recently i decided that all the skinny jeans in my wardrobe might perhaps be lowering my sperm count. functionally this is something i take no particular issue - i'm not terribly keen on pregnancies and those closest to me know this very, very well (i'm looking at you, koala). as a condition, however, it is something totally different and it has caused me to reevaluate my wardrobe and my daily wearings. along with rediscovering my active-lifestyle roots and this, admittedly, thinly veiled previous excuse, i have found myself in a bit of a fashion/lifestyle paradox.
i should stop here and add a But. a healthy, well-rounded, enthusiastic But.
But, despite using the word paradox, i am completely happy. at one point i would have considered myself a hipster. at one point i would have considered myself a mindless outdoor enthusiast. neither fit and i have been rediscovering the magic of things before my time. (and now, since the title has appeared in the body, just like a novel, this entry should end - but it won't. sorry.)
henley t-shirts. herringbone trousers. birkenstock london clogs. a 1966 alfa romeo spyder. a 1973 lancia 2000 coupe. sure, in their times most of these things were complete rubbish. the cars couldn't have had more character but they also would have been hard pressed to be of poorer quality. most henleys and herringbone trousers are poorly cut and do less to make a gentleman look good than a broken bottle scar on the face from a bar fight.
and that phrase "in their times..." brings me to my point. i have found that it is possible to make a pair of birkenstock clogs look good in the 21st century. unlike my trusty old taupe suede arizonas, a sandal as exciting as a poorly stacked pile of rocks, these new londons of mine are rather special looking with decent trousers cleanly draping over the top. and, as far as comfort is concerned, they thrash my roughed up brown brogues seven ways to sunday.
i purchased my only henley t-shirt last year because angela told me she really liked them. never had i considered even trying one on before hearing this - they're too frumpy and plebeian, something a haggard old rancher would wear until the day he shot himself because of a freak early frost that ruined his crops for that last time. they're rarely flattering...until you find the right one. paired with nice trousers and those birks i was on about one ends up with a rather nice little sunday afternoon outfit. it's nothing i would consider taking out to dinner but then neither would i take that alfa on a cross-country trip without a support vehicle and a credit card with no limit.
but then that's not what we're talking about. we're not talking about driving across the states and we're certainly not talking about heading out to a ruth's chris. we're talking about being comfortable, confident and, most of all, very, very entertained. to bring a little smile into your life doesn't mean labeling yourself a hipster or outdoor junkie - it means discovering the magic of things in your time and sometimes that means leaving your time.
-e
pics n' things!
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
5.06.2009
3.03.2009
inspiration, university, skis
it requires a great deal of inspiration to continue through a prolonged 5th year of undergraduate studies. by this time in your college career you have either completely blown past the required 180 credits to graduate or you have swapped majors seven or eight times. the people in the registrar's office eventually tire of your questions and accusations and the career counseling center begins offering career counseling to their employees who have seen you countless times.
tired in big sky
one spends most of their 5th year in college swearing and drinking, two habits that have formed with vicious efficiency over the past four years. papers and studies get lost under dinner plates and friends and onlookers eventually begin to wonder why their friend (who is still in school) hangs out at the library: they never talk about schoolwork. they never talk about class. are they just creeping on the freshers? no, they are not. they are still in school, suffering through and hoping that this quarter or the next will be their last. either this or that the world will come to some fiery end.
spencer, crashed on his bespoke mattress system in byron's shed
inspiration alone can combat swearing and drinking for so long. eventually the white blood cells of everyday life breakdown and the virus begins to take over. once this process has begun it is nearly impossible to reverse. antibacterials such as nights out at the bar don't work anymore. this is, after all, a virus that we're talking about. a virus that has sat dormant and patient for the past four years is never keen on being dispatched by trifling distractions. you become lazy, angry with school and academia. work slows. there may even come a point where you don't care if all there is to sleep on is a box spring cot sans mattress so long as you're afforded peace and quiet.
line prophet 90s
ah, but there is hope. don't you remember how good it felt to go purge the system? to bootpack for 20 minutes up a run where you're rewarded with maybe four or five sweet turns? remember how good deep snow feels under the p-tex?
bootpacking up bone crusher
yeah, yeah you do. school? no problem, all i need to do is make sure that my credits from study abroad come through and i'm all set. work? that's alright, at least i have a job that pays for my active habits. drinking? if it's an occasion but otherwise i just can't be bothered. sleeping? it is rather necessary but there's nothing wrong with early mornings.
ben & spencer at the lodge
aye, so cheers! gather your mates. work hard. burn yourself out. see if you can make the last tram of the day. try that steep line. get haggard and bask in the lactic acid buildup and remember what it feels like to crash and come out on the other side unscathed and giggling. this is the antiviral. this is the purge. this is the proverbial leech for letting the bad blood.
anybody heading to mt. baker on sunday?
-e pics n' things!
tired in big sky
one spends most of their 5th year in college swearing and drinking, two habits that have formed with vicious efficiency over the past four years. papers and studies get lost under dinner plates and friends and onlookers eventually begin to wonder why their friend (who is still in school) hangs out at the library: they never talk about schoolwork. they never talk about class. are they just creeping on the freshers? no, they are not. they are still in school, suffering through and hoping that this quarter or the next will be their last. either this or that the world will come to some fiery end.
spencer, crashed on his bespoke mattress system in byron's shed
inspiration alone can combat swearing and drinking for so long. eventually the white blood cells of everyday life breakdown and the virus begins to take over. once this process has begun it is nearly impossible to reverse. antibacterials such as nights out at the bar don't work anymore. this is, after all, a virus that we're talking about. a virus that has sat dormant and patient for the past four years is never keen on being dispatched by trifling distractions. you become lazy, angry with school and academia. work slows. there may even come a point where you don't care if all there is to sleep on is a box spring cot sans mattress so long as you're afforded peace and quiet.
line prophet 90s
ah, but there is hope. don't you remember how good it felt to go purge the system? to bootpack for 20 minutes up a run where you're rewarded with maybe four or five sweet turns? remember how good deep snow feels under the p-tex?
bootpacking up bone crusher
yeah, yeah you do. school? no problem, all i need to do is make sure that my credits from study abroad come through and i'm all set. work? that's alright, at least i have a job that pays for my active habits. drinking? if it's an occasion but otherwise i just can't be bothered. sleeping? it is rather necessary but there's nothing wrong with early mornings.
ben & spencer at the lodge
aye, so cheers! gather your mates. work hard. burn yourself out. see if you can make the last tram of the day. try that steep line. get haggard and bask in the lactic acid buildup and remember what it feels like to crash and come out on the other side unscathed and giggling. this is the antiviral. this is the purge. this is the proverbial leech for letting the bad blood.
anybody heading to mt. baker on sunday?
