Alexei

GO GO SUPER INTARWEBS!!

2005-12-01T23:32:30Z

OH GREAT AND POWERFUL INTARWEBS!! I CALL UPON YOUR MIGHTY MIGHTY POWER OF POWERFULNESS!! HEAR MY PLEA!!

Specifically, I need an artist. Preferrably, several artists. Many artists, a gaggle. A bunch. Anyway, here's why:

I need a character illustrated. This character appeared in my head, and now it will be the job of the intarnets to bring me to the artist who will illustrate this character, while voraciously absorbing everyone else's time too!

Without further ado, I give you DOC MARMOCK!

Part Marmot. Part Octopus. ALL DOCTOR!

Doc Marmock wanders the (galaxy/outback/untamed wilds) performing medical miracles and generally getting into trouble.

Interests: Operation, Investigation, Hibernation.

Likes: Scalpels. Specially tailored clothes.

Dislikes: Cold weather.

Doc Marmock is a cross between Doc Savage, James Bond, BlackJack, an octopus, and a marmot.

2 character necessities: 1) Short (Short characters are funny.) 2) Torso (Torsos are important for comedy. Also, a character that's just a marmot head on octopus tentacles is creepy.)

YOUR ASSIGNMENT:

Either A) Draw Doc Marmock, (any medium, any format that you can upload) and upload your sketch as a comment to this thread. OR B)If you can't draw but know someone who can, tell them about this page!

I want submissions, people, and only the random aggregation of time is going to give them to me. That means you!

At some point, I may want to turn Doc Marmock into an actual comic strip character, but hopefully for now just the joy of trying to sketch a sophisticated marmot/octopus will be enough challenge to get the art people slavering.

GO MY MINIONS!! And thanks, in advance! THANK YOU MY MINIONS!!

This person has died:

2005-04-18T22:26:06Z

http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2005/04/18/marla/index.html

I do not know this person. I never met her. I hate people who write about the deaths of people they do not know, as I am doing now. But I am willing to mourn a little light going out.

Elegy

2005-04-07T18:02:53Z

Where have all the wise ones gone?

Where are our medicine men, our herbalists, our cunning folk?

Have they vanished, tucking their secrets under their petals like blossoms folding for the night?

Where are the woodfolk? Where are our vegetable emmisaries?

Who will learn the old lores? Who will venture into the darkness for us, and wrest wonders from gods and monsters? Who will teach us to live in the world?

What secrets will they pass on now? To whom?

Where have all the lorekeepers gone? Where are the bards and the skaldi? Where are the singers of songs?

Have they all wandered off into their own stories? Wrapped themselves in fiction and vanished off to another place?

Who will tell us our stories, now, who will remind us of our past?

Who will remember for us?

Who has taken our wise ones from us? Who has blinded us, maimed us, cut out our knowledge?

Where have the wise ones gone? And when are they returning?

For we will need them. Soon.

This is how the invasion began.

2005-04-05T20:36:10Z

Of course, at first it was business as usual. Dark business, maybe, unpleasant business certainly, but the edges can always be written off as a necessary but unwanted side effect. Still, the speeches were pretty, and the precipitous slide into war was seen as healthy and stimulating, at least by those in power. There would always be dissidents, they told themselves sadly, shaking their heads. There would always be people who didn't understand the necessity of war, of defence, of security. They pointed to the bombast, to the glory of it all, and in their eyes danced earlier battles, war wounds half-remembered still festering after all these years. And so, right or wrong, the young men went out to the world to fight for truth and die for a man that none of them had ever met. And still, the old, strong songs sprang to the lips of those at home, and the refrain of power, of dominance, echoed through the halls of the house of the state.

But then...then the first of the beautiful young men died, and gasped out his life in the dust, and then fell another and another, husbands brothers daughters wives. And then the coffins came, under cover of darkness. And in the day, we rejoiced at our imminent victory. And in the night we wept for the dead, and for death itself, and a few wept for folly, and others for greed. But still, it was said, that there could be no victory without sacrifice, and the greater good was mentioned, and also something tasteless about omelets. And still we sent our young men and our young women to fight and die and worse, to kill.

