her, and i say if you make me chase you, when i catch you i'm gonna hurt you.

i grab her and she points to yet another girl on the lawn, who says she found the phone in the grass. we see one piece, and another piece, and another piece. the pieces screw together. there are two giant tractor lawnmowers on either side of us and the bottom piece of the phone is missing. wait stop we scream to the lawnmowers. we find the bottom piece, which is the charger base. we also find something else which could have been part of the phone but wasn't. the phone is the size of a cordless house phone. i am proud that i found the phone but now i have to figure out how i can get it to brett. i ask michael how long ago he left - 715. in the morning. which was twelve hours ago. he's so far away. i will have to mail him the phone and as long as it takes is how long we can't talk to each other.

when i wake up from the bells, i spend a minute wondering why we hadn't just slept in the same bed. but i think it must have been because i was technically with whatever program was going on, school or camp, and even though i was allowed to come in at midnight, after roomcheck, i had a younger roommate who would have been uncomfortable with a boy in my bed. then i remember it was a dream.

enganchado, monumentum

Barrett: i have your winter clothes dilemma except w/ food
ann: winter food?
Barrett: morning food
ann: you hate morning food?
Barrett: my attention span is much too short for winter something
i hate finding it
ann: finding it?
i'm sorry i am low on protein and high on caffeine
boiling an egg as we speak

.

brett: ok
well tell me something nice
i love you
anita
hulloo
ann: hang on
brett: k
ann: i had to explain to cecile was i was weeping and snotting
minus the part about her trying to talk to me
brett: ha
not ha
but you know
ann: yeah ha
brett: bc your stupid bf
ann: well the longer explanation was about my blood sugar
brett: o
ann: she had asked me why i was eating an egg
brett: oh god
ann: but this is before i had eaten it you know
so i was still in oh my god don't talk to me mode
brett: 'whatch doooin?'
ann: and i'm like ITS A SNACK
brett: ahaha
ann: and also this is me trying to write and she's like chatting
anyway that post is not gonna happen
the thing about the writing is that both the writing mood and the mood i'm trying to capture by writing about it
is so fragile
it's kind of like trying to remember your dreams
brett: i understand fo sho
ann: god i meant to write down a dream this morning

.

i was with dad looking at my cd case with him, it felt good to be with him, we were talking about music and pop culture maybe, i pulled out a stack of seventeen magazines (old ones) to show him music references

before that i was at a desk on a stage, the aud, and the desk was covered in magazines with pictures of naked people, someone was coming up to me and i felt like i needed to hide the magazines, which was annoying, because i think i had just happened upon the desk, it wasn't actually mine

then leicester announced that he was donating seventy-two million dollars (which in the dream broke down to twelve million every year for five years) to some cause, and he was nervous and excited about it, and i was telling him how great it was and how the money was really needed, speaking from my experience as a grant writer, it was performing arts related

after my dad i was at a house party and this guy made a drink for me, he seemed nice and cute but then i got so woozy from the drink that i wasn't sure if i was drunk or he had put something in the drink

i started flipping through the seventeens trying to find information on the symptoms of date rape drugs

earlier there was something about overripe bruised peaches

.

my dreams here wake me up more often than not.

una manzana podrida pudre todo el cajón

i've been saving up a post about things that have made me really happy, but every time i go to write it, something kills my buzz. it is always the same thing. it is the fucking shit with my apartment.

-- i want an oven, but i don't know how to get pablo to honor the agreement in the lease about replacing shit that broke because it's old. the guy down the street at the electrodomestico store was like, yeah it's definitely not your fault, it's definitely "the passing of time." but he won't write a note for us because he doesn't actually fix hornos. and i don't know if the "repair and deduct" thing is legal here. so even if i am like, "look, here is verification that it broke because it's old, and it says in the lease that you will fix shit that broke because it's old," i still feel like i have no fucking leverage.

-- it's hard to negotiate with pablo because he is pissed / passive-aggressive about how our rent is usually late because alicia is retarded and isn't here to pay it.

-- alicia is retarded. i actually just now had a dream where she had come back and she looked so strung out (like in the junky sense - i looked at her veins) that i felt really sorry for her and gave her a huge hug. also in the dream, lisa was caroline b. - blonde and everything. i was looking at old pictures of us in the piso.

-- i am so fucking tired of worrying at the end of every month if alicia is gonna show up and if cristian is gonna stay. and then if cristian stays this month, will he stay next month? what if he leaves in april and we have to find someone (assuming alicia doesn't come back) for like the last two months of the lease?

-- i don't know what's going on with the telefonica bill, which is sent here, in alicia's name. it includes an apartment landline i don't pay for, the wifi, and alicia's móvil charges. originally she told us that when the bill came we had to give her money on the spot, because it was directly withdrawn from her bank account. now she says that it isn't. i'm afraid the internet is going to get cut off (because i have no idea if she is paying it and when cecile asked if we should send her money, she was like, "oh, give the bill to cristian, he'll take care of it" - but he thought she was coming back, so he didn't send her the bill....) - and if the internet gets cut off, it will take god knows how long for it to be reconnected. and that will be suck city.