-e pics n' things!
1.21.2009
intifada, globalized
courtesy zombietime.
this photo does not represent my thoughts but instead is meant to illustrate the increasing intensity of messages being fed into public view. it is so important that people not just treat this as another che t-shirt slogan and pay attention to what the implications of a globalized intifada are.
in the past months the united states has peacefully elected the most socially liberal president into office. barack has so far managed to maintain the image of one of the clearest thinking men in power anywhere and one can see this with the variety of people whom he has chose to serve in his cabinet. this, one would think, might reflect the maturing thoughts of a concerned peoples. if only it were that easy. across the states, however, there are contradictions and misgivings. gay marriage rights were voted down in california just after obama had won the elections in 2008.
earlier this month violent anti-war demonstrations broke out across the nation and indeed across the world. we are lucky in the united states to have not suffered from some of these more serious afflictions of belief. but that does not mean that we are less subject to a complete misunderstanding of the situation at hand. from california to florida to new york there are people compelled to replace the star of david with the swastika. it is impossible to separate opinion from this type of discussion, no matter how neutral you want to remain. i hope that, just for the moment, my orientation will be more translucent than usual. i also want to note that i am well aware that the vast majority of people either don't care (a sadness in itself, yet far different than the sort of sadness that over-zealousness often results in) or they don't feel the need to throw bricks through windows. i am perfectly aware that those who express extreme-left or right opinions often earn the spotlight but that doesn't mean that these issues should be disregarded. by dissecting what exactly people on the far left or right are saying it becomes easier to see that neither side fits everybody.
in the united states there has been an increasing amount of demonstration against the war in gaza. some of the more eager events appear pro-hamas. these often turn, however, less into pro-hamas gatherings and more into anti-israel demonstrations calling for, among the more polite suggestions, jewish businesses to be boycotted. there seem to be a great deal of palestinians at these rallies but what's truly frightening is the amount of middle-class white americans present.
feeling that they are making a difference in the world these people show up with little more than the desire to throw a brick through the nearest starbucks' window under the guise of campaigning for equal rights. some of the strangest phenomenon appears to be happening among other oppressed groups such as the LGBT organizations that are in support of a free palestine. a free palestine would result in a middle east that is completely intolerant of gays, to a point where homosexuality would be punishable by death (as it currently is under hamas). israel, despite a grotesque show of military force in the presence of civilian populations (air force strikes, etc. - though this is another issue entirely as hamas factions will use said civilians as human shields), is the last bastion of gay equality in the middle east. tel aviv was even named a new great place for gays to visit by out magazine.
this is really just scratching the surface of this argument and i can already feel some people's blood beginning to curdle. i'm not here to start fights. i suppose this post really is just me trying to figure out for myself just what the fuck is happening in that region. many thoughts here are only partially hashed out but i hope that by getting them in text form i can further understand what is going on. my own opinions are, for the most part, irrelevant but becoming better educated is not. there will always be more to learn and more listen to.
while discussing the topic last night my saudi arabian roommate said this: "hamas, PNA, israel, whoever. it doesn't matter. it's the people. their lives are ruined. how could you support anybody who ruins lives and knows they're doing it?"
-e pics n' things!
1.16.2009
pulling up sticks, pt. ii
i now know what to do when you're getting ready to leave a country. a while ago i made a post asking the question of what a person is to do when they have to leave something they have only recently become accustomed to. in this case, what am i to do now that i'm leaving england in three weeks and i have just started to feel like i'm living here. i have a solution and it depends on the individual's denial-level. if you're, say, a novice and usually find yourself admitting defeat before you're given the chance to succeed at something, this may not be the route for you.
if you're like me and have become rather accustomed to pretending you'll never have to return to the real world then do i have the whet for your whistle. leave where you are and go home, just like you're supposed to. unpack your bags. take a hot shower. check your mail. doddle around the kitchen aimlessly for a day or two. pretend everything is normal.
and then pull up sticks and go on vacation.
in my case, plan a ski trip to bozeman with your chums and neglect to really think much farther beyond that. i know that, especially these days, we all need to be a little more careful and plan ahead. we don't know what's around the corner anymore so we have to choose our steps and be aware of over-zealous behavior. or not. or we deal with what may come with the awareness that we will be okay, even if things will get hard for a time. but there will always be something to be said about spurs of the moment. i.e. i can go without living what i think of as, oh, decently and respectfully for a few weeks if it means a couple days skiing with two of my favourite people in the world.
being overseas has taught me many things. don't get in a cab drunk and forget your address. don't tell a northerner he sounds like a southerner. don't miss your flights. but most importantly, don't pass it up. whatever it is. don't.
so, take a vacation. the economic crisis will still be here when you get back.
-e
ben, aubrey, bobby, than, myself pics n' things!
if you're like me and have become rather accustomed to pretending you'll never have to return to the real world then do i have the whet for your whistle. leave where you are and go home, just like you're supposed to. unpack your bags. take a hot shower. check your mail. doddle around the kitchen aimlessly for a day or two. pretend everything is normal.
and then pull up sticks and go on vacation.
in my case, plan a ski trip to bozeman with your chums and neglect to really think much farther beyond that. i know that, especially these days, we all need to be a little more careful and plan ahead. we don't know what's around the corner anymore so we have to choose our steps and be aware of over-zealous behavior. or not. or we deal with what may come with the awareness that we will be okay, even if things will get hard for a time. but there will always be something to be said about spurs of the moment. i.e. i can go without living what i think of as, oh, decently and respectfully for a few weeks if it means a couple days skiing with two of my favourite people in the world.
being overseas has taught me many things. don't get in a cab drunk and forget your address. don't tell a northerner he sounds like a southerner. don't miss your flights. but most importantly, don't pass it up. whatever it is. don't.
so, take a vacation. the economic crisis will still be here when you get back.
-e
ben, aubrey, bobby, than, myself pics n' things!