And then...as the difference between the day face and the night face became greater and greater with each heart that bled out into a desert night, as the cracked and crazed smile of the politicos began to seem more and more like the vapid maniacal grin of the psychotic, then and only then did people ask questions. Then were issues raised, and a weeping mother was seen on the television, and there was another flurry of careful maneuvering and delicate manipulation. It was only then that we thought of the coffins, of the bodies brought in, smuggled in under a flag and a night as black as pitch. It was only then that a weeping mother demanded to see the face of her baby boy one last time before they put him into the cold ground, and she was politely shushed, but this was television and a grand event and who could deny the wish of a grieving mother? And it was then, when there was no other option, that the casket was opened, and by then it was too late. Because the nation saw, all at once, the face of that boy there, the face wracked with horror and torment. And the other caskets on display were opened, and each showed the same visage, hidden under the darkness and the flag, each face distorted by an identical expression of abject and unrelenting dread. And amidst the shocked gasps of the hall in which this gruesome display took place, and the worried looks of the viewers watching at home, and the shouts and screams of those at the very highest echelons of power, amidst all of this commotion, a feeling like a finger of ice came to rest upon the back of the necks of practically every person in the nation. And at roughly the same time, all over our fine country, was the sudden nausea of a thousand thousand identical realizations, and the sudden cold sweat of a thousand thousand brows prickling with true fear. Because we had dared to make a war on Terror. And now Terror had landed on our shores. And the invasion began.

You.

2005-03-08T06:36:12Z

Pretty boy and his tongue is a stone.
Clever fingers work rough stone, soft silk.
Your insistent plucking sees the night wane to dawn, draws the beauty from the dross.
I think of you, often, working, alone. I think of you sighing over tiny anvils, squinting at needles. I envy your toil. To be beauty and make beauty seems, to me, an unparalelled accomplishment.

My Best Dream

2003-09-16T05:43:10Z

Ok, so this is cribbed from a response on Chelsea's journal, but it's my dream and I want it here.

I'd been having a dream for a while now. It was pretty much the same, except for the last time.

I was running from some blue people. They had a train and were chasing me up a hill. I ran into a really fancy restaurant, and met a couple of people I knew, possibly in drag. I left the restaurant because I didn't want the blue people to find my friends, even if they were in drag. I was running down a road, and the blue train was behind me. In front of me was a car. I knew that if I could get into the car, the people in the car would help me. I also knew that each time I tried to get to the car, the blue people would shoot me with a tranquilizer dart, and I'd go unconcious, and wake up. I ran for the car, and felt the dart hit my leg. I fell to the ground. After a couple of seconds, I realized that I was still "awake" and jumped up, and into the car. It was an old audi or something. I slammed the door behind me. There were three or four other people in the car with me. I asked them "Where do we go now?" excited to have escaped the blue people. There was a moment of embarrased silence. "We don't know. You've never gotten this far. You must have built up an immunity to the tranquilizer poison." Then I woke up.

Interview!! By Whelp.

2003-06-14T04:32:01Z

Y'know, Paul gives Whelp a bunch of beautiful, thoughtful questions about himself and how he thinks and lives in the world. I ask Whelp to interview me, and...

1.) It's a widely believed fact that you're gay. What's not as well known is that you have a "short list" of women that you'd be willing to set aside your wacky homosexual notions for. Who's on it, and why?

Ok. This question is sort of based on a false premise. I honestly have never really met any girl that I've wanted to sleep with in the same way that I've wanted to sleep with a guy. The people that I've placed on my "short list" (Tori Amos, at one point...umm...other famous people) are mostly people that I have no chance of ever meeting, but who I think would be cool. More interesting (and shorter) is the list of women with whom I've been in sexual situations. But. Y'know. I don't kiss and tell.

In fact, the only passion I've ever had for a woman was destined to fail from before I was bore. Truly, destiny and fate both conspired against my all-consuming passion for Alice B. Toklas. And with her, died my only chance at happiness with a woman.

2.) I've just given you a big-ass bomb and permission to blow up one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It's time to dispense some good old-fashioned American cultural insensitivity. What gets blown up?

Oooh. Um. What ARE the seven wonders of the world now? The seven wonders of the classical world? Umm. Most of those are gone already. The seven wonders of the natural world? Besides my undying hatred for Niagara Falls, I don't think I'd want to see any of the seven wonders blown up. If I could just blow up a monument period...um...I've never liked the Washington Monument. Honestly. It looks stupid. I'd blow it up and replace it with something much cooler. I'm not sure what yet.

3.) You graduated from UC Berkeley, with a major in Japanese literature. You've spent time in Japan, and you're passable at speaking the language. You often watch Japanese movies, and you occasionally read manga. As an American who has immersed himself in Japanese culture, and seen the differences between the two, what is your favorite color?

Actually, I graduated from UC Berkeley with a major in English. But I get what you mean. My favorite color is deep sky blue. The implied question I feel neither interested in answering, nor qualified to do so.

4.) You've just been given a map of the Amazon, and on it you've found an area marked as the Valley of Extremely Well-Hung Cannibals. Do you go, despite the risks? If so, what precautions do you take?

Umm. I resent the implication that I'd go galavanting off to some far off corner of the globe just to meet crazed cannibals who might or might not have sex with me. I also resent the implication that I'd bring barbecue sauce.

5.) Which of the following would you most prefer?
A.) A puppy
B.) A pretty flower from your sweetie
C.) A large, properly formatted data file?

