i dont cur

no its okay if this comes off as really wollowy and silly but i kind of know that i wish i could erase something from my memory because all it is doing is repeatedly scrapping away it things and making me feel like shit and regretfulll over and over and then over and over and then over. oh and then one more go around.

why am i write?

because im totally antsy all of the time. duh.

also i kind of feel like i need to hear myself on paper more/again. im so restless and im getting frustrated and alot of time its like when you have paper mess and clothes mess and your putting it off and just dealing with it even though it makes you so mad but you dont want to deal with it and then you finally do and you realize it really wasnt all that bad and it really wasnt that had to manage it just felt that way because you were knee deep in it. and thats kind of how i feel about everything.

its shitty sometimes trying to sort out that people you come into contact with alot are different and because of that kind of play different roles. that sounds like people are just being used and disposed and it also sounds really chickensoupy but i guess more like because everyone is different and you are different every relationship you have with every everybody is totally different and you can't really expect to have the same relationship with different people and then also people aren't stagnant and you're not going to have the very very same dynamic with the same person always forever and the best thing you can hope for is very good changes.

and i guess realizing and accepting that all the time is what its supposed to be to have matured but im not sure we all get that and im not sure we all stay there all the time if we even really realize and accept that ever.

i remember reading something about someone talking about "bored people" and by bored people the huge gossipers and pit beefheads and mean spiritedness. shit happens but leeching off of shit that happens. i dont know, sometimes i feel like i should feel worse about drinking alot of whisky and falling and dancing weird and doing stupid things and talking weird and stealing pickles and things or wearing a half shirt or soleless shoes or i dont know all kinds of things that are maybe a little embarrassing. but honest, do i ever wouldratherbe a drunk or a fool or a crazy or a manic or a lonely or a crockpot than bored people. also, for saying "nah dude"s

my ex-roommate is a stand up gentleman and often i felt like a sloppy next to him and he never forgave me fully for covering the bathroom in electric blue vomit. he seems more and more to me a bored person. and then i felt worse for not feeling worse for being a little too haphazard. but i felt this phrase that he and his friends uttered in my living room was coated with proof of bored person: "let's talk about what kid we hate most in tempe"
absolute willies.

i dont know are you allowed to not like bored people and are you supposed to feel sorry and is it just a scapegoat to write them down as bored people. blow people.


better friends with olivia. sympathize about being weird people. we arent very alike in alot alot of ways. when we were first friends i think all we did was talk about work and eat 65cent cones late night in front of . and be silly. and dance. all that except the work and plus everything else in a really simple way and how we would imagine the insides of dried up verde tree pods to taste like. we both agreed kind of the same texture as a cucumber, but peeled. miss kyle.

miss liz and sarah and in completely different ways feel like i was so close with them. kind of hoping having completely different but equally good mostnearlybestfriendnesses is the same as different love. all different all good all incomparable. wish wish wish.

i am in a weird fucking mood, aren't i?
must be why i am write.
also, listen to too much shitgaze. lastfm confirms.

maybe mildly masochistic

when i was in first or maybe second grade i wanted a dog so badly which i really don't understand because i was a little afraid of dogs. i really really liked animals and was totally fascinated by them and was completely charmed by them and was completely, when it came down to it, scared of them in real life. my dad bought us our first dog penny and we had little puppy gates and i did whatever i could not to be in that gate area. like sit at the dinner table with my feet in my lap. and then run away really fast with a really full belly. but i was so happy to have that dog. even though i didnt want to be near it.

i want to say that ive become so mature and grown up and started doing things that make alot more sense but i still do that all the time. bizarre choices. always. and not like i know this is bad for me but imma do it anyway imma be free. may be the end of me once.

you know, buy dogs that im scared off and love them anyway. i totally got over it and i'd like to think our bond was way better than anyone else's in the house thank you very much. if we did the run to whoever is your real owner test there wouldn't even be a competition. biffles.



i pretty sure im going to turn into a packrat. cant toss anything. can collect everything.

take the train

i wonder if they would have taken my hair donation. She straightened it and it had to be 10 but it was so sad i can only imagine a mangey rat tail donation. and i just dont know how you make a rat tail wig.

we had a good day in phoenix the other time and it made me think i dont hate it all too much its just a matter of not being there for a horribly long time. ball pit and then looking like a pedophile and then beer garden and then the best light ride (a convict prostitute drinking so cal and a convict 18year old girl with a guy in camo and an eastern european and alot of good things) and free rides on that trolly and a fashion show we werent invited to that was really really bad.

