[21 Feb 2008|03:27pm] oh what the fuck post comment

[06 Feb 2008|09:58am] I awoke this morning wondering when the last time it was this warm in February. If this isn't evidence for some kind of 'global warming' period, then I don't know what is. Sitting in my backyard this morning, sipping tea and listening to the rain from underneath the awning over my back door never felt so good before. I could see the mist hovering just above the forest floor, as if the naked trees had just stepped out of the shower. Several birds that forgot to migrate slew insults and chirps at one another from faraway branches while squirrels chased each other from trunk to trunk. The nine of swords seems to be slashing at me from somewhere deep inside. Is this a relapse or just a phase? I suppose I'm the only one who can control that. post comment

[04 Jan 2008|02:02am] in the midst of writing anything these days i often find the solution within the case stated, therefore any kind of "what the fuck" rant, rave, or tirade won't happen. When did I figure that out? (India, perhaps?) It's 2 AM, I can't sleep (hello, livejournal?) Everything seems to be so much easier to think about when a computer screen and a blank textbox are several clicks, a few keys (and hopefully a few miles) away: driving late and old music are better for contemplation. I suppose I expected everything to be much, much easier now, but more and more i'm finding it's a "same shit different day" kind of thing. Maybe I'm just not over myself yet, or the stitches on old wounds aren't fully healed (will the ever be?), or maybe so far this paragraph is full of cliched phrases (and not to mention a load of crap) often used in these scenarios. I don't know why I haven't deleted it, or chose to comment on why I'm choosing not to delete it. I guess they're the only words i can glue together right now that won't cause me to lose myself into insomnia by writing more and more and more and more and more and more and mo... I think you get the idea. So for my sake and yours (whoever you are) I'm just going to move on. The main point of this Chautaqua (am I using/spelling that correctly?) Is that expectations are a load of shit. Nearly any and every expectation, be it a hope or a fear that I've ever formed in the 7 1/8" circumference of a skull has proved to be complete, or near complete fabrication. Nothing is what I'd hoped for, nothing is what I've feared. (More importantly, I need to hope for nothing, and I need to fear nothing). Bottom line(s): Expect nothing, assume nothing. Love everything and everyone with unconditional patience. Shut up and listen. Enough. post comment

[10 Dec 2007|09:56am] Ashen cold, Blue hands, Smell of smoke, Small dogs. Gray rain morning, threat of falling. No ice yet, but Green Tides are gone. oh no, oh yes. Much different now, Thank God. post comment

As of October 22, 2007 [23 Oct 2007|07:55pm] Greetings one and all from Dharamsala, I am here for the next week living with a Tibetan family, taking sitar classes and possibly transcendental meditation. to fill you in, India is a phantasmagorical mix of cultures, religions, and lifestyles that bear the equal and opposite to those I've come across in America (so far). I have decided that "phantasmagorical" is my new favorite word, as it seems to describe my experience in India so well. i hope i'm spelling it right. Phantasmagorical,(adj.) characterized by fantastic imagery and incongruous juxtapositions. either way, since leaving Rajasthan, I've grown to like India a lot more. From what I've heard, village life in the desert state is the "real india" and was a bit difficult to adjust to, after having arrived straight from 3 days in Delhi to two weeks in the middle of nowhere. I approached it with an open, positive mind, and no expectations whatsoever (because, what can i even attempt to expect in situations like those?) and had a very open, positive experience. Luckily, though, we got out of the village in two weeks, and went back to Delhi for a day, and then on to Bodhgaya, the place where Buddha attained enlightenment almost 2,500 years ago. We took a 5 day vow of silence and spent the days taking courses on Tibetan Buddhism from a silly, slightly cynical Australian Monk who goes by Venerable Lobsang Namgyel, though I couldn't tell you what his birth name was. Classes were a mix of serious discussions and Australian humor...so entertaining, nonetheless. We weren't allowed to speak, save for an hour of discussion groups, as well as during class to ask a question or so, which was difficult, but the five days passed all too quickly. We spent a fair amount of time in meditation, Tibetan style, and I've been doing it roughly twice a day since leaving. I'm really starting to see things differently, as I slowly start to live more in the moment, rather than roughly three seconds in the future, and four years in the past at the same time. On our last day, as we broke the silence, we went to the Bodhi tree, which is a cutting of the original tree where Buddha became enlightened (so, genetically the same tree, but physically, not.) After Bodhgaya, we took an overnight train to Varanasi from where I have just arrived. Varanasi was absolutely AWESOME. we were on the southernmost ghat along the Ganges, called Assi Ghat. It isn't very tourist-ey, but the tourists that come are really interesting backpackers who have many stories to tell about places we've been, places we have yet to go, and places we aren't planning on going to...yet. We frequented several restaurants between internships, and made friends with the owners and waiters. They were sad to see us go. On our last morning there, three of us, including my group leader, went bathing in the Ganges at 6:30 AM, and then worked at the Mother Theresa Home for the Destitute for a few hours. Both were humbling experiences in theirown rights. I've been learning sitar for the past two weeks, and bought one from a man named Nithai Chandra Nath for a really good price. He's been making sitars for almost fifty years, and wouldn't have sold it to me directly, so my group's contact, a guy named Vinay, was able to get it for me. with the case, it weighs about thirty pounds, though it's pretty light on its own, but it's still intact after two train rides and a five hour bus to Dharamsala. I'm glad I get to continue it here because it is a really difficult instrument to get a hang of, let alone begin to play, but it sounds beautiful. I may send it back to the states before I come home, but I may not, depending upon if my group decides to go to Nepal or not... We just arrived in Dharamsala yesterday, and it's pretty touristey, though not nearly as in-your-face as places like Jaipur or Delhi. We don't get the "hello, you come see my shop" nearly as often as we'd expect, because the Tibetans and Kashmiris who live here and run most of the shops are generally pretty well mannered, and, people come here to buy specific things, so it's really laid back. It's backpacker heaven, and there are a lot of hippies around here, but I survived boulder for a year, so a few hippies here and there couldn't hurt. So, just letting you all know I'm still alive and enjoying it very much. and, is anyone up for traveling the world with me in a few years? just a thought... post comment

