And one last thanks...

I'm sitting in the new office working on my book for class and John's in the music room playing and singing on guitar. He's playing all kinds of music that I got to know very well while I was in Charlottesville, or around that time.  That time was, I think, the hardest time of my life. I was very alone and very scared. I don't think I understood what the words 'alone' or 'scared' felt like till then ---- what the words represent to their fullest meanings.... I hope I never know it again. But, that music (lots of Wilco and Ryan Adams - among others) got me through that time. So until now, although I love the music, I've always been a little somber when I hear it because it reminds me of such a sad time. 

Listening to him playing it now makes me happy. I'm so overwhelmed with love and gratitude for the people who have stood by me through that horrible time --- which is finally over. (as cheesy as it sounds...) And who gave me beautiful friendships, family and memories during a time when it seemed like nothing could be beautiful. I don't need to be sad for it anymore, because it's time to leave it where it belongs: in that apartment in Charlottesville, in a relationship that was broken when it started, in the past. 

Lately I've been sleeping so weird, waking up numerous times during the night, having 'waking dreams' where I hear what's going on around me and sometimes see the window or ceiling by my bed... maybe my eyes are open part of the time. I had decided that the bed was in a bad place... Feng shui... maybe it is. But, it's probably my mind working through this last step of letting go. I've always worked things out in my sleep, with my dreams. I am clearly (at least to myself) affected each day by what happened to me each night. So, it only makes since that I take this last plunge overnight. I may be a little tired, but it's worth it. 

So, if I'm a little odd the next few weeks, if I cry at a song or act like a bitch in the morning. If I shut the door and don't come out for an hour or two, don't return your call, or space out during family dinner nights, I'm just making that last step. 

And this is one last thanks to ALL of you who have held my hand through everything.

thanks.

"What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories."

hahaha

Im out. Yall have a good year

Today I got a text message from a very good friend I grew up with. It said exactly what the title suggests, "Im out. Yall have a good year" It seems impersonal, but it was probably the easiest way to say goodbye.

Joey is heading to Iraq today. By now he is probably somewhere in Europe right now thinking, "fuckin' Frenchies!" and making jokes about dicks and vaginas and drinking Budweiser in Waleska, Georgia with his step-sister and her crazy, redneck husband. Then again, I might have it all completely wrong. Joey might be excited about going to war. He might be ready to "shoot some towelheads." I don't know. It's hard to tell. (Its most likely the latter.)

In case you are wondering, I called him as soon as I got the text. I couldn't let a friend go away for a year and not talk to him before he left. It was a simple conversation. One that, as I've mentioned before didn't reveal either truth about how he felt. But he said he would call if when he got a chance. (So, if you see me jump up from the table while we are playing cards or watching tv online, don't think that I'm being rude.)

I'm not going to be that person that says, "I've been touched by the war." I haven't. I just have a friend who is on his way there now, and who will be there for a year. I've always been against this war from the beginning. I remember watching Afghanastan being bombed in a hotel room in Virginia Beach in between soccer games. My friend Chase, his dad, and my dad were all there. It made me think of the comforts that we have in this country that we take for granted. We don't hear bombs going off or guns firing in rapid rounds or hear tanks going by all the time. Taking an eye for and eye never seemed to be the right thing in my mind. I'm not that type of person.

All in all, I really want my friend to come back home so that I can take him to Las Vegas and get him drunk so he forgets about it all. What I don't want is to have to remember him from the bland phone conversation we had the day he left. What we should all do is have a good year and be excited when people like Joey come back to greet us with a sincere smile.

the Uglysuit

Ok, two things to share. First of all, I think I'm in love. It's a band called The Uglysuit and I haven't stopped listening to them. I'm obsessed, addicted and I don't ever want to stop. This album is incredible and made me fall in love with headphones again. They're as dynamic as Phish but with more cohesive songwrtiting. The lead singers voice is the voice of the windy city of chicago. Chilling, uplifting, heartbreaking, beautiful. The guitar hooks are reminiscent of early Coldplay but more swooping like Travis. Whatever the combination, it works and its beautiful.

Second of all

www.tinymixtapes.com

this is pretty cool. People submit ideas for mix tapes like "Songs to listen to while drinking coffee and watching the sunrise and wondering why the girl you had sex with the night before left before you got up." or "Songs to play at my job at the childrens museum"

just thought I'd share.

Jawbone, Kentucky

I sat on the front porch for over 3 hours, listening to music and writing about each song as it came on. An experiment I've tried before with mixes, but never had the patience to sit through a whole mix and write your justification for each song on the mix to the person you made it for. I listened to the music and the crickets and the sound of the neighbors sprinkler in the cold with tea and a sweatshirt on. It was one of the most theraputic things I've done in a long time. Writing and listening and just being outside while doing it was like meditation. It focused all of my senses on the moment. My left side and rights sides of my brain were simultaneously operating and communicating with each other, and I had a serene sense of being and connection with Rachel. I could imagine her listening to the mix and reading the letter and he reaction to certain phrases or songs.