B.

If you want me to interview you--post a comment that simply says, "Interview me." I'll respond with questions for you to take back to your own journal and answer as a post. Of course, they'll be different for each person since this is an interview and not a general survey. At the bottom of your post, after answering the Interviewer's questions, you ask if anyone wants to be interviewed. So it becomes your turn-- in the comments, you ask them any questions you have for them to take back to their journals and answer. And so it becomes the circle.
Who will play? May I interview you? -- Originally from anoisblue

B.U.B.!

2003-06-12T06:30:19Z

I got my bike today! I spent two hours riding around at random in Berkeley, switching gears and smiling at pedestrians. It's really kind of delightful, since I'm in this brilliant mode of transportation that allows me to stop on a dime or a whim to pet cats, read flyers, buy juice, whatever. I discovered, however, after two hours of riding around Berkeley, that bits and pieces of me that I've never really thought about were now viciously sore, and protested further movement.

Point being, I'm all pleased with myself. Kai and Momovelo stand for something that I honestly believe in, an idea about buying things from people instead of companies, things that are made by people who know your first name and ask you for your music tastes before they'll sell you a bike. Momovelo's storefront doubles as a kind of cafe/hang out spot for people who all (oddly enough) speak Japanese. So I've been invited to hang out there and converse in Japanese with the bike afficionados there, something that I'm looking forward to over the summer. The fact that I've sort of got a crush on Kai may, possibly, be another factor. I dunno. You decide.

Byoki desu!

2003-06-11T01:44:21Z

I'm sick! I'm not super sick, or deathly ill, or whatever. But my throat is sore and scratchy, and my nose is stuffed up. Grrr. Regardless. I'm hanging out with Ian and watching "Darkness Falls" which is cheap horror in the "Two-Words-In-The-Title" genre. I've found that horror movies can be almost invariably be rated by the number of words in the title. Thus: Monster movies have One-Word titles. "Jaws," "Rats," "Anaconda," etc. etc. etc. These are usually of the "Giant Animal" variety, although "Frankenstine" also qualifies.

Horror films with Two-Word titles usually end up being a bit smarter, or at least higher budget, as if it cost more money to get that second word. Currently, there's a big fad for movies that have titles that are also the names of the places that the movies are set in. "Darkness Falls," "Lake Placid," the oddly named "Cherry Falls," (a horror movie with a virginity theme,) and so forth. The best of these, to my mind, is "Ginger Snaps," which is pretty much the cleverest take on the werewolf myth I've seen to date.

More than two words and your horror movie is almost certain to be either foreign or big budget, in which case it's almost always a sequel. All the big movie makers have at least one cash cow in their stable which they can milk for another sequel. "Friday the 13th," "Nightmare on Elm Street," "Day of the Dead" and its whole family of movies, among others. This is the epitome of the horror film, at least to the studio. They can keep releasing sequels with longer and longer titles, which will continue making money. By this logic, "Dawn of the Day of the Night of the Afternoon of the Picnic of the Carpool of the Dead" should be heading to a theater near you sometime mid July.

Ashitaga jitenshao kaimasu

2003-06-10T08:17:38Z

Or, in other words, "Tomorrow, I buy a bicycle."

This has been a pretty fantastic week. Thursday, I went to Momovelo and got a bicycle the way that bicycles were meant to be gotten. The bicycle I'm getting is called a B.U.B., A Berkeley Universal Bicycle. It's a well built bike which is specifically designed to wander around Berkeley with, with twenty one speeds and a leather seat. The thing about B.U.B.s is that they're pretty much fully customizable, and before you can buy one Kai Matsuda, the guy who owns the shop, interviews you about your tastes in clothing, music, your history, your "mode," (i.e. how you live in your city,) etc. etc. etc. and then puts it all in some kind of brilliant computer, and your bike comes out the other end. My bike will be ready tomorrow and, apparantly, looks fantastic, according to both Kai and, as I found out, my Japanese professor, Katagiri-Sensei, who is a friend of his.

Which brings us neatly to the second part of my week, which is that I started Japanese this morning, with brilliant prospects. It was just an introductory meeting, but it was great to meet my professors (some of them for the second time) and see everyone who's going to be in my classes, including a couple of good friends that I havn't seen in ages who just sort of happened by chance to be taking the same classes I am. It's amazing to be back on campus, to get back into that groove. Just the chance to focus all my energy on one thing is intensely invigorating.

I'm also going to pick up a gym membership, possibly from one of my friends, and start going ASAP. I'm looking forward to a fruitful summer spent pedalling around Berkeley, babbling in Japanese, and complicated athletic workouts.

If there's been a downside to the week, it was that I've been having a couple of scheduling issues with work. My schedule has changed now that I'm in school and, although I noted this to my boss when I started working, I've been scheduled for a couple of shifts that I'm going to have to switch or drop because they interfere with school. Fortunately, Reel has shown itself really flexible and forgiving about schedule stuff, so I don't anticipate much of a problem.

