so here i am, at home in the NYC part of the world, aware that in a week or two this place will drive me totally fucking insane, but also that around the two week marker i will be en route to/already in colorado with two of the good folks and their dog, irie. i've never been to colorado before, but according to aviva, it is the shit. so, there's definitely a gaggle of acid casualties in the woods on the slope of some rocky mountain, that is not far off, and i don't know what to think of that.
in other news, in no particular order: my hair is as long as it's ever been, which is hot, and kind of annoying; i need a new harmonica, for this one has had the piss bent out of it; i am taller than i was in january, because god's joke on me is growing; we climbed to the top of arethusa falls, and that was dope; my camera is not broken, and that surprises me; i need to draw and write, because i still enjoy doing that; as time goes on, i find myself more and more anxious for skidmore, who has been sending me mail; blah blah blah, self indulgence, blah blah blah.
it's unreasonable to think that anyone reads this nonsense, huh?
motherfuckers can't keep a dog still.
so i'm nineteen, i guess. undoubtedly that was the best birthday/birthday weekend i've ever had. friday i went to work and moved heavy ass furniture around the doerr's warehouse, drank a beer with my boss at the end of the day, then went home and read, then went out and got drunk. saturday and sunday i went camping and swimming with my friends down here in southern mississippi at the best swimming hole ever. that was that, pretty much. amazing times.
in two weeks i'm on another two week road trip back up northeast, where i'll remain for as little time as possible. i'll be in NYC for a while and then boston and vermont for a while, and then another road trip out west until i've got to shack up in skidmore, which i will burn down, figuratively or literally. there. blah blah blah. hope y'alls all right. be easy, greasies.
Fri, Mar. 10th, 2006, 09:53 am
fuck all y'all.
Sun, Feb. 19th, 2006, 03:36 am
basically i don't have very many problems. sometimes i worry about money (apparently that's part of being a responsible adult), sometimes i worry that my body's worse off than i suspect, sometimes i get caught up in not being focused on one thing. the worst things are the few fears, mainly the one where i'm scared that i'll go to college and end up losing all of this energy i've got and ending up feeling dead in one way or another for any number of things, but even so, i've got the feeling that i'll make out well at skidmore. the truth is that for the first time in years i find myself genuinely enjoying my life. i think that's because i've learned to submit to a lot of things. i got tired of trying to bust a circle into a square, so i just let things do what they want. i figure that i shouldn't make any specific plans, since big sky don't seem to factor in my plans. and due to that some things make me sad. i guess that i won't see many people a lot any more, that i won't have opportunities to really catch up with a decent number of people. and that i can't bring everything i want to bring with me, like my desk. eh. new orleans on thursday, mardis gras next tuesday. another number.
down south in new orleans,
the prettiest girls i've ever seen.
sparkling eyes, lips so sweet,
we make love to the rhumba beat.
my ship's at anchor,
got a one-way ticket ain't comin back.
life's a pleasure,
love's a dream,
down south in new orleans.
my dark-eyed baby, i'm on my way,
back into your arms to stay,
i'm tired of work, i wanna play,
i'll make sweet love to you night and day.
i wanna drink too loose all through the street,
wanna kiss all the creole gals i see,
drink all day, dance all night,
do it wrong till i do it right.
i'm at home, which feels really weird to say, which also more or less means we're done with the better part of this road trip shit; ben's down in Our Nation's Capital with his family, i'm going to put a few weeks up here in the northeast part of this country before i make my first long term commitment in who the fuck knows how long to mama nola. and man, i sure as hell didn't come back here to sit alone in this apartment in front of this computer. i miss my mom like fucking whoa!, but she's in montreal till tomorrow rolls around. i was driving across the george washington bridge last night and i saw the NYC skyline and my heart exploded, i was so fucking happy to be in a place where i actually fucking indepently know my way around. i came home and took a shower and dropped some shit off and then i went downtown with some bronx people, and we walked all around the lower east side and union square, and i just started feeling really fucking depressed. we walked by all these places that are loaded with a shit ton of memories from the years that i managed to somehow survive, like standing at a table in pie (that pizza place off union square) sharing pizza and soda, like waiting for nora in one of the studios at peridance, like going to sam's shows at arlene's grocery with twenty other TIV folks. and there's more! and that's only downtown! i don't know. it put my head in a knot, made me ridiculously aware that, for me, anyway, one of the biggest parts of this growing up shit has been getting as far away as i can from things that i loved at one point. with that in mind, i got drunk with all these kids i've known since grammar school until way early in the morning, and that is the best thing, being easy in the company of excellent people who've known you forever. and now here i am, calling people, bathing in my music (my stupid fucking ipod erased itself in november, so i've gone without my music for two months, which was kinda what i think not having hands and eyes would feel like), doing this dumb internet bullshit. i don't know. uhh, the actual purpose of this post was to say, "i'm home, i'll be here until sometime in the third week of february, then i'm moving to new orleans," but i guess i like hearing myself talk. here's a song.
now i've watched you sitting there,
seen the passers-by all stare,
like you have no place to go,
but there's so much they don't know bout apple scruffs.