1.07.2009
pop music
i am tired of indie music.
i don't mean for this to make me sound like some salty old geezer, bent on destroying all that matters to people who most likely buy everything they can get their hands on that says "organic". i also don't want it to sounds like i'm a jaded hip kid trying to out-ironic the next guy who thinks it's cool to wear an iron maiden t-shirt and not be able to sing, or even name, one track of theirs. no, i just want to make a point.
so perhaps i should rephrase myself: i like disposable music.
having ended up in a country that really does take quite seriously celebrity culture, gossip mags, x-factor and take that i can't quite see what's wrong with pop music. unless, of course, it sounds like most of what is on x-factor or take that. but that is beside the point because there are plenty of decent top-40 bubble-pop club hits that don't sound like the backstreet boys but make you want to dance more than, say, elliott smith. comparing artists such as elliott smith to throwaway stars like rhianna is a bit like comparing your 4 year old nephew's recent finger painting to a 15 foot tall portrait of Charles I - you're not really supposed to do it. and i'm fine with this. except for that elliott smith can't make me dance like rhianna can. and, let's face it, sometimes finger painting is much more fun than stuffy portraits that are so old that if they touch air they catch fire.
no, i love disposable music. i love having this one song stuck in my brain, rattling around like the marble in a spray can. of all the groups in the world to remind me how fun it is to listen to a song that just, well, has fun with itself, sigur ros blew me away. "gobbledigook" is some loud, crashy, shouty 3 minute romp in a forest or a dance hall or an empty city street. it can be listened to through headphones or live in an arena but it should never be quiet. just like kings of leon's "sex on fire" or mgmt's "kids" or rhianna's "disturbia" it should be as loud as fucking possible. it should be so loud that if the family cat were to blunder in front of the speaker it would find itself suddenly confused and making sick on the new carpet uncontrollably for the next week. these songs should be played with friends around. or while you're alone. naked. and dancing.
i have my andrew birds, my m. wards, my band of horses...eses. but i don't necessarily want to listen to my favourite songs from each of these artists for fear that they will wear out (it should be noted, however, that i have been listening to post-war a few times a week for a couple years now and it has not wearied). but with this pop crap you can just listen to "black and gold" 85 times on repeat, throw it away and wait for the next one to come along. but this, and this is important, is the distinguishing factor: good music makes you dance, memorably good music has staying power. that is the difference between my sigur ros and sam sparro.
just because you listen to pop doesn't mean you like axe body spray or are a business major (i have yet to conclude my study on whether the inverse is true: does using axe body spray make you a business major?) - it just means that you probably like to have a good time. and most of the people i've met over here like to have a good time.
-e
sam sparro's black & gold
black & gold on bbc radio 1 pics n' things!
i don't mean for this to make me sound like some salty old geezer, bent on destroying all that matters to people who most likely buy everything they can get their hands on that says "organic". i also don't want it to sounds like i'm a jaded hip kid trying to out-ironic the next guy who thinks it's cool to wear an iron maiden t-shirt and not be able to sing, or even name, one track of theirs. no, i just want to make a point.
so perhaps i should rephrase myself: i like disposable music.
having ended up in a country that really does take quite seriously celebrity culture, gossip mags, x-factor and take that i can't quite see what's wrong with pop music. unless, of course, it sounds like most of what is on x-factor or take that. but that is beside the point because there are plenty of decent top-40 bubble-pop club hits that don't sound like the backstreet boys but make you want to dance more than, say, elliott smith. comparing artists such as elliott smith to throwaway stars like rhianna is a bit like comparing your 4 year old nephew's recent finger painting to a 15 foot tall portrait of Charles I - you're not really supposed to do it. and i'm fine with this. except for that elliott smith can't make me dance like rhianna can. and, let's face it, sometimes finger painting is much more fun than stuffy portraits that are so old that if they touch air they catch fire.
no, i love disposable music. i love having this one song stuck in my brain, rattling around like the marble in a spray can. of all the groups in the world to remind me how fun it is to listen to a song that just, well, has fun with itself, sigur ros blew me away. "gobbledigook" is some loud, crashy, shouty 3 minute romp in a forest or a dance hall or an empty city street. it can be listened to through headphones or live in an arena but it should never be quiet. just like kings of leon's "sex on fire" or mgmt's "kids" or rhianna's "disturbia" it should be as loud as fucking possible. it should be so loud that if the family cat were to blunder in front of the speaker it would find itself suddenly confused and making sick on the new carpet uncontrollably for the next week. these songs should be played with friends around. or while you're alone. naked. and dancing.
i have my andrew birds, my m. wards, my band of horses...eses. but i don't necessarily want to listen to my favourite songs from each of these artists for fear that they will wear out (it should be noted, however, that i have been listening to post-war a few times a week for a couple years now and it has not wearied). but with this pop crap you can just listen to "black and gold" 85 times on repeat, throw it away and wait for the next one to come along. but this, and this is important, is the distinguishing factor: good music makes you dance, memorably good music has staying power. that is the difference between my sigur ros and sam sparro.
just because you listen to pop doesn't mean you like axe body spray or are a business major (i have yet to conclude my study on whether the inverse is true: does using axe body spray make you a business major?) - it just means that you probably like to have a good time. and most of the people i've met over here like to have a good time.
-e
sam sparro's black & gold
black & gold on bbc radio 1 pics n' things!
1.05.2009
pulling up sticks
how do you begin wrapping something up which you have only just become accustomed to?
-e
[edit] and on that very poignant note, i just finished fallout 3 and have simply no clue what to do with the rest of my life. except for write that paper that's due on the 22nd. but god, i won't stop thinking about that game. too bad there's a massive consequence at the end. bethesda keeps you from just wandering aimlessly about the wastes... pics n' things!
