rememberance and all that

time off for rememberance day, just enough to catch up and confirm i’m still alive. schedule change and generally preferring not to think about my life at the moment have made sure that i don’t update often…there are things going on…but now that i’m in my late evening post-nap slightly hysterical stage i.e. light-headed and pumped full of the new lady gaga video, maybe it’s not the best time for an update? well too bad.

since beginning of october i’ve been trying to place my writing time in the morning, i.e. i meet yael at ‘our town’ every day before work (7-9) and we have coffee and write…and bitch about ‘current events’ and about our own procrastination processes, and despair over the  chit-chat and idiosyncrasies of the  particular guy  sitting every damn morning in the armchair next to us  (he is kinda insane; so are we, but  hey, this is my diary not his, so shut up.)  really, this morning writing thing has been fun…for one, it makes sure i  am not late for work,because i’ve been already up and stretched and all that by the time i need to start.  secondly,  it will be good  writing material for later  on. i’m not kidding. [on one of the very first days  where the patterns were already clear: insane guy/air conditioning blowing in my face/ cranberry muffins/latte and hot chocolate art/rain -  i remembered  a diane diprima snippet i had read long long ago in the  beat reader about one whole  long winter in new york when she was  sitting in an armchair in her pad  staring at the ceiling eating only oreos.  it has that kind of vibe, when a thread exists that is not really...leading somewhere...but it's  a spider-webby  journey of its own.]

yael moved, and her new place feels good. what i liked best about going there (twice, of which one on unloading day is the sudden view of the house, the corner/lawn…maybe because it’s a corner and the place stands out, who knows the crazy connections my mind can make? but yeah. (i think i was insisting of picking my own small corner inside a nook in the living room…and my sticky note on the fridge. all these things.)

i refuse to think about moving.

halloween went by, no big fuss, thanksgiving was very good and home-y (dinner at sonia z’s, with pablo and her brother and elena – chicken instead of turkey, but the best chicken ever!!!!) and so was elena’s b’day this weekend (dance mixed tapes, three types of home-made muffins and borscht) and…i dunno, two rainy locutions…one poetry bash at the writers’ festival (carol ann duffy!!!! mild freakout pre- and  post-reading about getting to see freakin’ carol ann duffy! yael saw john irving but, oh well.) also, elizabeth had a concert at railway club which i sat through mostly chatting with lora in between acts and drinking cranberry juice, which (= the drinking of juice on a night out) i found hilarious and absolutely the way to go.

adam’s album is coming out soon and i’m glad i can legit like it. it’s been a mad ride, and great learning experience in case i ever want to do a ph d in fan communities, twitter impact, acronyms or slash fiction. otherwise, it’s taken up my evenings in a fuzzy pleasant fashion, occasionally exhilarating, for which i…ok, no comment.and there were a couple of mad mornings @6 and a night i didn’t sleep very well, when each of the singles leaked, and then again when the album snippets leaked. i…”have a lot of feelings”, okay? there are three or four songs there (or more) that i like, period. [<3 LINDA PERRY AND LADY GAGA AND ALISAN PORTER.] now i’m watching the chart climbing.

in obsession-related news: nobel peace prize = hahahaha. nobel literature prize (herta muller) =….mmmm, never heard of her? is that bad? US healthcare: wow. good luck with the senate vote, folks. US local elections: the saddest i was that night was probably about the democrats losing virginia – the maine gay marriage thing was still undecided but yeah – sad. just wait for the old generation to die and the kids to get to voting age. which again brings me to: i don’t know what’s happening in my own country. WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING IN ROMANIA? HELP.

i am taking french classes and not really sure how much i’m improving. i mean on the one hand i do my devoir and that. and i attempt to speak in sentences and be a goody-two-shoes above average student. but currently being enrolled just gives me an excuse to not step up the grammar individual study (fucking using l’imparfait and the other stupid pefect simple which i seriously can’t grasp, which they have in all literary texts for narrative purposes). yes, i am disappointed w myself, but damn if i can handle it right now.

i read some amazing things. very short fiction anthology…short stories by nam le, who is awesome…a collection of feminist essays (hilarious), mostly off the batch i bought at the library book sale. also i got a pair of amazing jeans (= right now, my only pants that fit. sads.) and one of decent sunglasses at a clothing swap. and i got a leather jacket whose name is kitty. all these things have their own stories.

i’m doing alright in case you…just nothing is very deep right now. apparently i’m also avoiding talking about the NaNoWriMo project i’m writing on. it’s still just a matter of word count, of covering a lot of…space/time.