as of September 29th, 2007 [23 Oct 2007|07:51pm] To answer a few questions: 1. Yes, I miss most of you, except for you, Sarah Biggart. I do not miss you at all. one bit. 2. Yes, I shaved my head. India is HOT 3. India is EXTREMELY diffferent but very awesome. It's difficult to go anywhere without getting stares or having someone try to sell you something, but I'm very happy here. Right now I am in Jaipur, but I have spent the last few weeks in Hong Kong, Delhi, and two villages a few hours out of Jaipur in Rajasthan that had rarely, if ever, seen Americans before. My group had been staying and working with an organic farming organazation called Morarka, which is centered in Jaipur but works with many rural villages and farmers to produce organic soil, vegetables, dairy products, among other things. It's really amazing what they do, but the process is too difficult and boring to explain, so just know it's pretty grass-roots, and I've been eating some of the best food I'll ever eat, and a whole lot of it. The first village we stayed in was Baghwara, and the second Katarathal, where I stayed three nights with an elderly Muslim couple who make a living off of making their own flour. My host "dad" showed me how he does it, and he makes about 8 rupees (a little less than 25 cents) per KG that he sells. Being Muslim meant they also ate meat, so I, unlike many of my good friends and group members that did homestays at Hindu households, got to eat goat meat (yum). My family was also fasting for Ramadaan, so they could only eat before and after sunrise, which meant breakfast was at 4:15 AM! Oh, and I'm forgetting the best part! the first night, we were having chai (clay, you'd be jealous at the amount of amazing chai i've been drinking), and finally my host mother said it was bedtime. We were sitting in their main room, which consisted of two small tables covered with light blue table cloths, which they then proceeded to push together to form a bed. My host mother then instructed me that I would be sleeping next to them on their sitting tables. Talk about being welcomed into the family! I've learned a lot about village life in India and how it differs from here, for instance things are a heck of a lot simpler and much more family oriented. Oh, and I was also told by one of my host family's friends that if I preached the Koran, I would never get sick. That was Allah's promise. Tomorrow I'm leaving early for Delhi, so I should be on the computer at least once, and then I'm off the next day for Bodh Gaya to do a heck of a lot of yoga and meditation, which I'm looking forward to. I'm learning Hindi but it's a tough language, and not at all Latin based, so it's a little difficult, but it's extremely interesting. I'm going to try and upload some pictures now, but if not, tomorrow. I sure hope this suffices as an update. Just letting you know I'm having an awesome time and despite how difficult navigating in such a foreign place can be, I cannot imagine anywhere else I'd like to be...just maybe with some of you. post comment

[30 Aug 2007|09:44am] Ryan Adams: great songwriter or greatest songwriter? I know for a fact that, if Easy Tiger were to have been released even a year ago I don't think I'd be really into it. But for some reason, I can't stop listening to it. post comment