Anyway, as promised, I'm updating my journal again. I know I've been lax, and it's going to take a while to get the message out, but we'll see how this whole thing turns out.

I am, as soon as I've got something worth posting, going to start putting pieces of "The Shadow Prince" here on my Livejournal. Look for it.

Cliche, cliche, tres lame.

2003-02-09T23:13:12Z

So it's stupid at this point to say sorry. All I'll say is that it's been a vicious few weeks and there hasn't been a whole lot of time/energy to write. When I get to Berkeley (and DSL!) I'll update more. That happens on Thursday.

So long till then!

Alexei

Wow. this is pretty weird.

2003-01-05T21:01:47Z

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to another installment of "How Weird ARE these people?!?" the fun game that asks important questions of people who seem to be morons.

Today's contestant seems to be "Jay Moogle" from "????, NJ USA," and here is an excerpt from his online review of the game ".hack" which, to be fair, does look pretty cool.

------

This game is gonna be awesome. You take on the role of Kite, a kid who plays an online game called "The World" with his friend, Orca, when something goes terribly wrong. A virus attacks them and in the real world, Orca becomes seriously ill. Kite is determined to play the game more and find a way to revive Orca.

This is soooo awesome. This isnt no same-old-boring rpg plot. All rpgs are the same now. This is finally a new, cool idea. Just think, you are playing a video game within a video game. This game is gonna be great!

You can equip many different weapons and skills, level up, and even meet new friends in the "game game" and ask them to join your party and give them your email address (which is NOT real email). In the game, in the real world (not "The World" game) you can go on your computer and you get email from people that have your address. This email feature helps you during the game because characters email you and tell you important things that are needed to complete certain tasks and that help you.

This game is so detailed, if you didnt know better, you would think you were playing a real online video game. It is made to look like you are actually playing a real online rpg (by the way, this is NOT a real online game).

I almost forgot a great part. This game is part 1 of 4 games, so more will come out after! They will probably come out 4-5 months between each other, so you'll have plenty of time to beat each one and enjoy each game thouroughly.

When this game comes out in early February, I tell you BUY BUY BUY!!!! Definitly No Doubt BUY THIS GAME. It is gonna be an excellant game and it will be a different kind of game (a rest from normal rpgs) I know i will buy this game and you should too.
------

Actually, I lied, it's the whole thing, but it's fairly short. But it begs the question: How weird IS this guy?!? I mean, REALLY? What, is he some android that Bandai, the game makers, created and then pumped full of speed to sell their product? He's like a human being made out of a commercial!

Now, I understand that this whole review is probably something popped out by Bandai to try to drum up interest in their product, but really! Even if it is, it's a pisspoor job of it. Am I honestly supposed to believe that there's some guy in ???? New Jersey who's LITERALLY jumping up and down with glee over this game? It doesn't even come out until February. Ok. So let's do this systematically.

Paragraph 1) If you've read the Amazon.com site on the game, you'll quickly realize that this is, in fact, a repeat of the ad-copy that Amazon spews out over the game. It's not quite word for word, but it's really damn close. Now, the important thing to remember is that Amazon spits this copy out TWICE before you read the review. So I've just read the exact same thing TWICE and then the first paragraph of this review recaps it again. It's a bit much.

Paragraph 2) This is a desperate attempt to sound like a real human being, and it fails miserably. When the reviewer notes that this is going to be "soooo awsome," I'm suddenly fraught with distress. I thought this guy's name was Jay. But now he sounds like a twelve year old girl. Confusing. Also, the statement "Just think, you're playing a game inside a game." should never be followed with "This game is gonna be great." Actually, that sounds awful. Anytime you say "this is gonna be great," it's tatamount to saying "open up, I've got to drill them all."

Paragraph 3) Ok. This is the first time that the game actually starts to sound interesting. Apparantly, the drugs have worn off the reviewer, and he's kind of calmed down. The only weird thing about this paragraph, and the next one, is their insistance that the e-mail in the game is NOT real e-mail. As if I'd confuse them. I'm reasonably intelligent and have figured out that if there's a game in the game then it's even less real than the one I'm playing at the first level of interface. (Actually, that's kind of a cool question. Is a game that I play in a game any less real than the one I'm playing now? Anyway.) It all ends up sounding a bit too much like corporate ad-speak so that later Bandai can point to it and say "See, we said it WASN'T real e-mail," to cover their asses. And that worries me, because it implies that people are so mystified by technology that they'd be confused as to whether or not e-mail inside a game is a functional system or not.

Paragraph 4) The "I almost forgot" device is tired, and it's got this weird desperation as a part of it, as if it's so important to tell us about it that he has to pretend to forget it to slip it under the radar. Other than that, this paragraph is another break, but it's like the calm before the storm.