12.31.2008
new year's eve
it's just after seven in the evening and i'm sitting in a friend's living room in denmark. the new year will trundle along in a few lazy hours and the fireworks will continue well into the morning here in arhus. the living room is quiet and dinner will be served shortly. i suppose the time has come perhaps to take stock of the last twelve months, for they have been eventful.
i sold the best bike i've ever had; lived with morgan; drank with morgan; got a tattoo; turned 22 in the best of company; worked at a shoe store with matt hatch; rode in whistler twice with shane & spencer; got a new road bike; played frisbee at boulevard park with ang, joel and ashley; spent too much money at old town but made unforgettable connections; made a secret getaway to the oregon coast; thought i was having a heart attack; got to celebrate a year with somebody; watched a good friend get married; finished my thesis; watched my best friend grow from one person to someone completely different in a year; realized credit debt is not good but nearly unavoidable; played in seattle; strengthened connections with those whom i love and missed dearly those who i don't ever see; imploded and watched others implode; taught myself that positivity is the best way; supported and got support; learned that some people didn't get the memo about assault and that education should be the first priority; met kurt halsey; watched my love leave on a train only to spend christmas with her; went to england; studied medieval history where it happened; saw sigur ros in london; found my favourite pub in the world; studied the tube; made lasting friends abroad; traveled north france; visited denmark; made plans; changed plans; watched the united states make a choice that delighted the world; contracted; relaxed; learned to deal, learned to deal, learned to deal.
i'm missing some things in that list but i don't really care. there was one valuable lesson to come out of 2008: letting myself love. love friends, love a girl, love the world for whatever it has to offer (even if what it has to offer is nothing but hardships at times). my friends mean more to me than anything in the world and that realization is the most amazing part of the year.
happy new year.
-e
[edit] i would like to try and describe århus while she bends and twists, shaking from the explosions of massive non-state sponsored fireworks displays. this is the city during new year's celebrations. streets fill with the sulfur stench of lit powders and spent fuses, the yellow vapor lamps barely penetrating the thick odious cloud that wavers about with the little breeze that makes downtown. it's 23:50.
mom, abby, steffan and myself stood surrounded by small buildings that were just enough to block our view of the surrounding skyline - we were in some square in the city center. across the rooftops and chimneys the occasional flash of light penetrated the darkness and drowned out the stars on this -4c night. the frosty grass was loud underfoot but, come 00:00 2009, the crunch was drowned out. the madness that ensued for the next 45 minutes can only be described as an air raid from 1940 without the craters and flattened buildings. the body count and fires remained just as high, however. across the skyline, all we could see were flashes of incredibly bright light followed immediately by cracks and booms. my guts rattled and if i had a metal plate in my head i might just have had an aneurysm. searchlights stabbed through the smoke and night. there were screams coming from every direction as people seemed to flee the chaos, yelling and drinking and carousing their way into debauchery. windows rattled and the mass of sirened vehicles blazing through the streets gave the distinct impression that the nazis had just began shelling central london again. the smoke coated everything and you couldn't just smell it, you could taste it, the foul rank clinging to every surface that didn't have frost on it. homemade fireworks were causing rubbish bins to reach a state of explosive instability on a regular basis. cars full of youths and elders alike roared by. the bolder drivers passed the fire engines from time to time, attempting to avoid the rockets in the streets by dodging and swerving, marking serpentine tracks in the sulfur and frost that had settled on the street. they were the fleeing remnants of a people stuck in a place they didn't want to be with no choice but to give their damnedest to work together to get out. this is the last chopper out of 'nam! i imagined taxi drivers yelling to their dawdling fares standing drunk and confused on the sidewalk, half deaf from the shelling and crackling and screaming and pandemonium coursing through the streets like heroin through the veins of someone taking their first stab. champagne bottles exploded against buildings and sidewalks. people dressed for balls and galas joined in with the frenzy. everybody on the streets seemed lost but not a single one seemed to care. no one dashed for the bomb shelters and there wasn't a single prophet urging us to repent - if there was we could never have heard him.
århus exploded tonight. instead of sitting on a hill, watching some choreographed fireworks show i was part of it. i walked through the smoke, felt the caustic taste rest on my palate. everybody was a part of it. the state organized no event so the people filled the vacuum. there was no sense of finalé, just the relentless pounding and drumming of illegal german fireworks announcing our presence as the human race and greeting the new year with open arms, look at us! look at what we can do! we can build bridges and construct buildings taller than mountains! we can dig tunnels and create massive transportation networks that whisk people across miles in minutes! we can logically theorize on the origins of the universe and deduce the motion of all celestial bodies to three simple laws! we can cure polio and make corn healthier and easier to grow! we can do all of these things and more and we do everyday of every year since we first learned how to cause a spark! but tonight is the first of january and we'd just as soon get drunk, laugh, shout, be attracted to one another, have sex, eat food, play games and make colourful fire in the sky! god it's great to be alive and human. pics n' things!
i sold the best bike i've ever had; lived with morgan; drank with morgan; got a tattoo; turned 22 in the best of company; worked at a shoe store with matt hatch; rode in whistler twice with shane & spencer; got a new road bike; played frisbee at boulevard park with ang, joel and ashley; spent too much money at old town but made unforgettable connections; made a secret getaway to the oregon coast; thought i was having a heart attack; got to celebrate a year with somebody; watched a good friend get married; finished my thesis; watched my best friend grow from one person to someone completely different in a year; realized credit debt is not good but nearly unavoidable; played in seattle; strengthened connections with those whom i love and missed dearly those who i don't ever see; imploded and watched others implode; taught myself that positivity is the best way; supported and got support; learned that some people didn't get the memo about assault and that education should be the first priority; met kurt halsey; watched my love leave on a train only to spend christmas with her; went to england; studied medieval history where it happened; saw sigur ros in london; found my favourite pub in the world; studied the tube; made lasting friends abroad; traveled north france; visited denmark; made plans; changed plans; watched the united states make a choice that delighted the world; contracted; relaxed; learned to deal, learned to deal, learned to deal.
i'm missing some things in that list but i don't really care. there was one valuable lesson to come out of 2008: letting myself love. love friends, love a girl, love the world for whatever it has to offer (even if what it has to offer is nothing but hardships at times). my friends mean more to me than anything in the world and that realization is the most amazing part of the year.
happy new year.