and then halfsies of a black velvet and thats the worst thing i think ive ever done to myself but i didnt get sick just came to screaming on the couch outside but didnt wake up with a farrett on me like last time and the last thing i remember was liz. i miss her. i miss you. and then two days later i got the food poisoning and im almost positive it was karma and my roommate just thinks it was another blue vomit incident which is kind of silly.

im excited and scared. i need one of these to work out okay. want more than need. i hate making phone calls. i don't know if i'll take alaska. i dont know if i have balls yet. its supposed to be beautiful. and pay. and a lot of animals.

i miss talking to sara and erin and

friend envy

sara and i used to talk about how when we were little and even now there's people you want to be your friend super bad and you dont even know them but you figure it'd be super nice and they'd call you up on the phone and you'd go get a cup of coffee and they'd tell you things that had nothing to do with why you had friend lust for them in the beginning like talking about their dog or something they saw on tv about sea creatures.

and i really wish charlie kaufman were my friend.
and its silly that they mention in his biography that he went to school with Christopher Columbus. I dont know, its weird to think about his stuff and then home alone.

and this is mostly for liz and every interview i read of his changes the way i feel about things and not because its horribly spiritual or emotional but its on a plate this is this is this and it never is supposed to be about what i associate it with but it kind of just wraps itself exactly the way its supposed to be exactly the way it is. and he never leads onto elaborate references; i feel like if you asked him something about Alexander Pope he'd mumble and probably change the subject and kind of think that was annoying.

"this character which is like the free-spirited, kooky woman who only exists in order to teach man how to live" and i feel like that was russia.

"We all create the world outside of us. Parallel to the thing I was saying about time—this is a very subjective experience, being alive. You’re constantly interpreting and reinterpreting and trying to figure out “The Story.” You’re trying to figure out the story of me, and I’m trying to figure out the story of you and somehow incorporate that into my understanding of the world. We tell stories, as people. [But] I don’t think, if you stepped back from people, there are any stories. I don’t think the world really exists that way. It’s the way our brains work, it’s the way we try to organize input."

and all of this is totally cheesy but i really like charlie

"I wanted to build a casino in Las Vegas called Las Vegas, Las Vegas. Like the idea of Paris, Las Vegas (the real life casino) is that you don’t have to actually go there — their campaign is something like ‘all the best of Paris without the French people.’ So then (with Las Vegas, Las Vegas,) there’s the idea that you don’t actually have to go to Paris, Las Vegas either because there’s a replica of all of Vegas—including Paris, Las Vegas—within this other casino. So you get even more safe by not having to go out into the strip at all. I thought that would be a pretty successful resort."

also someone called him "so meta" and thats reason enough to want to be his friend weather or not he actually is "meta" and whatever that even really means anyway

back on track

five times turned down for twistie cones this week and it didnt help anything. and then we decided to fix it. and the first mcdonald's we rolled up to had it. ate it in staples parking lot like the old times but not in front of baskin robins because we were chicken and it was open.
and then we see this parade rolling down the street. like 20 kids and a shopping cart and hula hoops and a ghetto blaster. and we looped back for a better look and slowed down and they were all strung out and looking into the light like zombies. and then looped again. and then determined to go find them later but fell asleep by accident.
funsavers with olive, and then the dog park with roxanne and it was 5 of us and 1 dog having the time of our lives and getting abused by this puggish mutt Brutus who kept kicking water on us and pissed on roxanne's leash and then this tiny dog with a mustache who had a british owner. later i dragged roxanne away from an awful hardcore show going on at her house and took her on the longest walk i think she'd ever managed and was sure i might have to go scout a shopping cart and push her the rest of the way. also she pooped in someone's lawn and i had to fashion a bag out of paper from my purse. flug it in the gutter when i got desperate. roxanne got excited for 5 minutes and then fell asleep for 3 hours.
olivia and i took off to go find the mountain and got side tracked for supplies for a 2 am picnic and drove out until stars started appearing and every trail was closed and even mystery castle but the city was lit up and the roads were windy and the valley's greatest oldies were pretty spot on.