 

fiction dream = truth squared:)

the quote is from joan didion’s “the last thing he wanted”. from a character’s dream notebook. this captures more or less EXACTLY my very recent feelings re: leaving vs. staying.

“I seem to have had an operation [...] Unspecified but unsuccessful. I am ’sewn up back again’, but roughly, as after an autopsy. It is agreed (I have agreed to this) that there is no point in doing a careful job, I am to die, a few days hence. The day on which I am assigned to die is a Sunday, Christmas Day. Wynn and Catherine and I are in Wynn’s father’s apartment in New York, where the death will take place, by gas. I am concerned about how the gas will be cleared out of the apartment but no one else seems to be.

It occurs to me that I must shop for Saturday night dinner, and make it special, since this will be my last day alive. I go out on 57th Street and along Sixth Avenue, very crowded and cold, in a bundled-up robe. My feet are very loosely sewn and I am afraid the stitching (basting really) will come out, also that my face is not on straight (again as in an autopsy it has been peeled down and put back up), and getting sadder and sadder.

As i shop it occurs to me that maybe I could live: why must I die? I mention this to Wynn. He says then call the doctor, call Arnie Stine in California and tell him. ask Arnie if you need to die tomorrow. I call Arnie Stine in California and he says no, if that’s what I want, of course I do not need to die tomorrow. He can ‘arrange it for later’ if I want. I continue shopping, for Christmas dinner now as well as for Saturday night. I am euphoric, relieved, but still concerned that I cannot be sewn beck together properly. Arnie Stine says I can be but I am afraid I will fall apart while shopping, walking on my loose feet.

I am trying to be careful when I wake up.”

hooks: someone else’s postcard story here

Afrika, by Angele Hamel

” ‘I had a farm in Africa.’ Isn’t that a great first line? God, Isak Dinesen was a genius. I can still hear Meryl Streep saying it in the movie. ‘I had a farm in A-fri-KA, ‘ with the emphasis on the last syllable. Did you see the movie?”

Alan nodded.

“God, it was wonderful. Too long, maybe, but wonderful. But that first line. Pure poetry. God, it captures so much of the feeling. A-fri-KA. Boy, powerful stuff. I need another espresso.”

When Sharon was hyper like this, Alan imagined he could see the electric sparks coming off her. She would lean forward in her chair, her eyes would glow, and she would incessantly fluff her short, spiky hair with her fingers.

“Trust me,” he said, “you don’t need another espresso.”

Alan looked around the darkened cafe. He and Sharon were the only people not wearing black.

“Ohmygod!” Sharon said suddenly. “It’s after midnight! We’d better go.”

Alan got up from the table slowly and tossed some loose change on it while Sharon retouched her lipstick.

“It’s kind of been my mantra lately, ” Sharon said as they walked down the deserted street.

“What has?” Alan asked.

” ‘I had a farm in Africa’, ” Sharon reminded him. “It goes over and over in my head. i wonder what that means.”

“You want to go to Africa?” Alan offered.

“No, silly, it isn’t that. Anyway, so what’s the next line?” Sharon mused. ” ‘I had a farm in Africa…’ and then what?”

“I don’t know, ” Alan said. “It’s not a poem.”

“Ohmygod!” Sharon stopped still on the sidewalk, her eyes widened in horror.

“What?” Alan sighed.

“I forgot to read it. Ohmygod, I don’t believe it. How could that happen? I just realized I never actually read the book! I only saw the movie. Isn’t that criminal? I’ll never forgive myself. I’ve got to have it. I’ve got to have the book tonight.”

“Sharon, it’s midnight. There aren’t any bookstores open at this time of night.”

“I need to know.”

They walked a block in silence.

“I saw Debbie yesterday, ” Sharon said.

Alan nodded.

“She sais she saw you last week.”

“Yeah, at Robinson’s.”

“She said you were looking at skis.”

“Yeah.”

“Are we going skiing?”

“I might be, ” Alan replied.

“Were the prices good?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, ” Sharon said. “Have you talked to Marina lately?”

“No. Why?” Alan asked.

“No reason. Debbie thought you might.”

“Debbie doesn’t know everything. In fact,Debbie doesn’t know very much about anything, ” Alan said.