Paragraph 5) Ok. Here we go. Now we've got some guy whose last name is "Moogle" shouting "BUY BUY BUY" at us. This is really the part of the thing that weirds me out. If this isn't a real person writing this, then we've got some guy at Bandai who now screaming at us to buy their product, which I can understand, cause TV does it, and if TV does it it's ok. But just imagine, if you will, if this was a real person. An actual person who actually thinks that this tactic will get us to buy this game. Just imagine such a person for a moment. And always remember: BUY BUY BUY.

Whisper through the tree tops, sing it through the streets...

2003-01-02T12:39:31Z

...I'm coming home. The cause is sad, but the effect is, I think, for the best. I'll be home by the end of the week.

Happy Something!

2002-12-21T22:46:25Z

Hello everyone! I know this journal has been viciously, hideously underkept, but I have to say that my life has ground to a sort of hibernative halt. I work nights now at the hostel that I'm staying at, and therefore am always asleep, excepting those times that I'm calling ambulances for people who've been punched in the head. (I'm making a name for myself as "The boy whose presence heralds medical emergencies" here at the hostel.)

Anyway, things are ok, everything is going well, I miss everyone more than I can say, and I've started having dreams where I show up unexpectedly for Christmas.

Take care everyone, and I'm sorry that I can't be there to be with you this time.

Love.

Well...

2002-10-18T16:06:24Z

So things didn't exactly go according to plan. It's funny how things change from moment to moment. The train from Manchester to London was easy, and dull, and the tube ride to Queen's Way was uneventful. My first night in the hostel I was staying in was normal, and my only full day in London was nice, but not especially special...

I had a plane to catch the next day, at 6:40 in the morning. I had to get a cab from the hostel at 4:30 to the train station, and then a train at 5:17 that would get me to the airport just in time. Which meant that I couldn't sleep Wednesday night for fear of missing the cab. So I settled down in the lounge for a long night of reading.

Never happened. Twenty minutes into reading, I realized that there were kids behind me playing cards or rather, sitting around over a half-spread out deck of cards. I asked if they were looking for a fourth for cards, and they agreed to deal me in. The game is one of the oldest ever and is variously known as "asshole" or "rich man, poor man," but people who've been paying attention for the last couple of years know that there's one name by which we know this game best. Which is how I ended up playing The Great Dalmudi (I brought my deck) with a bunch of kids in this hostel at three in the morning. And that was about when I realized that I didn't want to leave, and go to Berlin. That I'd found people I liked and who were funny and cool right in London, and that I'd never spent a whole lot of time in London, and that, in short, I wasn't going anywhere. So I'm still in London, and having a blast. The hostel is a lot like living at Cloyne. Noisy, and fun, and filled with kids, some cool, some not.

Regardless, I'm here for a while. Here's the Address, just in case!

2 Inverness Terrace
Bayswater, London W2
Great Britan

There isn't a phone number, but I am getting a cell phone soon, so I'll post that number here as well when I get it.

Ok, ok...sorry.

2002-10-07T04:42:32Z

So I just realized that the longer I go without updating, the harder it gets to update. It's a habit thing, I guess. And it's been forever, which is bad, again. But it's hard to update when things are so...quiet.

Manchester is a city which has been ravaged by the last fifteen years, it seems to me. It's fairly ugly, not moreso than Los Angeles, but without that city's greater gift for turning squalor into box office gold. Manchester is a little city, trying desperately to be a big city, failing because apparantly the people who are running it are insane. More than the near-criminal oversights in city planning (whose bright idea was it to privatize the bus system, for Christ's sake?) there's a kind of general gloom that hangs over the place, even on nice, sunny days. It catches you on street corners at four in the afternoon and turns you around for a bit, then leaves you feeling like you touched something dead. It's in the way that people look at each other in passing, a seconds worth of worry. It's not everywhere, and it's not all the time (nothing is everywhere, all the time) but it's there.

Berlin, on the other hand, is a city that feels like your dad's favorite jacket. The one that's a bit threadbare but still wearable, that's super comfortable but too big for you. Berlin, at least when I was there, was warm and comfortable, and everyone seemed to just sort of sit around all the time, enjoying it. Which gives the city this fantastically relaxed feeling to it, although I'm sure the fact that I didn't have a job contributed. Also, that I only stayed there a week.

Which is why I'm now going back for Berlin, part two! That's right, I'm going back to Berlin, from Manchester, which is an improvement any way you slice it (except that Nicole won't be there.)

Ok. I'm delirious with exhaustion. Goodnight!

Well...that was confusing.