-e
[edit] i would like to try and describe århus while she bends and twists, shaking from the explosions of massive non-state sponsored fireworks displays. this is the city during new year's celebrations. streets fill with the sulfur stench of lit powders and spent fuses, the yellow vapor lamps barely penetrating the thick odious cloud that wavers about with the little breeze that makes downtown. it's 23:50.
mom, abby, steffan and myself stood surrounded by small buildings that were just enough to block our view of the surrounding skyline - we were in some square in the city center. across the rooftops and chimneys the occasional flash of light penetrated the darkness and drowned out the stars on this -4c night. the frosty grass was loud underfoot but, come 00:00 2009, the crunch was drowned out. the madness that ensued for the next 45 minutes can only be described as an air raid from 1940 without the craters and flattened buildings. the body count and fires remained just as high, however. across the skyline, all we could see were flashes of incredibly bright light followed immediately by cracks and booms. my guts rattled and if i had a metal plate in my head i might just have had an aneurysm. searchlights stabbed through the smoke and night. there were screams coming from every direction as people seemed to flee the chaos, yelling and drinking and carousing their way into debauchery. windows rattled and the mass of sirened vehicles blazing through the streets gave the distinct impression that the nazis had just began shelling central london again. the smoke coated everything and you couldn't just smell it, you could taste it, the foul rank clinging to every surface that didn't have frost on it. homemade fireworks were causing rubbish bins to reach a state of explosive instability on a regular basis. cars full of youths and elders alike roared by. the bolder drivers passed the fire engines from time to time, attempting to avoid the rockets in the streets by dodging and swerving, marking serpentine tracks in the sulfur and frost that had settled on the street. they were the fleeing remnants of a people stuck in a place they didn't want to be with no choice but to give their damnedest to work together to get out. this is the last chopper out of 'nam! i imagined taxi drivers yelling to their dawdling fares standing drunk and confused on the sidewalk, half deaf from the shelling and crackling and screaming and pandemonium coursing through the streets like heroin through the veins of someone taking their first stab. champagne bottles exploded against buildings and sidewalks. people dressed for balls and galas joined in with the frenzy. everybody on the streets seemed lost but not a single one seemed to care. no one dashed for the bomb shelters and there wasn't a single prophet urging us to repent - if there was we could never have heard him.
århus exploded tonight. instead of sitting on a hill, watching some choreographed fireworks show i was part of it. i walked through the smoke, felt the caustic taste rest on my palate. everybody was a part of it. the state organized no event so the people filled the vacuum. there was no sense of finalé, just the relentless pounding and drumming of illegal german fireworks announcing our presence as the human race and greeting the new year with open arms, look at us! look at what we can do! we can build bridges and construct buildings taller than mountains! we can dig tunnels and create massive transportation networks that whisk people across miles in minutes! we can logically theorize on the origins of the universe and deduce the motion of all celestial bodies to three simple laws! we can cure polio and make corn healthier and easier to grow! we can do all of these things and more and we do everyday of every year since we first learned how to cause a spark! but tonight is the first of january and we'd just as soon get drunk, laugh, shout, be attracted to one another, have sex, eat food, play games and make colourful fire in the sky! god it's great to be alive and human. pics n' things!
11.27.2008
thought for food.
this following has nothing to do with the books. psyche.
it has recently been occurring to me that i will be going home in just over two months. this is strange. when i first arrived here and told people i was to be in hull for only a semester i would preface the statement with "unfortunately". the idea not being that i didn't want to return to bellingham and the US but rather that i wanted as much time abroad as i could get. but now it's as if i am feeling more prepared to go home and finish uni at WWU. sure it saddens me that i won't get to fly to france for £5 after the 3rd of february. but it also saddens me to be away from the people i love.
over the past few weeks i have spent a great deal of time on my own, wandering northern europe, sodding about, attending concerts, missing flights and generally making a worthless slouch of myself. i have spent more time on metros and undergrounds than i have in front of books or computers and as a result i have taken more pictures than will fit on my laptop. aside from visiting friends for an evening in paris i have spent the last two+ weeks figuring this area out for myself. i have seen notre dame, the eiffel tower, the french countryside via auto tour, big ben, the tower bridge, hyde park, parliament and train-toured all of england. the experiences have been, in an overused word, unforgettable.
but this is selfish. i have found that, over the long term, this type of living isn't sustainable. depsite my best attempts to prove to the world that i don't need anybody i have only shown myself that for days at a time i am content to not speak to anybody. the difference between not having anyone you love close to you and not doing a great deal of speaking to those people has become shatteringly clear. the time i went out and spent on my own was enlightening and i would never dare replace it with any other experience but at the same time i cannot help but miss those who i love. angela, joel, ben, spencer, morgan, mom & dad, brothers...there are countless people in the US that i find myself thinking about daily. it doesn't matter where i am but inevitably the thought crosses my mind that boy, they might really like this place.... i want everybody i know to be able to visit me. i want everybody i know to be able to see everything i see.
so in the end i simply find myself thinking of my family. my friends in bellingham. my friends in olympia that i don't speak to anymore. my friends in bellingham that i don't speak to anymore. the people i don't speak to anymore wherever they are. when i return to bellingham i want to rekindle what i've lost with some. i want to make new friends and meet new people. i want to see new things in the united states, things i never thought i would want to see. and i want friends to share these experiences with me.
life is good. but it's hardly worth mentioning if you don't have people you love.
-e pics n' things!
it has recently been occurring to me that i will be going home in just over two months. this is strange. when i first arrived here and told people i was to be in hull for only a semester i would preface the statement with "unfortunately". the idea not being that i didn't want to return to bellingham and the US but rather that i wanted as much time abroad as i could get. but now it's as if i am feeling more prepared to go home and finish uni at WWU. sure it saddens me that i won't get to fly to france for £5 after the 3rd of february. but it also saddens me to be away from the people i love.
over the past few weeks i have spent a great deal of time on my own, wandering northern europe, sodding about, attending concerts, missing flights and generally making a worthless slouch of myself. i have spent more time on metros and undergrounds than i have in front of books or computers and as a result i have taken more pictures than will fit on my laptop. aside from visiting friends for an evening in paris i have spent the last two+ weeks figuring this area out for myself. i have seen notre dame, the eiffel tower, the french countryside via auto tour, big ben, the tower bridge, hyde park, parliament and train-toured all of england. the experiences have been, in an overused word, unforgettable.
but this is selfish. i have found that, over the long term, this type of living isn't sustainable. depsite my best attempts to prove to the world that i don't need anybody i have only shown myself that for days at a time i am content to not speak to anybody. the difference between not having anyone you love close to you and not doing a great deal of speaking to those people has become shatteringly clear. the time i went out and spent on my own was enlightening and i would never dare replace it with any other experience but at the same time i cannot help but miss those who i love. angela, joel, ben, spencer, morgan, mom & dad, brothers...there are countless people in the US that i find myself thinking about daily. it doesn't matter where i am but inevitably the thought crosses my mind that boy, they might really like this place.... i want everybody i know to be able to visit me. i want everybody i know to be able to see everything i see.
so in the end i simply find myself thinking of my family. my friends in bellingham. my friends in olympia that i don't speak to anymore. my friends in bellingham that i don't speak to anymore. the people i don't speak to anymore wherever they are. when i return to bellingham i want to rekindle what i've lost with some. i want to make new friends and meet new people. i want to see new things in the united states, things i never thought i would want to see. and i want friends to share these experiences with me.
life is good. but it's hardly worth mentioning if you don't have people you love.
