the smells

Iris took me out for breakfast when I was cooped up and restless…  each time I go out into the world it feels as though I’m going on a school trip.  These two men sat at the bar eating their breakfasts.  One of the men had really long black hair, a little fried out, that’s what happens when you get old.  His friend had the tough biker look going, shaved head, bandana, pierces and tattoos everywhere. Suddenly another guy with long black hair sits next to them.  I got the feeling that they didn’t know each other.  Naturally the two men with long black hair began speaking to one another.  They both looked like they had Native American blood somewhere in them. 

In another world, in another realm, I could imagine them talking about Grandfather and the ways of the Coyote, while they smelled one anothers’ hair.  One guy would have the other’s long black hair right between his upper lip and his nose, while the other guy did the same thing.  In that moment, they would talk about great things, the past, and how in this connection right now they are rekindling their ancestors’ wishes. 

Then all of the sudden they would just go on and on about how much they loved the way their hair smelled…  they would talk about what products they would use…

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oh Canada

yes, I am talking to you Canada, the one with the funny accents, French spoken with ease, pick my compost up please.  we shoot the breeze, late night emotions get squeezed…  yes, you Canada, an eleven hour train ride, you remind me of this path I’ve taken before, swirving and squirming like a slippery snake.  The scrabble board trembles and shakes, the game was fun but inevitably futile.  It didn’t work out and we couldn’t finish the game.  Sometimes we know that things won’t work so we start breaking shit, like at Greek weddings, when they break the porcelain plates.

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another day at the farm

before moving to highland, i lived in millerton for seven years.  for more than five of those years i worked at a tea store.  i remember the days when i would say to myself how i would kill for another day off.  at the time, i was going to school either full time or part time, depending on my financial circumstance, and i was working full time.  now i am on the college loan diet and without a job, which was a conscious choice of mine by the way.  i still don’t feel comfortable working at a really shitty and low paying job, just to make an extra hundred dollars a week while i try to study for tough exams.  it just doesn’t make any sense to me.

i have found out that im pretty ocd about a lot of things.  the kitchen has to look a certain way.  cleaning is like life, a perpetual cycle where you can’t just do it once and be done with it.  after every meal you have to clean and make it all look pretty.  this doesn’t have to be seen as a chore although there are times when you can.  i enjoy cleaning.  it consumes my life for some time instead of just thinking about things too much.  i pour my energy into the broom and sweep up every last crumb or dried out pasta.

cleaning the bathroom is alright too, although i don’t like doing it as much.  getting down on your hands and knees and cleaning off the mold in the shower is never too fun.  although i must say that when i am done it feels great taking a shower in there or dropping a deuce.

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laundromat confessionals

this path begins amidst the cold winds’ drifts, twenty bucks out of the atm, walked around the corner and bend to a small town bank, would you give me change i ask the teller.  no, you must have an account.  illegal alien style – i smiled and went into the salon.  broke that twenty into a ten and two fives, the lively woman at the front desk knew i was on a laundry quest.  hunger lurks and looms blood sugar sputters and zooms.  my laundry will be ready a minute too soon.  money would make us all a little happier, but only up to a point, this mind expands and retracts from a puff of the joint.  she does her laundry in a hurry kinetic energy caught up in that fury enjoy this neutral zone let go of your worries.  pale skin a character in the form of a vampire.  the owner checks his machines for quarters.  he gets his money, mops the floor, buys a bud, then goes back to his honey.  the jamaican smiles wide assuring you that life is all right.  the older woman with yellow fuzzy unbrushed teeth is sweet, sharing with me her philosophy and strategy.  put it all in one big machine, you’ll save yourself a bundle.  we meet eyes for a second she welcomes me to her mental jungle.  i can’t back out, all i can do is listen to her story.  i made eye contact and gave attention now i need a laundromat intervention.