-- alicia doesn't want to pay any of the bill for dec/jan (even though cristian already paid her share). so it's that old fight again. the one i had said i felt "literally a weight off my chest" about. i should mention that this bill was exceptionally large. cecile finally came up with "i'll pay for the one month she said she wouldn't be here, but not the rest" - which is a compromise i'm willing to go with.

what i'm not willing to do, however, is repay cristian for alicia's part and then have alicia pay me back. not because of cristian, but because in the entire time we've lived here, alicia has never repaid me for anything. she'll say "yeah either me or cristian will pay you back" and even if i ask her every day, she won't give me money. "oh tomorrow, i'll put it on the table." once it was because they wanted to buy beer, once for cover at a bar for cristian when we were out. once it was because cristian didn't have enough money for the bus to málaga. once it was because she didn't have change for when i paid my part of the telefonica bill. that one really gets me. when we were attempting to share groceries, she was the only one who never put in to the grocery money box; meanwhile i continued to buy butter and oil for the apartment every week (which i resented both for the money and for the fact that i had to keep making the mercadona trip). she'd say she was going to the store, and wouldn't. then when she bought laundry detergent, she demanded i give her money for it. i was like, uh, no.

so yeah, the money i lent (gave) her was only 3 euros at a time. but it added up fast, and 2 euros to me is the difference between "today i can get tea" or "today i stay home." cristian, for his part, paid me back as soon as i mentioned it to him. but the stuff that was strictly between me and alicia - that money is basically lost. i have resolved to never again "lend" her money. i am too poor for that shit.

so basically, cristian paid 60 for alicia's quarter of the dec/jan bills. if alicia pays just 30 for december, that means me and cecile owe cristian 10. i asked cristian at lunch if he knew his long-term plans, because if he needed to leave, and alicia never returned, i had a friend who could move in. he was like, ok, i'll let you know. then he brought up the bills (at which point he was like "and alicia is definitely coming back" - don't know why he didn't mention that when i brought up the friend...). 

when i said i would give him 10 to cover that month, he was like, "well cecile gave me 20" and said i should just ask alicia for 10 back when she returns. i tried to explain that if alicia is the one who owes him 10 more euros, i think it's better that he get it from alicia rather than me giving him 10 for alicia and then me trying to get it back from alicia. i didn't really want to get into it, but finally i was like, look, you're the one who told me "we're roommates, we're not friends" - but you are friends with alicia - and i have a hard time getting money back from her.

he was not listening or not getting me or i was not presenting it well, but basically he was like, whatever, you do what you want and i'll think what i want. i was like, claro tío, you're gonna think what you want, but i don't want to be - i had to say this part in english, because i don't know a good spanish word for it - i don't want to be an asshole about it. and i know your money is important and you should get it back. and i'm happy to give you my 10 euros. but i'm not paying alicia's part.

cecile came in around this time and i was like help me out. she wasn't much help, but at least the three of us were talking. except, you know, she paid cristian for alicia's part so he's not mad at her, and he's ignoring me and acting like i'm being a total bitch. meanwhile i am struggling to communicate in really basic vocabulary while also being tactful and conjugating in fucking preterite, so i'm talking really slow and needing corrections. at one point he's like, whatever, 10 euros, and then he makes a gesture and says something to the effect of "i piss on 10 euros" and i said well to me 10 euros is a lot of money. and then, i don't know, about five minutes later, who knows what we were saying, but i started crying. not really hard or anything.

cristian, obviously still annoyed, was like, well, i mean, don't get upset. it's not that big of a deal.

what i really wanted to say was, look, i'm not trying to be a jerk. and i don't want this to be the huge fucking ordeal that it is. and i am immensely fucking grateful to you for being here and paying the rent on time and paying the bills and basically being a responsible person.

so i kind of sat around for a few minutes while cecile went back to the living room and finally i stood up and tried to say all that (except i don't know the word for grateful), and he was like, well, it's not a big deal, i'm not short on 10 euros this month or anything. then he said something else about we'll fix it with the bills next time, which i hope doesn't mean he thinks i fucking owe him alicia's 10 euros, but it probably does.

literally none of this would be happening if alicia were here and paying her shit like she's supposed to be. he kept saying stuff like "alicia is having problems" or "she has no money" in a kind of off-handed way and i'm like well dude, if she has problems she has problems, and i'm not mad at her - i corrected myself - i'm a little mad at her, but i don't think poorly of her. but at the same time we have this apartment that has to be paid for. and i just want it to be normal. and i'm tired of being scared at the end of every month that you're gonna leave and she's not gonna come back. (he was like, "no one can kick you out of this apartment." wouldn't it be nice if i had any way to verify that legally.) and you know it's hard when i'm not in my country and not in my home and everything is so out of my control.

so i gave him 10 euros and went to bed, except i couldn't sleep for like an hour. when my alarm went off for flamenco, the thought of dance class was totally unappealing. so i'm skipping flamenco and ballet. i wanted to sleep for the rest of the day but that was not really plausible. i rented an itunes movie and i'm writing this post and i'm just gonna sit around and feel crappy, i guess. i have that assistantship app to work on, but i don't want to be productive. i feel totally drained by all of this bullshit.

this is how bad i feel: when i first started talking to cristian about the apartment stuff, i was in the kitchen getting a chocolate pudding-with-a-cookie out of the fridge. and i ate it while we argued, and i didn't taste a thing.

morning curtains

i.

i went to the beach today. you know, on the mediterranean sea.

ii.

when i wake up, the first thing i see are the curtains. and something about the way the light comes through them makes me think that i'm waking up at home. in my house. this has happened every day for the past week.

this morning i realized it will never happen again.

iii.

i woke up at 7:07 because i was dreaming there was a hurricane coming to hit new orleans again. my whole family was at a house. it was not our house, like when everyone moved to baton rouge and no one lived in their house anymore. it seemed like we were all there, but everyone was waiting for someone, just pacing around waiting for their mom or dad or whoever to get there. my mom was there and she told me to go check on someone and i didn't want to go. all the adults looked doomed and tense in that clenched-jaw joking way. we were in some empty subdivision and we were outside and my whole family, but it was like fifty people, all of them were marching down and around the cul de sac, second lining, and my mom was in the lead.

iv.

this week i dreamt that i found a store in granada that sold raisin nut bran. then i woke up. but i wasn't sad, because brett brought me raisin nut bran from home.