-e pics n' things!
11.05.2008
looking forward
well done, sir. well done. i feel a strange sense of pride right now. i am proud of the people back home who have allowed something like this to happen and i feel strong being abroad right now.
they've passed us the ball. let's not drop it.
-e pics n' things!
they've passed us the ball. let's not drop it.
-e pics n' things!
10.13.2008
change
so i have officially changed my return flight from 25 december to 3 february. i have the same flight times but it's a month later. i approached the international office coordinator here again and she gave me the same answer, under no circumstances am i going to be able to take my exams early in order to return to the states in time to apply for winter quarter at western. if this wasn't going to work for me i should not have applied for study abroad.
*shudders with something resembling but not exactly quite like rage*
i'm not upset about being in europe for an extended period of time. i'm upset that the people who were to be helping me here at hull have been, well, not. i have heard conflicting reports from several sources, including my professors here who have told me that students have taken their exams early, on whether or not i would be able to return home before the official examination period. i need to be less upset about these things. and i am. three months ago this would've sent me through the roof with panic and a white hot fit of anger. in fact, it did send me through the roof. but now, after all the shit that it has taken to get here, i just don't have the energy to hassle with them. instead i have to approach the situation with the most positive manner i can.
it's a pretty fortunate deal, if you were to think about it. other than hemorrhaging massive amounts of money and losing school time in bellingham, i will end up with a free month from school. in europe. that's cool. plus i will be able to be in either paris, london or munich for christmas and the new year, one of my original ideas for the holidays. also, mom will be able to have time to fly out during her christmas break to visit and see some of the country.
so really, i need to stop pissing and moaning because it's not often one gets the opportunity to take a rescheduled flight and apply the situation to the rest of their life. this is one of those adult moments where you have make the choice between a life constantly unsatisfied and a life where flexibility becomes a quality, not a chore. it's time to make the choice and just, i don't know, be happy for fuck's sake. necessity is the mother of invention and it is necessary for me to stop being so hard to please.
months ago i wrote up some pages on problems i have with perspective and my internal debate which argues that people, in a sense, don't have it and how that really pisses me off. so, here is a perfect example of my hypocrisy. treat this like a smaller event, a rescheduling and a remarking of the calender, and step away from it. step away from the preconception that this is turning the whole journey on its head because it isn't. my flight home is the last thing i do so why would it ruin this?
pretty slapdash but i don't feel like i should explain it. people wouldn't read this anymore if i did.
here are some pictures if you just scrolled past my monologue:
a mexican and an american play backup for "hotel california". rock the fuck out.
york, old town.
-e pics n' things!
*shudders with something resembling but not exactly quite like rage*
i'm not upset about being in europe for an extended period of time. i'm upset that the people who were to be helping me here at hull have been, well, not. i have heard conflicting reports from several sources, including my professors here who have told me that students have taken their exams early, on whether or not i would be able to return home before the official examination period. i need to be less upset about these things. and i am. three months ago this would've sent me through the roof with panic and a white hot fit of anger. in fact, it did send me through the roof. but now, after all the shit that it has taken to get here, i just don't have the energy to hassle with them. instead i have to approach the situation with the most positive manner i can.
it's a pretty fortunate deal, if you were to think about it. other than hemorrhaging massive amounts of money and losing school time in bellingham, i will end up with a free month from school. in europe. that's cool. plus i will be able to be in either paris, london or munich for christmas and the new year, one of my original ideas for the holidays. also, mom will be able to have time to fly out during her christmas break to visit and see some of the country.
so really, i need to stop pissing and moaning because it's not often one gets the opportunity to take a rescheduled flight and apply the situation to the rest of their life. this is one of those adult moments where you have make the choice between a life constantly unsatisfied and a life where flexibility becomes a quality, not a chore. it's time to make the choice and just, i don't know, be happy for fuck's sake. necessity is the mother of invention and it is necessary for me to stop being so hard to please.
months ago i wrote up some pages on problems i have with perspective and my internal debate which argues that people, in a sense, don't have it and how that really pisses me off. so, here is a perfect example of my hypocrisy. treat this like a smaller event, a rescheduling and a remarking of the calender, and step away from it. step away from the preconception that this is turning the whole journey on its head because it isn't. my flight home is the last thing i do so why would it ruin this?
pretty slapdash but i don't feel like i should explain it. people wouldn't read this anymore if i did.
here are some pictures if you just scrolled past my monologue:
a mexican and an american play backup for "hotel california". rock the fuck out.
york, old town.
-e pics n' things!
10.03.2008
a quick note on oddness
i'm at my favourite pub yesterday, Ye Old White Harte, having a pint and doing some writing. the main room is a warm, old and quiet place populated mainly by those who appear to be locals, older folks and businessmen in suits taking extended lunches. it's windy and cloudy outside, brisk as fall sets in on the yorkshire coast. i take my place next to one of two crackling fireplaces in the Harte, the one closer to the bar. friendly conversation floats lazily around the old wood and seeps like smoke over pints of Deuchars and London Pride. there is a handcarved Theakston brewing sign that has been in the same place since the 1881 remodel of the building and most of the furniture is from even earlier eras.
it's not easy to find, the pub. one must wind through Hull's old town streets, as narrow as one would think before passing by a small covered alleyway. there is a steel gate that sits open at all times but one has to think that all of these buildings were built up and up and around, the architects occassionally forgetting about the gathering place. i feel safe here, comfortable that this is, physically and mentally, almost as isolated as i could be.
until i hear a brash greeting from across the room. it sounds like the type of man who, when you see him coming, you look busy. when he talks to you he is either chewing gum, wearing sunglasses inside or jangling keys or change loudly in his pocket as though to provide an irritating percussion accompaniment to some spoken word performance from hell. speaking loudly with his wife by his side, a 50-something american man strikes up conversation with an englishman regarding the upcoming presidential election. the victim asks who he is going to vote for and, proudly, he announces that McCain is the only vote for himself. and it's not because Obama is black.
thank god, i say to myself, because that would just be rude. my own sarcasm makes my blood boil and i have the instinctive urge to burn the place down so this conversation doesn't go any farther. so no more damage can be done. i see two gentleman at the bar turn their shoulders away from the direction of the conversation and take sore sips at half-pints of Guinness. i want to apologize but i say nothing. the american man showers the pub with his opinions, occassionally asking his wife if she agrees with him. yes, quite is her response most of the time. i shudder. he proclaims that they're from indiana, a red state in the middle of the "liberal fortress".
fortress? what is this, a cowboy comic?
instead of speaking up and inflaming the situation, i let the man keep talking and asking his wife to agree with him. i let him keep thinking that he was the only american in the room. i let him do this. no, i just couldn't say anything. i felt the need to protect this place from such displays. for my own good, don't ruin this for me, asshole. this is my pub. and then i realized i was thinking exactly what he must be thinking.