2002-09-23T13:35:31Z

I'm really, REALLY sorry for not having posted here for a month. Upon my arrival in Manchester, I discovered that BT (British Telecom) is, in fact, the devil, and that they would not give me an outside line, that they have in fact installed devices ON THE PHONELINE to keep it from giving computers an outside line. This kind of ass-backwards crypto-bastard mentality proved to be a recurrent theme in Manchester. Example: Manchester privatized their bus system. That's right! The municiple bus system is now run by four or five private companies. And, predictably, it's horrendous. The buses all have different times, different fares, different routes. The bus stops all have cute signs that say that, due to the wealth of information that they are supposed to be furnishing you, they can not fit it all onto a placard and, rather than give you SOME of the information you need, they've decided to give you none of it. Bastards. Of course, there's no way around taking the bus because Manchester is so badly planned out that it's impossible to actually get anywhere on foot.

So. Vis-a-vis my travel plans, for those of you who want to know where I am. I'll probably be in Manchester for a little while longer (a week, maybe a week and a half) and then I'll be going (hopefully) for a month in Berlin, unless something comes up first. I'll post an address here as soon as I get one in Berlin.

Also, as soon as I get to a phone line that hasn't been brutalized by a hideous phone company, I'll post the three or four posts that I have on my laptop to my journal.

I love you all.

It's so hard to write...

2002-08-28T12:17:48Z

when you're busy living. So I'm pretty behind in entries, but I promise it'll all get made up as soon as things settle down. Brief preceed:

I arrived about a week ago in Berlin, after a fairly brutal nine-hour train ride, and was met by Nicole at the train station. We've been staying in her old flat with her old roommate Sarah, although her old room has been usurped by a mysterious and terrifying force known only as Dortea. As such, we've kind of been sneaking around here, sleeping on the couch or in Sarah's bed when she's out at her boyfriend's house.

But I'm only here for a couple more days, and then it's off to Manchester, England, where I'll be staying with Nicole and her housemates for about three weeks, before coming back to Berlin to really sink my teeth into the city. As soon as I get to Manchester and things calm down a bit, I'll be writing to fill in everything that's happened, starting with the Orthodox Mass and ending with the 16 hour bus ride to London.

Things I saw...

2002-08-18T21:04:02Z

So at about ten o'clock every night, one of the stations that I watch shows bad horror movies. So far I've seen:

Pet Cemetary (Simtierre,) which I renamed "Darian Lambert and Tasha Yar V.S. Demonbaby." If you got all the dumb sci-fi references, good for you.

Pet Cemetary 2 (Simtierre 2,) which seemed better than the first one, with the exception of the hideous kitten mutilations half-way through. It does teach us the valuable lesson that zombies aren't good at anything.

I am currently watching Jason 6, Undead Jason, which tries to cop street cred by having Jason kill a bunch of paint-ball players. Besides the fact that I delight in watching paint-ball players be hideously mutilated, this sixth offering in the series is really unbelievably bad.

Fortunately for me, all these m ovies are in French, which gives them an extra air of surreality that renders them watchable.

More tomorrow, and then it's off to Berlin!

P.S.

2002-08-17T20:48:47Z

I finally buckled and bought a live journal membership. This journal is, therefor, also viewable at:

nowhere_boy.livejournal.com

Has anyone noticed that the journal sites all have great misspellings? Diaryland quickly becomes Dairyland, which sounds like a good place for cheese, and I don't know how many times I've tried to go to LiverJournal instead of LiveJournal. LiverJournal sounds much less pleasant, but probably more informative.

The Wild Blue Yonder

2002-08-17T20:44:32Z

Well, boys and girls, it's finally happening. After a month in Geneva spent enjoying and relaxing and learning and writing, I am off to the first leg of the really real part of my trip. Wednesday morning I will be boarding a train in Cornavin, in downtown Geneva, and Wednesday evening I will be disembarking in Germany where, if all the gods are with me, I will be met by my friend Nicole. At which point I will be entering the jaunty and multicolored vortex which is Nicole's wake, and all bets will be off.

So, cue the theme music, roll the opening credits, send the dancing monkeys. In short, it's time to get this party started.

I will keep you lovely people posted.

P.S. Before I leave, I expect there to be one more entry as I am attending (tomorrow morning) a Greek Orthodox mass. This should be interesting.

Ode to the One I Should Have Known

2002-08-13T02:15:52Z

So I just finished reading a journals. I read Paul's. And I got really, really sad. Because I know Paul. And reading his journal made me realize, in a way, how little I know him, now. So this one's for him. And we're going to do this slow, and it's probably going to get a little messy. But you'll just have to bear with me, cause it's got to be said, and it's really, really late where I am.