Then I cam upstairs and saw my two room mates, each doing their own thing. One, laying on the recliner with a bowl of popcorn, headphones on and a movie on her laptop. The other, taking an on-line quiz for one of his Philosophy classes and we joke like old college buddies should. I felt inspired. I felt happy. I felt that even though America is in such a terrible mess, everything we've ever thought about American government will soon change, I'm not making enough money to get by,and neither is my mother or grandmother I know that this house will be a sanctuary from all of that. A place that like-minded people can live and write and read and learn together. Learning how to make the world a better place, as soon as we get around to changing it. Good music everywhere all the time. Laughter, jokes, spontenaeity, coffee, beer, sushi, card games, these things are what make it all worth it.

Dear Captain Zissou.

I am 11 and a half years old
and live in Jawbone, Kentucky.
A creek runs behind our house
where I live with my mother.
She met you once some years ago...
and I collect and catalog amphibians,
reptiles and insects.
I don't know what this one is called,
so I named it myself.

You are probably my one of,
if not the, favorite person I've ever studied.
I plan to be either,
"A, "an oceanographer...
"B, "an architect, "C, "a pilot.

Thank you very much for your good work.
Sincerely, Ned Plimpton,
Blue Star Cadet, Zissou Society.

P.S. Do you ever wish
you could breathe underwater?

I still wish
I could breathe underwater.

Me too, Ned.

- Fluorescent snapper!
- What?

Really? What's that?

- A good sign. The last time
we saw that big shitkicker, he -

Somethin' popped up there,
didn't it?

I heard a pin snap loose
in the rotator mechanism.

This is gonna hurt.

Ned!

Ned!

- Ned!
- Hey, Stevesy.

Are you okay?

I think I'm okay.

What happened?
Did we hit something?

Most likely not.

I think maybe
the pushrod failed.

I'm sorry, Ned. I should've scrapped
this chopper years ago.

You know, maybe
I should've autorotated...

and performed a high bank
through our descent.

We might've crashed
a little softer.

Probably wouldn't have made
any difference though.

Oh.

Consume Less

Watch This.

Rednecks...

Despite the fact that John and I listened to only thirty seconds of the Randy Newman song last night, that is not what this post is about. When I worked on Monday night, a probably-self-proclaimed "Redneck Woman" stumbled in the front door of the hotel. Her friend who bobbed back-and-forth past the desk a few minutes earlier had told me that the girl outside was drunk on tequila. (I have a feeling she was too...an infant's first steps are more graceful...) So, she stumbles in and asks for the key to a room. I hadn't seen her so I asked her for a last name (trying to keep her away from guests that she might not know). The conversation then went something like this:

Me: What's the last name?
Redneck Woman (hereafter RW): Carroll, Gaitlin, Munson, Gaitlin, I don't know! Ow! [RW fell against the wall] Don't be a prick!
Me: I'm not being a prick.
RW: It's room 121!! Ow! Fuck! [RW dropped her head onto the counter but happened to knick her forehead on the top of a clipboard] God damnit! That fucking hurt! ...don't be a little prick!
[Key placed in RW's hand] Thanks, sweet heart...Ow! Fuck! God Damnit! [RW fades away, cursing, as she heads towards room 121]

The other reason that I told this story is that I found out today that she is from Texas, which brings more evidence to the family case to put a bio-dome over the state of Texas so that no one can leave (or get in). I guess I will have to inform the government when little miss prick goes back - that way no one outside of the state will ever have to deal with this redneck bitch ever again.

"We're rednecks...And we don't know our ass from a hole in the ground" - Randy Newman "Rednecks"

Jenny: I love you guys
Pause...
John: I-I love you too.
Pause...
John: Brett, do you have something to say?
Brett: What... oh, I thought she said I love you John.

Family Love Paper Reid

 What's the Deal With Homework?

Short People

Nobody has written on here in a while.  So, I will.  Last night was a lot of fun.  It was one of the most fun nights I've had in a long time.  My friend Rachel was always disapointed for me that my living situation wasn't the way that shared housing should be.  We were soured and frustrated with each other and we had to share such a small space in a country in which we didn't speak the language.  It was kind of hard most of the time, but I learned a lot.  I learned to never sit back and let something bother you because the other person might not be aware that they are doing anything.  I had a lot of festering bitterness toward Ilana and Luke and I eventually realized how harmful that can be.  I cleaned up after Ilana to spite her most of the time and that's just weird and passive.  I also learned that "passive" is an American infliction and people of all of the other countries that I met, will openly and honestly tell you if you are bothering them and will do so from the minute they meet you but still be your best friend.   Especially the Germans.  Those are some honest people right there.  Strangers will correct you if don't know to stand on the right on an escalator.

Anyways, I guess one important thing is to realized that we're friends, but also roommates and sometimes they need to be separate interactions.  Can we just talk as roommates for a minute or two and then switch back over to friends?  I just don't want any bitterness when honesty can prevent it.  Even if honesty has to come at 3 in the morning and ends with "I love you man."  I'm okay with that.

I love living with you guys.  This is going to be a fun year full of love and long nights full of good music and Randy Newman impressions.  

PS Check out the photos I posted on facebook.