-e
pics n' things!
it's not easy to find, the pub. one must wind through Hull's old town streets, as narrow as one would think before passing by a small covered alleyway. there is a steel gate that sits open at all times but one has to think that all of these buildings were built up and up and around, the architects occassionally forgetting about the gathering place. i feel safe here, comfortable that this is, physically and mentally, almost as isolated as i could be.
until i hear a brash greeting from across the room. it sounds like the type of man who, when you see him coming, you look busy. when he talks to you he is either chewing gum, wearing sunglasses inside or jangling keys or change loudly in his pocket as though to provide an irritating percussion accompaniment to some spoken word performance from hell. speaking loudly with his wife by his side, a 50-something american man strikes up conversation with an englishman regarding the upcoming presidential election. the victim asks who he is going to vote for and, proudly, he announces that McCain is the only vote for himself. and it's not because Obama is black.
thank god, i say to myself, because that would just be rude. my own sarcasm makes my blood boil and i have the instinctive urge to burn the place down so this conversation doesn't go any farther. so no more damage can be done. i see two gentleman at the bar turn their shoulders away from the direction of the conversation and take sore sips at half-pints of Guinness. i want to apologize but i say nothing. the american man showers the pub with his opinions, occassionally asking his wife if she agrees with him. yes, quite is her response most of the time. i shudder. he proclaims that they're from indiana, a red state in the middle of the "liberal fortress".
fortress? what is this, a cowboy comic?
instead of speaking up and inflaming the situation, i let the man keep talking and asking his wife to agree with him. i let him keep thinking that he was the only american in the room. i let him do this. no, i just couldn't say anything. i felt the need to protect this place from such displays. for my own good, don't ruin this for me, asshole. this is my pub. and then i realized i was thinking exactly what he must be thinking.
-e
pics n' things!
12.18.2007
a few words concerning the last post
i just had a good chat with kristie about this issue of perspective. interesting things happen when one just talks aloud about any given conundrum. at first it seems as though you're spinning wheels and getting nowhere until some provincial god strikes you on the back of the head with the proverbial lightning bolt. there's a small spark inside and within planck time it has grown to some hideous burning pyre. it all falls together. not prettily. but together, damnit.
i should've mentioned the other conflict i have been confronting (or, to be a bit more precise about the matter, completely avoiding) and it seems silly now to have not done so. solitude. it's such a simple word but the concepts lodged in its hundreds of meanings can have disastrous effects on one's mental and physical well being. we should get one thing straight: it is in no way affecting my physical well being. let's be completely clear about at least that one thing. it has, however, been cropping up more and more in daily thought in the form of usually thinking a good evening to be one spent alone at home reading or, if i'm lucky, making something decent for dinner. senior in college: this, i've been told, is hardly the time to be moving that direction and rather it is the final blowout i should be preparing for. nuts to that.
so then. why this recent fixation on the problems with perspective? i've known for several months that my attraction towards solitude has been growing but i have been too dim witted to realize that, along with it, so has my issue with the former. the connection, in my mind, is now obvious: with my concern over perspective i have been becoming increasingly solitary. is this a natural process? have i found some deeper question that i'm truly interested in and simply want to have some more time alone to get a better grasp on it? is there some deeper relationship between these two no longer disparate concepts? or is this all complete rubbish?
hmm.
-e pics n' things!
i should've mentioned the other conflict i have been confronting (or, to be a bit more precise about the matter, completely avoiding) and it seems silly now to have not done so. solitude. it's such a simple word but the concepts lodged in its hundreds of meanings can have disastrous effects on one's mental and physical well being. we should get one thing straight: it is in no way affecting my physical well being. let's be completely clear about at least that one thing. it has, however, been cropping up more and more in daily thought in the form of usually thinking a good evening to be one spent alone at home reading or, if i'm lucky, making something decent for dinner. senior in college: this, i've been told, is hardly the time to be moving that direction and rather it is the final blowout i should be preparing for. nuts to that.
so then. why this recent fixation on the problems with perspective? i've known for several months that my attraction towards solitude has been growing but i have been too dim witted to realize that, along with it, so has my issue with the former. the connection, in my mind, is now obvious: with my concern over perspective i have been becoming increasingly solitary. is this a natural process? have i found some deeper question that i'm truly interested in and simply want to have some more time alone to get a better grasp on it? is there some deeper relationship between these two no longer disparate concepts? or is this all complete rubbish?
hmm.
-e pics n' things!
12.14.2007
a few words concerning the season (etc.)
so. a great deal of pause has been given to this journal. i guess one could say it was school, work or good ol fashioned procrastination. i say it was an odd combination of the three and perhaps more. here's what i think (and i assume you're either bored or perhaps vaguely interested in what i have to say): i finished reading zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance a few weeks ago. this a book i hear one needs to read in order to become a pretentious college asshole (along with ayn rand's atlas shrugged which, incidentally, is not a good book. if you're interested in her, spend your time elsewhere - i suggest the fountainhead.). but, i digress. after finishing the book i thought of those people who find it to be for pretentious assholes and promptly thought of them as pretentious assholes (most likely they frequent pitchfork, think that music is dead and shop exclusively at american apparel*.) i found myself wondering when some pivotal moment in my life would happen. now i'm well aware that those things don't just happen and i'm also well aware of all the tired lines having something to do with me making things happen. yes, i know. thank you.