GOLD RUSH AUGUST

two thousand nine

lists

the goods

1. take offs in airplanes
2. orange blossom smell in springtime
3. barefoot
4. riding fast downhill and not being scared
5. waking up outside


the needs

1. motion
2. wandering
3. outside
4. writing
5. finding out something new
6. something new


the first day in russia we were in that weird retirement home in repina and the elevator was a broom closet and the sheets in all of our rooms were mismatched and like a yard sale and we walked to the ocean. and then we walked farther and farther down the beach and to a really large rock we didn't think the sea would touch but it did it anyway and then farther and we all got a lot of sand in our shoes but we made it to a tiny cluster of graffitti rocks and they were rainbows and hearts and sara and liz were the only ones there with me except for those two russian boys who finally followed all the way and told us we had to go back.

in saratoga there was that really dirty teepee in the middle of the woods and we brought a laptop and watched welcome to the doll house which wasnt like we were expecting and i was too dirty to get any mosquito bites.

the goods

1. funsavers
2. rolands
3. W
4.

please please please

never have i ever







been this anxious for a returned phone call.

won't stop after all

i promise. russia is gone but its not over.
sometimes i like the desert. things i like about the desert: bike weather, occasional plants and animals

actually the other day and by the other day i mean twoorthreeweeksago i was riding under the bridge by the lake after the green belt ends as the sun was low and everything was kind of brownishgreyishblueish and there were three shadowy figures and i thought they were kyotes but closer they were three javelins and i didn't know if i should stop and wait for them to go along their way or zip by and hope i'd be invisible and i couldn't process it all fast enough and so i just skidded my way up to their feet and crossed my fingers i was invisible but no such luck and i scared #1 so bad he started scurrying as fast as possible like a cartoon trapped in the air and he was going so fast he turned sideways and i was super horrified and stopped moving at some point but wasn't sure when because i was so mesmerized and he finally makes it to his feet and launches himself up this nearly vertical embankment and i just know he's gunna snowball down and hit me. then #2 does the same run in place and loose his shit and turn on his side like a top or a plastic pass the pig and then up the embankment and then #3 and this is all happening so slow and i know i'm just about to be avalanched by javelins and wind up in the river and not be able to lift my bike out and the whole time all i could think was what if one of them has rabies then its def the end of me and i knew all along i'd die at the hands of a wild animal and how silly that it'd be what is essentially a slim and hairy desert pig but i'm clearly out numbered.

i should really get over rabies. its not very rational.
i should also write more. and get out the desert. at least for a little while.


and maybe stop being so dramatic

im an old broad

for my birthday sveta got me a kiwi gelatin cake and a bunch of yellow roses. they sang happy birthday in russian. i never really thought of how silly it is until they sang it in russian and vodik didnt really get it and he sang a solo that was kind of him just saying the same thing without breathing or smiling or taking his eyes off me. then he set the kitchen table cloth on fire.

cheating at this again

here i go again ripping off my own writing. i started writing in the hotel because i was exhausted and the light was so yellowy and i was so robbed of sleep that i looked at the silvery styrofoam balls hanging from the ceiling and the parade of obnoxious fakey folk costumed russians and this obnoxious comedy sized balalaika and i felt like maybe i had slept in a closet standing up or something and i kind of wondered if i'd ingested something. yellow lights will make you crazy. we had a pretty long night and i sang so loud the same chorus and then i woke and wandered back to where i belonged and we rushed downtown and were the first in line to see Lenin's dead body. Like disneyland or something. i also started writing to legitimize myself. i was holding all of my stuff in my hands and sleeping in a large leather chair. i wouldn't trust me if i saw me. im pretty sure i was sleeping with my face nestled in my own neck.

its this place, cosmos hotel, and its right across from the space museum which is, of course, sucks because , of course, I can't see the cosmosabaki like I wanted and there's a vitamin conference and everyone is wearing black pleather heel boots and drinking protein shakes and it smells like hard boiled eggs. and i hate hard boiled eggs.
oh and its also a casino. the hotel i mean. lights and jackpot noise and everytime my eyelids get too heavy that same guy is still at that same machine and he just doesnt have a soul anymore. and olympic swimmers are here and they keep sitting next to me and keep talking about buying houses and doing commercials. maybe one of them will maybe marry me. the funnest lot are the japanese and their trainer has a white board on his room that says Japantrainer but of course i read it Japanther and got overly excited and tried to peek in and succeeded eventually and wished i hadn't and felt uncomfortable.
oh and there's a hanging circles sculpture of the solar system sort of in blue and purple styrofoam balls the size of tractor wheels and everything is bathed in this sickly yellow light and my face hurts.
i can officially sleep anywhere. today: face up one boot on my suitcase one dangling kind of off the chair face up and surrounded by 13 year old russian girls singing and my purse in my armpit.
and i still love you. and by you i mean moscow.
oh and i just found a really heavy silver bobbypin in my hair and i just dont know where it came from. russia's getting confusing.

im not thatthat obsessed with the space dogs (theres a movie called that and i dont mean the movie) and im not really even into Japanther but i mean they're both kind of interesting. especially when they're in russia.