“Yeah, well, she is a bit of a gossip.”

They had arrived at Sharon’s door. “Do you want to come up?” Sharon asked. “For coffee.”

“I’ve had enough coffee, thanks, ” Alan said.

“It’s about loss, ” Sharon said suddenly.

“What is?”

” ‘I had a farm in Africa.’ It’s about loss, because of the ‘had’.”

“Maybe, ” Alan replied.

“Do you think it’s about loss?” Sharon asked.

“Maybe, ” Alan replied.

“I think it is, ” Sharon said.

Alan shrugged.

“I know it is, ” Sharon said.

seattle

i am cold and bored, so this will be sketchy. plus it’s so long ago. but just some bits:

- seattle =/= bellevue. i spent most of my seattle time in bellevue. lovely microsoft suburb, home of rich safe international population, i.e lots of romanians and indians (= “from india”. yes there is still confusion as to what i mean when i say ‘indian’. blame karl may.)

- bellevue has lovely high-rise buildings. all sprouted within this past year. fills you with hope for humanity. i’m thinking of toning the sarcasm down otherwise i won’t be able to finish this post. ok: high-rises are not bad. one of them even looked cute. the dark glassy look.

- bellevue also has a nordstrom. i mean, lots of stores in that mall, but nordstrom is from seattle.

- bellevue has an awesome cinema. biggest i’ve seen, which is not much (= bigger than tinseltown. oh well) – but i saw “inglorious basterds” there!!! am i not the epitomy of cool?

moving on to seattle: what i saw:

- pike place market/waterfront. yes better than granville island. it’s so big. and colorful. it’s the equivalent of turning water street into a maketplace. flower pots/arrangements hanging from poles. all the usual stuff. eating places//honey and bluberries//souvenirs//totem poles//people lying on the grass//horribly big pigeons tearing apart mcdonald’s paper bags. you know. oh – lovely kids with weird hairdos. overall, big fun. pity there’s a highway between the market and the water.

- SAM – the art museum. isn’t it just awesome that they call it sam? we wanted to see all the old collections, and the exotic ones. seriously, almost all native american art in there was salish – wut is this. they must have good PR. wait, i had some nuggets from the museum visit. yes: * andrew wyeth memorial (i think) exhibition – i knew his helga but not much else. like it!!! so perfect and contained. * laurie anderson’s voice on an audio tape for one of the collections – who cared about the artifacts any more? i was listening to laurie anderson!!! * i contributed a piece of paper to an yoko ono ‘thing’ i.e. collaborative object. fun! * “mannerism is the postmodernism of renaissance”. true or false, art ppl??? * african golden rings and the meanings of the motifs – wow – there was a ‘bird looking back’ one, and a peanut one * in aboriginal cultures the period of mourning after a close person’s death is called “sorry business”.

- space needle. there was an indian wedding at the restaurant below us. we ate hagen daasz on deck. haha we maybe spent half an hour there after half an hour in line. whatever: touristic objective – check.

- amazing futuristic looking building of ‘experience music’- well it was closed when we got there. have pictures of the outside walls though. epic.

- alki beach. this must be where photo people go to take pictures for the standard seattle postcard. in retrospect, i fail to understand how we could laugh for ~ an hour at a poor ‘china shipping line’ ship, full of chinese merchandise obviously spelling doom for america. but we did. we followed it come into the harbor, escorted by a small (customs?) boat. we made up scenarios with thousands tiny people hiding in all those boxes. etc. not very original? it was funny ok

- candied apples in chocolate with all sorts of caramel strawberries et co. adornments. hell expensive, but once in a lifetime -

- i will never drive in north america if i can help it. given my temper and scatterbrain, it would be hell.

fun timeline

apr 29 – hand in thesis

apr 29- may 20 – moping post-thesis/ waiting for potentially interesting guy to call. (in case you’re curious about that development: he doesn’t. end of story)

may 20- rest of summer and continuing: OMG ADAM LAMBERT

ADAAAAM

(?   !    ?  !   ? yes, i know, wtf)

july 31st – start collecting papers for extension of stay in canada (realize i could send application in same day if only i had a credit card. shrug.)

aug. 5 (ok, there was the long weekend in between) – papers collected

aug 6 – send application

aug 7- fuck! application is incomplete! have to wake up early to catch human person on phone at CIC, with instruction on how to send the missing paper; afternoon =send missing paper. breathe.