but. after the construction and prompt collapse of relationships, the construction and fear of imminent collapse of another and a general paranoia surrounding an increasingly awkward social life, i have settled on one importation question: the question of perspective. phaedrus had his inquiry into the meaning of the purest form of quality: what is it? where did it come from? what does quality mean when you take it out of context (that is, what is quality when you're not relating it to material objects such as, for example, a well made car)? i am in no way comparing myself to the pained protagonist of pirsig's story but i am longing for some chautauqua of my own.
this matter of perspective, to be totally honest, isn't revolving around a question but a concept. it's not as intensely deep as i may have made it sound but it is seeming to fit this part of my life. there is some root to the meaning of perspective (and it doesn't involve any vortex machine, for those of you in the know) but i have yet to stumble across it. what guidelines, exactly, keep us from backing away and looking at things from a different angle, through a different filter? how is it that our respective lenses get so scratched with a specific set of experiences thus leading to what later becomes a rather unpleasantly jaded individual? i fear it affects everybody. in fact, i know it does. if you've ever met anybody with an opinion you've met a person that has experienced some strange side effect of perspective. it's a strange and almost rudely elementary conclusion for me to arrive at, "distastefully simple" a friend told me. well fine, to hell with you too. yet at moments i feel like i'm grasping at straws and at other moments i'm determined to get deeper. the problem always comes at the same point, the point i'm at right now. i don't know how to get deeper. i don't know where to go from here. up? down? i'm not on a magical elevator and haven't yet figured out what the fuck "thinking laterally" entails. i haven't been able to sidle up to the problem and pounce on it.
so then. no answers to the question of perspective. however, and this may or may not help you understand just what in the hell i'm prattling on about, i felt its brutal effects: the most obvious being its negative impact on my social life. i feel that i have over-developed my internal resources that allow me to see things from other people's points of view. oh, you're saying, what a delusional asshole. no, i actually think this is detrimental for one very important reason: i have gained too much perspective on external issues (those outside of my own head) at a very critical time in my life, a time where i should be focusing on what's happening internally. it's a scary time when you realize that you may or may not be thinking for yourself. or worse, that other people have zero perspective and are stubborn to the point of suicidal when it comes to their own views. here we see the problem of perspective. its ghost and lingering residue in its most basic and rudimentary form. the stain it has left on my life until now has resulted in oddly shaped bridges that haven't fully repaired themselves, not unlike a bone break that has healed uncleanly. i find this leading to more and more reclusiveness and more and more thought.
but there's an upshot. there's something that as i wrap myself up in this tangle always brings me back down. moments like these.
with that said (and gone completely unfinished), i love the season even with its odd little bouts of loneliness that are specific only to the holidays. i'm reading (still) brian greene's fabric of the cosmos. i'm listening to beirut's gulag orkestar, jens lekmen's night falls over kortadala and stars' in our bedroom after the war. i'm mostly happy in my work and we've reached the end of the first quarter and a much anticipated break through the new year. i'm beginning the pre-planning for study abroad in germany for fall 2008. i'm bored a lot.
more pictures. for posterity, you know?
the view from our landing. the clouds are hanging too low to see the bay beyond the farthest visible brick buildings.
we have a christmas tree. go us.
-e
*if this is you, let me know: i have words for you. they're not happy words, either.
pics n' things!
but. after the construction and prompt collapse of relationships, the construction and fear of imminent collapse of another and a general paranoia surrounding an increasingly awkward social life, i have settled on one importation question: the question of perspective. phaedrus had his inquiry into the meaning of the purest form of quality: what is it? where did it come from? what does quality mean when you take it out of context (that is, what is quality when you're not relating it to material objects such as, for example, a well made car)? i am in no way comparing myself to the pained protagonist of pirsig's story but i am longing for some chautauqua of my own.
this matter of perspective, to be totally honest, isn't revolving around a question but a concept. it's not as intensely deep as i may have made it sound but it is seeming to fit this part of my life. there is some root to the meaning of perspective (and it doesn't involve any vortex machine, for those of you in the know) but i have yet to stumble across it. what guidelines, exactly, keep us from backing away and looking at things from a different angle, through a different filter? how is it that our respective lenses get so scratched with a specific set of experiences thus leading to what later becomes a rather unpleasantly jaded individual? i fear it affects everybody. in fact, i know it does. if you've ever met anybody with an opinion you've met a person that has experienced some strange side effect of perspective. it's a strange and almost rudely elementary conclusion for me to arrive at, "distastefully simple" a friend told me. well fine, to hell with you too. yet at moments i feel like i'm grasping at straws and at other moments i'm determined to get deeper. the problem always comes at the same point, the point i'm at right now. i don't know how to get deeper. i don't know where to go from here. up? down? i'm not on a magical elevator and haven't yet figured out what the fuck "thinking laterally" entails. i haven't been able to sidle up to the problem and pounce on it.
so then. no answers to the question of perspective. however, and this may or may not help you understand just what in the hell i'm prattling on about, i felt its brutal effects: the most obvious being its negative impact on my social life. i feel that i have over-developed my internal resources that allow me to see things from other people's points of view. oh, you're saying, what a delusional asshole. no, i actually think this is detrimental for one very important reason: i have gained too much perspective on external issues (those outside of my own head) at a very critical time in my life, a time where i should be focusing on what's happening internally. it's a scary time when you realize that you may or may not be thinking for yourself. or worse, that other people have zero perspective and are stubborn to the point of suicidal when it comes to their own views. here we see the problem of perspective. its ghost and lingering residue in its most basic and rudimentary form. the stain it has left on my life until now has resulted in oddly shaped bridges that haven't fully repaired themselves, not unlike a bone break that has healed uncleanly. i find this leading to more and more reclusiveness and more and more thought.
but there's an upshot. there's something that as i wrap myself up in this tangle always brings me back down. moments like these.
with that said (and gone completely unfinished), i love the season even with its odd little bouts of loneliness that are specific only to the holidays. i'm reading (still) brian greene's fabric of the cosmos. i'm listening to beirut's gulag orkestar, jens lekmen's night falls over kortadala and stars' in our bedroom after the war. i'm mostly happy in my work and we've reached the end of the first quarter and a much anticipated break through the new year. i'm beginning the pre-planning for study abroad in germany for fall 2008. i'm bored a lot.
more pictures. for posterity, you know?
the view from our landing. the clouds are hanging too low to see the bay beyond the farthest visible brick buildings.
we have a christmas tree. go us.
-e
*if this is you, let me know: i have words for you. they're not happy words, either.
pics n' things!
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