reading disorder

i think i maybe liked moscow a tad bit better than st.petes even though that girl suggested that i shove my train ticket down my shirt so no one would steal it. yeah, a tad bit better. now that the sun isnt showing up things are more monotonous and im only going to halfway halfass this post. because its pretty much a message that i sent to bradley after reading his bradley oliver blog and he likes it and his taste level is pretty refined so ima spit it out again.

we were staying at this really gross {nice but super trashy} hotel called cosmos that had all these flashing lights and was next to the cosmonaut musuem featuring the stuffed deceased cosmonaut dogs {which was of course closed for renovation like everthing else in russia of course}. but anyway a large group of international olympic swimmers was also staying there and we were looking for our coordinator irina and we passed a room with a handwritten sign in english and japanese and i read it too fast and read "Japanther" and was all at once confused and excited and passed by the room several times very slyly trying to take a peek until i finally spied inside a japanese man lying naked face down on his bed and then another japanese man in jockey underwear and i think the one was giving the other a massage because it makes the most sense realised "Japanther" actually read "Japanesetrainer." they both made eye contact with me but nothing happened. the end.

i really wanted to see the cosmonaut sabaki Belka and Strelka real real bad and who would have thought that the cosmos hotel is directly adjacent to the cosmonaut museum. there's a rather beautiful sculpture of a rocket launching against the sky and when the sunset the light hit it right and it glistened. and then the moon came out and the cosmos hotel lit up. like they have flashing lights all over it. i was a little scared the show might keep me up or give me horrid nightmares or the other kinds of bad things that happen with flashing lights. none of that happened. i slept like a baby. although the carpet in all the other floors was space themed and i believe the furniture was metallic. ours wasn't. some vomity color carpet i believe and the furniture looked like it was bought at a yard sale. and the door shocked us every time we opened it.
i also just looked up the cosmonaut sabaki and figured i would share about about animals in space that i looked at. a monkey was the first animal in space. i mean they sent up fruitflies, but i just dont think that counts. The first was Albert the second and he died on impact. Besides dogs the USSR sent up mice, guinea pigs and frogs. And then they decided to send a tortoise in orbit around the moon. The french sent a rat and then two cats, one of which died. And thats my bookreport on animalsinspace. I dunno, i kind of think its interesting about these animals in space and "first spiderweb in space" and things. one night my fake dad talked about the theory that america never went to the moon. and then he said something awkward about black people. like most dinners.

so this is winter

ive been slacking. for alongtimenow. its because sometimes my ears feel like they're burning from the drum out and sometimes i forget that i have toes and the wind is all made of snow and they sprinkle sand on the park paths instead of salt and you cant tell that there were once stairs their until you sink in the better half of your leg and the first time i tried out my snowleggs i fell some 5 times. once i deserved for getting overly excited, twice was a freak fall {whenever i fall its usually really cartoonish; like i feel myself in the air for a split second and all my limbs everywhere and i have time to say oh brother or something like that in my head}, the third some fat dude laid me out, the forth some babushka chewed me out and the fifth some dog kissed my wounds and then promptly pissed on the ground next to me (next to me mind you, he was a way polite stray). and this is all a pretty big excuse.

my fake family has been sometimes forgetting to feed me and i cant tell if its a statement or a suggestion or if they just want to teach me what is a russian winter. like all the lights are off in the house and im thinking they'll come to my room and roll in a potato and i'll have to fight the cat for a raw potato dinner. its not that that bad but im awful grumpy when i havent been eating and then i move onto delusional and everything to me gets funny and thats just a bad idea in russia. some dude made eyes at me because i was giggling and you know what happens when some dudes make eyes at you. we went to this russian walmarty thing called OKAY. walmart back home gives me anxiety and so did this one but they have free samples of booze which is interesting but which i didnt partake in. i did, however, get some really great bargains. but i did, however, feel extremely dirty afterwards.




i was thinking about trying to write about moscow and some of the past weeks and budapest but we'll see what happens.

the end of an era

i almost lost my fingers today trying to eat ice cream.
goodbye to the sweetest taste of russia i suppose. but hello snows.

ruining sixteen year olds dreams of course

i left my hungry hostel house at 4 a.m. with my stupidbulkybag. and hungary is so well kept but all of the train stations are in primary colors and all the titles have too many j's and ii's and when primaries are lit that way like super market lighting and you dont sleep everybody feels a little bit drugged. maybe thats why they're so harmlessly sweet. we did go to a nightclub that was basically a highschool gym. and it was like a highschool dance. the bad kids were smoking in the back, akward boy and girl clumps, bad music only they were serving cheap beer in plastic cups. when i left the bathroom i saw a hungarian tripping examining the wall. i ought to go to hungary more if only for the airlines. only 2 hours long and a full vegetarian meal and they gave the vegetarian meal chocolate and 2 drink services and when was the last time you saw a matching barfbag and charted your flight the whole way and spoke in three different languages and not one bitter flight attendant and if you stay one saturday (no, i wasnt in on that but i ought to let you know) its 99 euros round trip which really isnt bad.