You are one of the most brilliant people that I have ever met. You are funny, and witty, and charming. You are profound and knowledgable. You are incisive and discerning about almost everything. Allowing you to slip further and further away from my life was one of the worst mistakes I have ever made. There have been times in the last four years, when it was your council that I was missing, your pure line of thought that I needed to put my muddled mind in order. I have hurt and been hurt because I never thought to ask you for your input, because you always seemed too far away to help me. And the truth is, in a way, I was too proud to ask you. Too proud and too ashamed, at the same time. For as long as I have known you, I have wished that I was as wise as you are, as kind as you are. As beautiful and as cunning as you are. I have wished for your eloquence, for your passion. I have wished, more than anything, to be worthy of your friendship. And that, as they say, is the rub. I have never felt myself worthy to be your friend. From the first moment I met you (and I remember the first moment I met you, we met on the bus, and you destroyed me within seconds of meeting) you were always there with the unbelievable ease with which you seemed to do everything, always ready to do without effort what it took me every straining muscle to accomplish. You were LITERALLY promethean fire to my base clay (I'm starting to learn a lot about promethean fire.)

And then, suddenly, we were severed. Off to different places, to different lives. And things, I things (and correct me if I'm wrong) got hard for you. And I, far away, had to watch you get hurt and feel utterly powerless because I was never the one you called for help, and you'd given me so much already that I couldn't ask you for help again. I gave you one gift, I think, a person who is very, very close to me, and he did for you some of what he did for me. And I resented the both of you for it, which is never the right attitude to take towards gifts, but what can you do. And you, in return, gave me some very strange things, nights and times that were something beautiful and sharp and unfinished, and I never knew quite what to do with them.

So I'm sorry that this has taken this long (and I hope, I pray, that it is not too late,) but please allow me to tender this invitation: I know that I am small, and far away. But I have not receeded into the distance too much to offer my help, in any capacity that I you will accept it. I want to have long conversations with you, find out what you think about a hundred thousand different things, argue with you, tell you you're wrong, suggest books, get suggestions. I want you to know that, in whatever way that I reserve for those people who have come close to my heart, I love you, which means that I rejoice at your victories and mourn your defeats.

Please. Know that I am here, and that I still think of you, and that I miss you.

And be well.

P.S. And know that I will treasure forever one, specific night, a long time ago, after a movie, sitting on my lawn and looking up at you and, even though it's academic now, I will always kick myself for not acting.

Tiny Victories

2002-08-13T00:17:17Z

So I helped a guy who was lost in Geneva today. It was this tiny little thing. I'd gone up to Bour-De-Four, which is an area that's right where the oldest part of the city starts, to hang for a bit and get some writing done (which I did) and then just started wandering around. I eventually stumbled on a not-unattractive young man, standing with a map, having successfuly found one of Geneva's rare and oddly placed street-signs. I, being the good samaritan that I am, asked him if he was lost, to which he replied that yes, he was. At which point I was overcome with a sudden sense of utter panic as I realized that I was, possibly the worst person to have stumble on you and try to be helpful if you're lost in Geneva. I was put in mind of an incident that Patrick and I experienced one fine morning in early summer at Berkeley, whose details are much too dull to be examined in this journal.
I was saved, luckily, from utter topographical humiliation when I realized that the street in question lay not two hundred yards from where we were. I pointed him in the right direction, he went on his way, I went on mine. Life is good.

I love you all!

P.S. Does anyone know how to add a signature to this thing? Is it possible? Is it worth it?

"Caaaapitaine Flam tu n'est pas,
de notre galaxie.
Tu viens de l'autre cote
de la nuit..."

(My terrible rendition of the Capitaine Flam theme song.)

Genf

2002-08-11T23:45:40Z

Genf is Geneva in German. It's my favorite way to say Geneva, even though I don't speak German. It's short, and sort of to the point, and mostly it's got that "nf" combination that we don't see at all in English. It's not a particularly good name for the city, is the only problem, since Geneva is actually neither short nor to the point. Geneva is an oddly shaped city, since it wraps around the lake. Geneva has brilliant public transportation and lots and lots of clocks, not all of which work, but all the ones that do work are always on time. Geneva has a whole "Old City" section, which is filled with these beautiful little alleyways with archaic stone buildings looming over you on either side, that suddenly give out on to brilliant little plazas with fountains. Geneva is a good city to walk around in listening to something kind of surreal, such as "Mink Car" which is the new TMBG CD. Geneva has a lot of walls which are covered beautifully by ivy. The ivy always looks like it's been there forever, and I remember a lot of it from being a little kid. Actually, I'm surprised by how much I remember, in weird flashes and odd recollections, like knowing that there are cannons under the arches at the end of this little walkway, but being unable to remember when I was last there. Of course, the last time I was in Geneva was when I was about 15, so it's not like it's been forever, but I guess it's been a while.
Everyone wants to know what I've been doing since I got here, and unfortunately, there's not a lot to tell. I've spent my time wandering around the city, walking from place to place, learning how to take the train and the tram and the bus, and enjoying the fact that I pretty much have nothing to do. Other things I've been doing:

Learning how to blow smoke rings. Dimitry has a hookah, and is teaching me how to blow smoke rings.

