fair game

aprilie 28, 2008

this is exactly what i asked for, or the beginning of it

but oh-my-god what they are doing to him oh-my-god what they are doing to him oh-my-god what they are doing to him oh-my-god what they are doing to him oh-my-god what they are doing to him

and oh-my-god how he can’t handle it well

i’d take it for him, i would, i guess i would. but no, nope, to each their own misery. ahahaha, supporters of the loser, welcome back to the fold. we’re ahead and we’re handwringing, waiting for the sky to drop. locked in a country, basement, headache, penilessness, loneliness – why doesn’t the sky drop already so we can be done with it? we the people, the non-deservers, the kossaks&co? this morning i was being very pro-progressive, berating obama and daring him to go back to DKos and patch it up with his fervent base – silly, foolish. we’ve been fucking duped all along. another four months of my life i walked on willingly with a paper bag on my head.

it’s like when your kid steps into a shooting saloon, and you wanna scold him, but then you see the blood from the wound. what the fuck do you do?

if someone kills my american dream, it will have probably been today.


the non-kindness of the non-strangers

aprilie 25, 2008

i know it’s freakin self-evident, but here it goes again: nothing coming from a friend (or family, duh) can be free – because connections = ties are the opposite of freedom. my personal (i.e. doesn’t have to be yours) next step is to ask: is it less kind if it’s not ‘free’?  well, it’s just more tainted, more of a burden to carry. i love my smell of freedom in the evenings by the ocean at point grey, sweet surprising scents of flowers i’ve never seen before and could never feel entitled to speak about. freedom is cluelessness, amnesia, alzheimer’s. brace up, people i love: living is a lose-lose. love, memories, lessons, attachments, duties, common sense, decency, and any break from them will follow and smother y’all, – free or not – all the same.

the kindness of strangers

aprilie 25, 2008

someone stayed with me while i bruised my legs all over from the pedals of a bike i was trying to ride, which someone else had lent me. in return i washed dishes and i spoke romanian for a minute and peeled a mango for salad.

someone helped me file my taxes – which is pure pain in the ass, and would cost an immigrant hours of her life and hair torn off, honestly; even if most of what had to be done was put a 0 (= my income) in about 50 boxes.

someone typed an improvised resume for me, and waited in the street til i went in and left it on the manager’s desk.

people i met at some social gathering message me on facebook and email me and invite me to free events. (i lose count of inventorying, and i know answering emails back is not enough to qualify as kindness).

yes i got two hugs today, from someone i know. it’s someone who hugs people on a general basis, but in my most rigid frame of mind it wouldn’t occur to me to avoid her when she comes forward, with her arms spread – yes giving me the space to signal no.

easter is the crappiest holiday ever, and i’m glad no one here knows it’s my easter. theirs went by pretty mundanely. somehow i feel compelled to send a shoutout to accidental acquaintances and ask them to come for a weekend picnic on wreck beach, or at point grey. (not mentioning easter.) but i know i won’t, cause it’s just not me. or is that the reason?

the last time i gave someone something (except for time) must have been on another continent, for sure. except for the spare change, which only makes me more ashamed. (you have the kindness, or you don’t- probably?)

waiting for lora in front of the army&navy on carrall and abbott (that street is becoming a huge part of something i’m not sure of), a woman stopped by me, and waited too, for a while. blond, ponytailed, the lot, in a top and the normal tracksuit pants. her face a bit splotchy, but nothing too strident. and then i fucking saw her arm for a second. the rest of the time she was there, i tried to look at her, but not at the arm. i tried to not ignore her. this is not an apology.

with lora and the bikes, we crossed peoples pigeon park through the middle. i waited to turn onto cordova before i said, with fury, „in my country at least there are many more roofs than here”. is this hypocrisy?

back on my west van street, with my backpack, a father and two about 4 year-old daughters cross my way. „daddy, look!” i am an amazement all of a sudden. „she’s got a backpack!” – „yes, just like you!” he says to his youngest, who indeed has a mini pack, and she turns around to show me. „hello, little backpack person”, i say, and shake her hand. her sister comes forward: „i’ve got a doll” she tells me, very solemn, and so i shake hands with her and the doll, smile once more and move on. „where is she going, daddy?” – „to her home. just like we’re going to our home.”