im in moscow by two with everything in my hands and i didnt buy a ticket because the online ticketer wants to charge you 96 euros for moscow to st. p. no thank you i will attempt to speak in broken russian. i talked to some girl in a beehive that was no help. and then to another one who also had a bee hive but was a help. they'll never smile at you but its the tone of their voice. but theres not a chair in that train station. and i witness the gay mafia in kofe haus. they combed eachothers beards and wiped eachothers chins and drank fancy coffees and cakes and smoked long cigarettes and a couple held hands and i was there for 6 and a half hours and so were they. and then im back at the station and im getting nervous because something seems off. and i switch platforms and dodge some leather jackets and then im in some strange backway with a broken train car and some old lady's selling a ton of plastic bags that say "MGM Grand" and another leather jacket is following way to close and im paranoid and loose him under a sidewalk underpass.

two girls help me realize that im at the wrong station and they tell me to tuck away my ticket and they say maybe i even want to shove it down into my shirt, you know, people here are different. and she takes me all the way to the new train station although we stop along the way to help a babushka carry some chairs which was her idea and she says she just thinks how she'd feel if she needed help. and then she negotiates with a security guard and he looks at me funny and i just dont know which kind of cop he is yet but he's straight, he shows me when he kicks some creep creeping up on my shoulder while the creep is "sleeping" and tells him he can sleep when he's dead so move on. best cop ive known in russia.

the ticket was all of 20 USDs. random selection open sleeping car and it leaves at 2 am. 12 hours for a train waiting in moscow. and i get to my car. girls in russia wear heels and spot on makeup and hair and proper manners and cross their legs. and i help a kid unfold the top bunk held up by utility chains and he says thanks and then looks and realizes im a girl. and they all do and they're wide eyed. and one's got an earring and one's listening to rap and ones reading lord of the rings. they're all probably 15 maybe 14. and im ruining all their wonderful ideas about girls. i am going to wear these clothes to sleep and wear them in the morning and i am wearing tights where you can see my dirty toes. and i am paranoid enough to sleep with my shoes underneath the bundle of my coat under my pillow and with my purse still looped around my shoulder and clutching my passport just incase the guards come to check again. and my hair is still wet from the hungarian bath the night before and i do sleep in a crumpled ball against the window against my pillow.

why me?

i know low-fi is getting way cool but why did somebody steal my CD player?

supa sweet

speaking of really sugary sap stories and that kind of thing my card hasnt showed up and i have about $20 total in my pocket and i leave for moscow in a little bit and im actually kind of a tiny bit worried about all of this and today some lady on the metro totally made my day without even looking at me so there.

people dont smile on the street in russia. no really. and anytime they did it mostly just makes you completely worried and scared and hold your stuff a little tighter. like this serial smiler in the metro and he smiles at sarah and i with his gums and wild crazy eyes. and keeps doing it. like that girl with the curly hair in the cafe. and she just kept smiling and turning her head to follow me and did she want some kind of connection and maybe was she trying to make eyes with me and it just was an alarming kind of smile i suppose. everytime i hear someone speaking english i just assume we're best friends. in one of my worst rush hours when my hand got wedged up someone's small intestine or something i say this couple. they're both wearing backpacking stuff and northface jackets and he has the kind of face you get when you get shoved into the metrocar and get your hand wedged into someone's scrotum and someone's got their armpit nestled in the nape of your neck and he's swearing up a storm and his face is just fed up. best friend. and i make eye contact with the two and give them my biggest best american girl smile. and they're eyes get the size of saucers and they both snap their eyes to the floor and i can hear their heads screaming GYPSY.

and then theres this little lady on the metro and she gets on with these pizza boxes tied with string. i dont think they were for pizza. probably baked goods maybe. and shes beaming. and closing her eyes and theres this creep in a leather jacket next to her and she's just closing her eyes and glowing. shes totally imaging opening that box. and just starring at those baked goods. and setting them on a plate and staring at them. and bringing in her whole family so proud and just staring at them. and thinking of how good they might taste and just staring at them and glowing. and the sleazy stops slackjaw staring at sara and i and starts checking out the baked goods. and thinking about just staring at them. and just starts beaming.

how im hungary

this popped up when i searched budapest on youtube. and i liked it. and i'm (okay so my t's and i's arent dotted so knock on wood) going from moscow to buda sunday and leaving morning thursday. and i like it. and i better like it.