aug 10-17 – early mornings try to call CIC and find out if file is complete/when they’re dealing with it; fail to engage with humans

aug 17 – human on the phone from CIC (= immigration canada) says file will take around one more month in line, as at the moment they’re just opening files arrived first week of july. “please inquire again one month from now.” same human says she doesn’t know if a work permit would allow me to work in quebec. she says call quebec and gives me a number: it’s robots!

aug 17  – half an hour later – i give notice at my job

aug 18-30 – i tell everyone (including creepy person on the bus, AEGEE friends, random chat interlocutors, regular customers and co-op neighbours) bits of my sad story.

aug 19 – plane ticket bought for cluj

aug 19-28 – bits of random packing: bunching up clothes i want to give up; tearing papers; inventorying books. making lists.

aug 20-23 – i take online quizzes to determine my points for immigration from romania to canada/quebec (i have different scores for different quizzes. at least some of them look hopeful. i need french. i need a job offer.)

aug 27 – last day at work

aug 28- morning leave for seattle

aug 30 – arrive portland

aug 31 – email from ef. telling me work permit arrived in mail

sept 1 – i want to go back to cluj and visit; but then i want to return. this is plan A. i like it.

sept 1/2 – back in vancouver; plans A through D written down neatly. work permit turns out to be for 3 YEARS! SHIT!

sept 2 – morning – phone CIC. human voice!!! realize once i leave canada i need a visa for re-entry. complicated. but visa is formality. phone quebec. the person in quebec does not know whether i’m allowed to work in quebec or not. suggests i call CIC. i’m like, forget about it! i have fun day out, all serene and shit.

sept 2 – evening – mum agrees with anything, as long as i go home ; i say i’d have to resign from sincai, she’s like ok, whatever. then suddenly : “your father’s not very happy here” BOOM

sept 2/3/4 – argue; break for sleep; argue; break for lunch; argue; break = can’t sleep; argue; break for a nap (nightmares); argue.

sept 4/5 night: sort of an ultimatum. “flip the coin” moment. i do not flip the coin. because i do not fucking need to flip a coin. ok?

sept 5 – morning – yes, i catch another human voice at CIC. human voice says yes, an open work permit allows you to work in quebec. any other questions you had? NO! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!

sept 5 – evening – write resignation email to school/send it.

sleep

eat. sleep.

walk. eat. read women’s mags. throw torn papers. sleep.

sept 8 – got shitty job back.

the future is ours.

STAY POSITIVE

= one more week of holiday. actually staycation but who cares

= no jet lag

= cancellation of all possibly teary goodbye drinks&such : replacement with non-teary non-goodbye drinks

= sonja gets to buy me the hat! yes i hereby demand the hat. hat hat hat hat hat

= writing!! readings!! writers’ festival (i get to see richard ford !!!! <3)

= montreal ‘10. wait: matt in montreal ‘10

cluj

this is what i wrote exactly one year ago today – i found it while tearing papers because i’m procrastinating packing for seattle:

fried eggplant smell means the same as last year the slanted light above those streets behind ‘arta’ the smallish statues and one morning i saw yellow leaves in a tree from far away i thought they were flowers this is how oblivious one year has made me of course mornings go colder mist by the river and the dew in the grass layering layering my students are planning careers one of them’s working at the new mall they built where we used to walk by the lake last night we went to the swings after dark to drink cola light and sing but we’d forgotten the lyrics to all songs this is how you know you’re being erased

you had time

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tDXjyTBKs8&feature=related

You Had Time
How can I go home with nothing to say? I know you’re going to look at me that way, and say,’What did you do out there? What did you decide? You said you needed time, and you had time.’

You are a china shop, and I am a bull.You are really good food, and I am full. I guess everything is timing. I guess everything’s been said. So I am coming home with an empty head.

You’ll say, ‘Did they love you or what?’ And I’ll say, ‘They love what I do. The only one who really loves me is you.’ And you’ll say, ‘Did you kick some butt?’ And I’ll say, ‘I don’t really remember – but my fingers are sore and my voice is, too.’

You’ll say ‘It’s really good to see you.’ You’ll say ‘I missed you horribly.’ You’ll say ‘Let me carry that, give that to me.’ And you will take the heavy stuff and you will drive the car, and I’ll look out the window and make jokes about the way things are.

