In London, Me And The French Existentialists

Sunday.

No, I do not want to go to your party today.

Just thought I'd tell you.

See you Wednesday. But I don't plan on talking.

In Brussels, Clean-Cut Hostels

Saturday.

Just a tepid petite update.

(Isn't it odd how the human language was organized in such a way that the two words--tepid and petite--could not be merged into a space-length radius without at least a smithereen of muddle-tom. Yes, it is odd because in my opinion those two words just both call to mind the sweetest of pinks and beiges that would go divinely together. But, alas. The two lovers were separated by their definitions! Never... to be... united... under human power.)

Just slight. Here:

I was Lucy. No, not Ms. In-The-Sky-With-Diamonds. Lucy from "Death by Landscape."

I felt like I had entered the picture. Just there, you could find me behind the tree behind the tree behind the tree behind the ones that are actually visible. How I wish I were a painter. I could paint people without even painting them. You don't have to paint them for them to be alive. They can just be there, living behind your painting. Creations need life after life. Why should we be granted so much?

And no, this is not just post-fever talk.

Tomorrow is a very odd day. Not odd, no. Just... cyclical in a way. One year passing from each memory that is all too stark and sudden. It seems surreal now. Like none of it ever occurred in the first place. I find myself doubting the past when I ask myself, "What was I doing at this moment one year ago?"

In Barcelona, Buenos Dias

(Chocolate, le Picasso).

Thursday.

Swine flu is just wonderful, you know?

In Amsterdam, I Got Quite Crazy

(Might have been all those tulips and canals.

Might have been all that hash).

The one day I can play in the snow, I cannot.

Alas. You stupid flu. Why did you have to arrive in such an unreasonable stint of weeks? Mmm. Yes. This is quite the setback. Given the 7 page paper I must write tonight, I am not affable at the present moment.

Not affable one iota.

But at least the snow is dazzling... It's like white gold (or silver... Really, white gold is just silver. Just say it.) falling in pretty little blankets and horses from the white silver clouds. Me gustaria hacer un hombre de nieve... Pero, que lastima. No pude. Hmm.

Wuah, wuah!

So, yes. My Bucket List. I must commence!

So I'll add a couple arbitrary and unfiled thoughts right now:

1) Buy a farm in Arizona, where nothing can grow and nothing can die.

2) Spend a day outside and by myself. Doing nothing.

3) Spend another day going wherever it pleases the eye. The world is immense, why should I be contained to one city?

4) Be valedictorian. (Haha, you-know-who). *Insert a smiley here, although they are against my technological literary belief system*

5) Play "Toothpaste Kisses" for my husband.

6) Sing a capella... Preferably Regina Spektor. I'm thinking "Aching to Pupate" or "I Want to Sing."

7) Forget how to frown.

8) Remember how to laugh and never forget it again.

9) Write a play. Or two.

10) On impulse, buy the stupidest infomercial item at 3 am.

11) Pull an all-nighter.

12) Never become rich.

13) Sing and play guitar on the side of the road. See how many tips I get!

Hmm, well I'm in pretty bad condition right now. Fever... Ewh.

So, I'll write more later.

'Til then, I must begin on my paper! Tootaloo.

In Mont-pier I Stayed In A Chateau

(A boy climbed into my bed and he knew no boundaries).

Monday.

Apparently I have a follower. My sole follower. If you would please comment on this post and inform me as to why you are following my blog, it would be much appreciated. Just an expatiation of the mind. Mind me.

The days are progressively moving yet I am progressively not. It's an odd feeling. It's almost as if I can see myself, the soul dislodged halfway across the room and looking on with desperation. Odd, yes. I am reviving my nostalgia and opening windows. Every time I feel that damned breeze, I can swear that it's summer. Summer, summer. Oh, my summers.
It's the kind of dull pang I can't quite put words to. It'd be like trying to tell poetry with a piano; they are both beautifully tragic, but in their own separate ways.

Oh, Marcello... How I wonder...

How I wonder... Wonder and wander and ponder.

Stupid. I'm as Faust, I can't satiate the need for knowledge. For thought. I'm running painfully dry, and my arid throat needs something. Someone tell me something I can digest. Someone... Does anyone really have conversations these days? We were placed pitifully on a pitiful earth. Given love. Misusing love and having babies and babies that are related and halfrelated to babies and babies. Generation after generation, and we still don't know what we're doing?

It's all we talk about.

So, on a lighter note.. I'm collating a Bucket List.

It Made Me Miss My Moscow Mother

(It made me miss my New York muttdom).

Sunday.

Another week rears its feisty head. Or wags its ever-in-motion tail.

It's called dogification.

The literary technique of applying dog-like characteristics to a person, place, object, or any other of the sort that is not, I repeat: NOT, a dog.

Yes, I'm odd.

Yes, I'm doing my lab report now. My choice, my consensus.

Yes, I'm listening to French music and pretending to understand it.

No, I am not crazy yet. But I'm slowly getting to that lovely destination. Trains need to carry on, yes? No. Yes. I don't know. How am I supposed to know?

I've got nothing to say, yet I'm speaking continuously.

So maybe once I've accumulated "worthy" speech, I'll share it.

Goodmorning, goodmorning.

In Prague, I Knew I'd Been A Witch

(Burnt alive, a pyre of Soviet Kitsch).

Monday.

I didn't have time to include in the last post...

BETTER NEWS PT. II

I'm planning on filming a fan-made video for the song "Not The Same" by Ben Folds. However, how I will manage to do this with my restrictions of time, money, management, hope, and, well... everything... while still filming a worthwhile and somewhat professional video... Yes, that is a true mystery, up there with that Indiana Joneseque crap.

But I will do it.

BEST NEWS

I've found the secret to happiness.