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this movie i saw prompted

me to consider why i am blogging.  I saw this movie with Iris and it had to do with some woman who was inspired by Julia Childs, her journey and tried connecting herself to Julia (who was dead by the time she began this endeavor) by making every one of her recipes in Julia Child’s cookbook.  this young woman wanted to be known, heard and recognized.  and there’s this little voice in each one of us that just wants to be heard, won’t you read my blog, appreciate me, and tell me that i am more special than the rest, or that i am unique in the way that i express myself.

i don’t know why i’m blogging.  and truthfully, i don’t care why i’m even doing it.  i know that i need discipline.  and this blogging venture hasn’t been successful in that sense.  i’ve been writing in this thing maybe once a week, maybe even less.  so what can i tell you about my life – today?  well —

i’m not going to bite my nails anymore, this may be the 100th time i’ve tried quitting biting my nails…  i ate a really late breakfast that was terrible, in the really good terrible sense.  six pieces of bacon, two sausages, and some bruschetta.  for those of you that don’t know, bruschetta is this tomato vegetable blend that is slightly sour and delicious…  nutritious.  but everything else in my meal was not nutritious, at all.

what else – ok, well the house is a mess.  i’m looking for these photographs my dad gave me before i moved to new paltz.  i think i lost them, and i feel terrible because they are worth something, worth a lot actually.  maybe $500-1000 a photograph…  and i had a lot of them.  my life changed dramatically within a week.  i had moved two times in a matter of maybe three weeks…  and everything was shocking.  now the shock is subsiding and i am becoming more comfortable with where i am.

where the fuck are those photographs

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for a moment

there are those days when you smoke a little weed and the next morning feels off.  you’re tired no matter how much caffeine you put into the system.  then hunger creeps up on you.  all of the sudden bowel movements shake your existence.  and you’re in one of those deep philosophical conversations where everything seems to be painted a little gray.

you have two cups of tea.  you make amends with the conversation, closing on a positive note.  your pasta and meatballs tastes more delicious the next day…  and you go to the king’s throne bathroom in the library where there’s enough space to sublet it to a struggling college student.

ten minutes removed from the struggle, life is now good.

and so i introduce you to first name ebb last name flow.

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let the good thymes roll

last night was the first night where i felt part of the new paltz community.  iris was up visiting her family in the catskills and i was all by myself.  i had made tentative plans to meet up with my friend peter, but nothing was concrete.  after writing a paper for my history and systems of psychology class, i decided to head over to one of the local bars named oasis.  there was a cover charge, great, two dollars.  yeah it doesn’t sound like much, but two dollars for a shitty band sucks no matter how you look at it, so i thought.  they actually turned out to be pretty good.  at any rate — peter did end up coming to oasis and he introduced me to all of his friends.  hes a polite young man that one.  it makes the transition into social groups and bar settings so much easier when you have someone who makes you feel like you are a part of their group.  and you know, i only had two beers which is really great for me.  i am a cheap date.  i ended up pissing all night too.  maybe i should get that checked out.  today wasn’t as productive.  i woke up pretty late and got off to a slow start.  i made the realization that working in the quietest part of the library is great for doing school work.

there are times when i feel addicted to people.  i almost have this insecurity of getting down and dirty with my school work, just the paper, pen, and my brain.  you know how people talk about this ADD shit, who knows, maybe i have it, maybe i don’t…  but for some reason it’s really hard for me to get to my work and be quiet, on my own…  just slowly pecking away at the work.

i have this impression of myself as being a good student, and i am confident in myself…  but there seems to be another part of myself that is afraid of putting in the work, because i could potentially still not do well even if i bust my ass…

that mentality is just another excuse for laziness.  in my psychology for motivation class we call that self-handicapping.  instead of actually doing the work you diminish its relevance in your life…  or you say oh well, even if i got a bad grade, it’s because i had too many drinks last night.  it seems that self-handicapping is all about making excuses.  and i am tired of that.  tired of making excuses…  i want to just do… do do do…

pretty soon i am going to start a tea club i think.  if everything works out, i won’t have to get a job next semester.  i will be starting the club and taking five classes.  tomorrow i have to work out my schedule…  so that i know what classes im going to take.  i know that i will be taking research and methods for psychology, which is a ball buster…  and i will take the psychology of language which is another rough cognition class, maybe another two psychology courses and some other elective… hopefully something really easy!

i pray that i will be able to make it without getting a job, because i don’t need that added stress of making money.  hell, i will even take out more loans if it means that i can be at one with my studies.  that’s the reason why i came out here, study, get that degree, then get another degree hopefully.  i have big plans, and im signing up with the system right now that says the more i educate myself the better chances i have at getting a good job.  it’s more than just the job though.  hopefully i will be able to speak my piece when i get those degrees, really explore my way of life and share it with people.  sometimes that degree gives you the ability and potential in really sharing what you have to share with the world.  sometimes the world works that way, which is too bad…


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