„everyone is essentially alone.”

feeling eastern-european

aprilie 23, 2008

sure hope it’s just a stage, but everything i can think of ‘s in here:

” we are the needy relatives, we are the aborigines, we are the ones left behind – the backward, the stunted, the misshapen, the down-and-out, the moochers, parasites, conmen, suckers. sentimental, old-fashioned, childish, uninformed, troubled, melodramatic, devious, unpredictable, negligent. the ones who don’t answer letters, the ones who miss the great opportunity, the hard drinkers, the babblers, the porch-sitters, the deadline-missers, the promise-breakers, the braggarts, the immature, the monstruous, the undisciplined, the easily offended, the ones who insult each other to death but cannot break off relations. we are the maladjusted, the complainers intoxicated by failure.

we are irritating, excessive, depressing, somehow unlucky. people are accustomed to slight us. we are cheap labor; merchandise may be had from us at a lower price; people bring us their old newspapers as a gift. letters from us come sloppily typed, unnecessarily detailed. people smileat us, pityingly, as long as we don’t suddenly become unpleasant. as long as we do not say anything strange, sharp; as long as we do not stare at our nails and bare our teeth; as long as we do not become cynical and wild.”

(gyorgy konrad, „to cave explorers from the west” – quoted by slavenka drakulic in „how we survived communism and even laughed” – this is what i’m reading, from lora)


aprilie 23, 2008

no real beans, but i would just like to know who in this world gets to my humble blog by googling matt sarnecki. it’s the kind of question that sticks into my brain like a glass shard, because there’s really no relevance…and also makes me feel damn guilty for smth i’m not (or am i?), i.e peddling matt’s name, as if i should have let matt know every time i mention him (which turns out to be also impossible, since i mention him quite alot everywhere. anyway – )

ya, so you start smth without thinking, but then it gets you to think and retrace your steps. it’s smth i dislike about semi-anonymous blogging. a shade of dirt on my basement window to the world: should i start replacing all names by initials? should i stopit altogether? why? why? why? how much does it say about me anyway and how much does anyone care? no idea. i’ll just go and take a thorough shower.

peoples pigeon park (aha, that’s more like it)

aprilie 21, 2008

well what d’you know. after a full whole half-day pummelling the pillow and chasing people on the internets (more proof that when you’re looking for X you’ll find Y, Z and their mother) i went to ef’s concert on the Drive. more important than the concert per se (as usual) was what i learned there – how to use chopsticks. hurray. you know the frustration and puzzlement when one second before your hand couldn’t move the right way, and was just clenched there pushing idiotically, and this next instant IT JUST HAPPENS, but what’s worse is that the fact it’s happened – „you mastered the skill” – doesn’t make you less moronic in your eyes. you still don’t know how it’s done, and that’s what you were after, you fucking wanted to know how it’s done.

well. round midnight i headed downtown with lora, which was insane but nevermind, cause it wasn’t the usual bus route for me; however, it proved totally worthy. lora lives on cordova (i knew that) bout two blocks away from my bus stop on pender street, and also two blocks away from PIGEON PARK. yeah right. we were on her bus, when i saw it written on a plaque on a building: „pigeon park (something)” and i almost cried „WHAT IS pigeon park?”. lora, obviously not understanding my excitement, said „it’s…a place…right here”. – „like a bus stop, or…?” – „it’s a park. right here, look.” and there it was, my corner of the street, better-looking than in the daylight, still with the pink trees, and still with people there in the shadows. the graffitti reads as above, not as my impressionable mind saw it the other day. as we got off right there, in the street, a man and a woman, bird people, were fighting over some object: „you’re gonna lose it. no, i told you, you’re gonna lose it” he kept saying , and she was grunting, grabbing at his arm. he tried to walk on, fending her off with the one arm, smoking with the other hand (obviously). we crossed, and lora went home, and i went to my bus. i was so grateful she didn’t ask the usual „you sure you’re gonna be alright?”

owing facebook big time for the sweet sweet lie

aprilie 21, 2008