Getting drenched at Lake Parade. Lake Parade is a big outdoor dancefest put on for the national festivals in the beginning of August. I went with Justine and it rained buckets, but we still had a good time.

Hunting down old books. Fourier's "Theorie en Quatre Mouvements," the Codex Seraphinius, a couple of others that I've been looking for for a while. Everyone tells me to go to Paris, so I might have to put this off for a bit.

Planning to get to Berlin by any means necessary. No explanation necessary.

Enjoying the rain, which everyone else hates.

Writing. Finally, I'm writing again, which is fantastic, and making good progress. If you are all very lucky and good, and write me often, I will post pages of what I'm writing to my journal.

Losing my CD case. That's right. I was not here three weeks before I lost the CD case that I'd just bought and, stupidly, filled with my Pizzicato Five CDs. So my entire Pizzicato 5 collection is gone, along with a couple of Moxy Fruvous CDs. Life is hard for everyone, but if anyone's read this far down and feels at some point like sending me a little gift...

Happy End of The World
Happy End of You (Remix Album)
International Pizzicato Five Year 1994
Playboy and Playgirl
Fifth Release from Matador
Pizzicato 2000 (Remix Album, import)

Also, I lost Bargainville and You Will Go To The Moon by MF. I was so sad!

Fortuntaly, I was cheered up by discovering some amazing music which I've only ever heard of in Europe. Sophie Ellis-Bextor, and a band called Shivaree (which has one of the most fantastically named singers ever, Ambrosia Parsley.)

Anyway. For now, that's all I have to report.

I love you all!

"Radiohead is pop sad." --Me.

Notes from Heathrow

2002-07-30T22:48:02Z

Well, I’ve finally arrived at Heathrow Airport. I’m eating a sandwich and a coke which, combined, cost me something on the order of $10 American, but is, frankly, the best food I’ve ever tasted. Hunger is the best sauce. I’ve been flying for 9 hours and Heathrow was something of a shock after so much sitting down. I think I’d be happier if I hadn’t mouthed off to the security guard, but so be it. (The phrase “It’s just a trashy paperback” can actually come out sounding kind of snide if you’re really really tired. I guess they have to check it, but really, I’d hardly expect anyone to hide a weapon inside a copy of Baroness of Blood. I mean…think of the headlines…) Anyway. The place is a zoo, but in a cute, fun way. I’m kind of letting myself be bossed around by helpful looking women in cute blazers, wandering from place to place, taking busses, hoping that my luggage is following me. As I walked into the big buy/sell section of Heathrow, a cellular phone display was playing “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandy Warhols. Even in Heathrow Airport, Ian Wallis is my friend. Thank you, Ian. The song is doubly ironic because this place is about as unbohemian as you can get and still be a place and not like…the color red or the idea of Thursdays. Currently, the shops/restauraunts surrounding me are: Pret A Manger, where I just had a BLT sandwich, the confusingly named Ristorante-Pizzeria & Caffe-Bar (Is it a restaurant? A pizzeria? A café? A bar? The world may never know.) which might also be (unhelpfully) called “est.” (Or at least, that’s in neon nearby.) Then there’s the Burger King, resassuring and adorable in its ubiquitousness. Then the Seafood Bar (There’s this sort of “name it what it is” mania around here. I keep expecting to run into “Airline Airline” or “The Bus Bus.”) and then a fairly delightful smattering of upscale duty free stuff. There are ALSO a lot of cute guys. I’ve seen more attractive young men in the last half an hour than I’ve seen in one place in a long time.

My computer helpfully informs me that it is 5:38 in the morning, my time. I tell it that it’s actually 2:38 in the afternoon, in a place that I havn’t gotten to yet.

The British are masters of oddly shaped currency. I can only imagine how their vending machines work. Currently I’m in possession of 2.71 pounds, which looks like this: One small round flat coin which looks like a normal penny (1 penny,) One small silvery, sweetly rounded and slightly septagonal coin, with an intricate design (20 pence,) one large hefty silver coin, also septagonal (50 pence) and two thick, smallish coins, goldish, which sort of look like dimes on steroids. They’ve got a certain amount of heft to them, and have leapfrogged to the top of my “Coins I would least like to have thrown at my head” list. Around the edges is written the inscription “PLEDIOL WYF I’M GWLAD” which confirms my earlier suspicion that the British are mad, in light of their practice of inscribing their coins with meaningless gibberish. (I know, I know, it’s probably in some obscure foreign dialect. But really. These are the people who INVENTED English. I mean…We NAMED it after them. They could at least show some respect.)

Enough for now. I’m afraid of depleting my computer’s battery unnecessarily.