How can I go home with nothing to say? I know you’re going to look at me that way and say, ‘What did you do out there? What did you decide? You said you needed time, and you had time.’ You had time.

a bend in the river

why do i still insist on trying to write, when v.s. naipaul already said the only things i had to say, and so much more?!?!? all i can do is try to not copy the whole book here, but to quote discriminately. but read it-read it-read it. oh.

*”I didn’t want to go back. not the first time. i didn’t think my heart could stand it. but the airplane is a wonderful thing. you are still in one place when you arrive at the other. the airplane is faster than the heart. you arrive quickly and you leave quickly. you don’t grieve too much.and there is something else about the airplane. you can go back many times to the same place. and something strange happens if you go back often enough. you stop grieving for the past. you see that the past is something in your mind alone, that it doesn’t exist in real life. you trample on the past,you crush it. in the beginning it is like trampling on a garden. in the end you are just walking on ground. that is the way we have to learn to live now.”

*”i thought when i went to england i would put all that behind me. i had no plans beyond that. the word ‘university’ dazzled me, and i was innocent enough to believe that after my time in the university some wonderful life would be waiting for me. at that age three years seems a long time – you feel that anything can happen. but i hadn’t understood to what extent our civilization had also been our prison. i hadn’t understood either to what extent we had been made by the place where we had grown up, made by Africa and the simple life on the coast, and how incapable we had become of understanding the outside world. we have no means of understanding a fraction of the thought and science and philosophy and law that have gone to make that outside world. we simply accept it. we have grown up paying tribute to it, and that is all that most of us can do. we feel of the great world that it is simply there, something for the lucky ones among us to explore, and then only at the edges. it never occurs to us that we might make some contribution to it ourselves. and that is why we miss everything.

when we land at a place like london airport, we are concerned only not to appear foolish. it is more beautiful and more complex than anything we could have dreamed of, but we are concerned only to let people see that we can manage and are not overawed. we might even pretend that we had expected better. that is the nature of our stupidity and incompetence. and that was how i spent my time at the university in england, not being overawed, always being slightly disappointed, understanding nothing, accepting everything, getting nothing. i saw and understood so little that at the end of my time at the university i could distinguish buildings only by their size, and i was hardly aware of the passing of the seasons.and yet i was an intelligent man, and could cram for examinations.”

*”you’ve talked a lot [...] about those girls from East Africa in the tobacco kiosks, selling cigarettes at all hours of the night. they’ve depressed you. you say they don’t have a future and that they don’t even know where they are. i wonder whether that isn’t their luck. they expect to be bored, to do what they do. the people i’ve been talking about have expectations and they know they’re lost in london. i suppose it must be dreadful for them when they have to go back. this area is full of them, coming to the centre because it is all they know about and because they think it’s smart, and trying to make something out of nothing. you can’t blame them. they’re doing what they see the big people doing.”

yay pity party. two in one, crushed as a person and as a writer. thankyouverymuch, sir.

vancouver says goodbye…to summer

- 2 days at wreck beach- one swimming and suntanning with lora, the other a picnic plus hardcore gathering blackberries w/elena &sonia

- when i was the most *heartbroken* – 2-3 afternoons, straight off work – i’d just go to jericho and sit next to a log and watch the ocean and try to write. one day i had a huge coffee thermos. omg, energy drink buzzz, by the way!

- sam , on and off commercial one sunny day

- sandwiches and milkshakes with yael&co. on their ‘porch’

- salads and indigequeer shorts with lora one night – walking alone downtown at night, never fails to…impress me. it’s so alien.

- twilight. with e. and lora. and commentary by ovidiu online

- romanian dinner w/ nadia at ‘transylvania’ restaurant. haha, i couldn’t have left without it. (also, when nadia returned from europe she was *accidentally* on the same plane/almost same class w/ matt damon!! i freaked out!!)

- planning. forever smiling and planning. explaining to people that i’m not sad. except i’ll have to give a lot of books away. oh well, bygones

- following: goodbye parties (trying not to think about) aaand my last US trip for a while. what’s not to like??

weekends and windows

i.e. What i’m looking forward to in Cluj, now that i know i’m going back:

- yes: weekends.

-and windows.

- summer holidays.

- supercheap trips to awesome places in Europe (do not contradict me at this point or i might cry: London-Berlin (Gotha)-Dublin-Belgrade-Istanbul, and later Norway

-drama with the kids. basically, yeah: the kids.

- people to tell stories about Vancouver to