[26 Aug 2007|12:34am] I AM ALIVE AND PENT-UP WITH BODILY FRUSTRATION. post comment

[17 Aug 2007|03:33pm] The horseflies have somehow managed to penetrate the wood, metal, and insulation that separates my room from the outside world. Constantly buzzing about as I attempt to take an overdue but unsatisfying siesta. They're impish and bothersome, landing on my legs here and there, causing me to twitch and scratch and swat. The sky is graying, threatening a late afternoon monsoon. post comment

[16 Aug 2007|10:35am] It's high time I was let back in your good graces. To be honest, I was worse when trusted. I'm a changed man, the old boy is gone and probably never coming back. post comment

[10 Aug 2007|02:01am] no combination of midnight snacks seem to be satisfying my growling stomach, aching with six full hours without food. i long to rest, but my organs, and my need for sustinence keep me awake. i'm in the process of quitting bad habits in preparation for an Indian fall, and I can already feel me crawling outside of myself, like i used to be. One last go-round, and then I'm out. post comment

[08 Aug 2007|12:38pm] What are my politics anymore? post comment

[07 Aug 2007|04:05pm] I'm sitting in my kitchen, hot as hell, listening to the call of the lonely tree frogs down at Old Maid's Pond, and the overlap of cicadas and crickets filling my back yard with music. I remember missing those sounds out west. The windy February mornings lashing my face, cold and sharp as I trudged further west to Sociology class. There's something to be said about the sounds of lazy afternoons in late summer. About books, drawings, guitars, and laughter. About sun-kissed faces and red skin. About the clinking of glasses, and the ocean breeze. It's times like these that often escape me, or pass by too quickly. As the days slowly grow shorter, I can only look forward to the din and cattle of the Delhi streets, but I will always be thinking of the cicadas in my back yard. 3 comments|post comment

[07 Aug 2007|03:07am] I'm sinking deeper and deeper into my body, and my body is sinking deeper and deeper into my pillow. Should distance keep us a part? Should I take this chance? post comment

[06 Aug 2007|12:15am] So here I am, back on the white couch in front of the TV. Starting and ending my days in front of a screen projecting mindless filth cannot be healthy, or support any sort of inspiration or creativity. I've read five books this summer, including Slaughterhouse V which I managed to finish in several hours. I've barely created anything worth showing. I blame television. post comment

[05 Aug 2007|11:37am] Television is such a terrible, horrible excuse for a distraction. It's not yet noon, I went to bed, stale-drunk, angry and restless at 4:30 this morning after a night of raised voices, cheap cigars, and ridiculous songs. I rub my face and take a deep inhale, breathing in the approaching high noon, the sticky August weather, and the ill-fitting hot tea. Rain would have been nice today; at least then work would be easier. I'm sick and tired. post comment

[04 Aug 2007|11:15am] One, two, three, four, five. Open, drop, sip, swallow. repeat. Multivitamin, Lexapro 10mG, Amoxicillin w clavuanate pot 875 mG, SMZ-TMP DS 800/160, Mefloquine 250 mG. Take with food, don't take Amoxicillin or SMZ-TMP with Typhoid vaccine. Avoid the sun, drink lots of water. They have me pilled up and shot up so I won't return with malaria, polio, typhoid, hepatitus (A or B), tetanus, or japanese encephalitis. I feel dizzy, woozy, lightheaded, and funny. I'm looking forward to Bodhgaya. post comment

[22 Jul 2007|04:00pm] J'adore juillet, mais maintenant, ma vie est un peu difficile (comme toujours, n'est-ce pas?) 2 comments|post comment

[06 Jul 2007|12:38pm] My greatest fear is myself, and what I'm capable of doing. The end. post comment

[05 Jul 2007|02:50pm] Forgive the pretentious lines of "poetry" that have appeared on hear as of late, the tone in which I write never seems to match up with the way I read myself later. Maybe I'm just being a little hard on myself, but I almost feel as though I'm writing from the perspective from a thirteen year old, though it never seems that way at the time. I suppose Live Journals are a bit immature, but I can't seem to get rid of this thing. Perhaps I'm just too disorganized; written, drawn copies of journal entries seem to get lost amidst the jungle that is my dwelling. I much prefer to draw about myself than to write about myself, but it seems lately that drawing takes a concentraion I cannot muster at this time. Just writing, flowing (with a half decent vocabulary) seems to make up for this lack of artistic inspiration. Or maybe I just despise my responsibilites: making something an obligation makes it tiresome until it's reduced to a bother. post comment

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