you've been stood around for years,
seen my smiles and touched my tears,
now it's been a long, long time,
and you've been on my my my my apple scruffs.
apple scruffs, apple scruffs,
how i love you, how i love you.
in the fog and in the rain,
through the pleasures and the pain,
on the step outside your stand,
with your flowers in your hand, my apple scruffs.
while the years they come and go,
now your love must surely show me
that beyond all time and space,
we're together face to face, my apple scruffs.
apple scruffs, apple scruffs,
how i love you, how i love you.
you are a homo, i have decided, but golly gee, what a homo! hope everything's gravy.
you da giraffe, yo. bookoo crazy, too. i think i don't have to say anything else to you; you just seem to be down with most shit. so yeah, tell darren and all them scranton motherfuckers whatup. we'll kick it when i swing back in that direction.
i saw mike stynes in harvard in october. basically, harvard is a fucking strange ass place. mike's alive and well, though, seems to be having a hard working good time, because he's crazy. he bought me five ounces of sweet virginia tobacco and 600 smoking black rolling papers. i would write you a letter on paper, but, no, sorry, man, no can do, i just suck. i hope NYU is not busting your ass too much, and you're becoming quentin tarantino, because that is written in the stars, man, like, totally. i reckon i'll see you soon, bastard.
i don't know your number, because i am what the people indigenous to north america refer to as "a fuck up," as in, "matthew, you're a fuck up." i think i'll be in NYC for a week and a half or two weeks in a little while, so, you should take me out with your friends and get me roaring drunk, we should play the shoe game (to be explained later), and i'll tell you about my chainsaw, twinkletoes. sound good? my phone number is (six four six) five four eight - seven four nine nine.
what happened to you?
so i am at this cafe in vancouver where it is legal to smoke weed, which is bizarre, because the USA is full of paranoid crazies. there are a lot of homeless people in vancouver, drug addicts, insane people, people with no luck or no brains. it is sad. last night, in a span of 35 minutes sitting outside, different people: bummed cigarettes; sold me a damned good drawing for money for a place to spend the night; offered me a three dollar blowjob and begged for cigarette butts and pennies; talked to me about living in real life kurt vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions; asked me if i sold ketamine, blow, crack, weed. it was weird. in every city i've visited, there are people like that who i have met. what to do, what to do. i'm gonna go write. g'day, mates.
so now that i've been away from new orleans for about two weeks in the bay area california (up and down san francisco and berkeley by myself and with others, i've seen nora in santa cruz and she's alive and well and happy) and i've been inside a house with things just for me, like a shower and a bed with distressingly comfortable pillows and blankets, and i've had all this time to do things like sit in front of a computer and write and read e-mails and the livejournal friends page and books and the newspaper and all the other things that compose the outside world, i've firmly concluded that, no, thank you, i'd rather have some absurdly chaotic place where i can just exist without any old expectations or obligations, i'd much rather not be stuck doing the same old same old same old. i want to be everywhere doing everything at once, too, i want to be stuck to the outside of things and also nestled in the exact center, i want to scream and run around and spook the hell out of people and be serene and observant totally at ease, i have a bunch of places i absolutely can't live without and a ton of people i could be best friends with and a bunch of girls that ought to be my wife, i am stuck basically. i'd feel better if i didn't feel like i was running all over the place to escape this stuck feeling, probably i'd also feel better if i didn't feel like i was failing miserably at everything except running into it over and over and over. i'm really worried about my relationship with my education thus far and its implications for my unavoidable college experience, but i'm also pretty damned excited about getting back into a steady groove of being creative and possibly learning a bunch of hands-on scientific shit and be in school with Interesting Young Folks, if i can elbow my way into that sort of shit. i also want all the things that have vanished and changed and died, but i've been pretty successful at severing myself from that. definitely not completely successful, never that, but, hey, nobody ever wins anything anymore. i'm tired of livejournal, and i hate the internet and computers again. i'm gonna go read faulkner and plan my rise to power, you know, tweak my brain a little bit more, because the good lord knows i haven't fucked profoundly enough with myself in the last however goddamned long it's been.
san francisco brutally kicked my ass on new year's eve. i got as strange and crazy and riled up as i could, and it fucking beat the shit out of me. number one, it is ridiculously expensive, like new york city. secondly, everywhere cards, unlike mama nola. also unlike mama nola and a lot like NYC, everyone is impersonal except for the homeless people, and unlike NYC, san francisco hasn't "cleaned up" yet. a poor man came up to ben because he had "a twinkling in his eye", and he gave him a kiss and a hug, and he told us, "if you don't take a CD, I'LL KILL YOU!" and then he cackled and gave us hugs. i got a mozart symphony for bassoon and something else that i can't remember. besides ralph, everyone is either ambiguous in terms of sexuality, sex, sexual appeal, meaning that at first, three things are up for grabs: the a person's sex, whether or not hey're at all attractive, and their sexuality. it's really, really confusing. and there are a ton of hills. i slept all through january first, that's how badly my ass got kicked. the moral of this story is that if you find yourself at home in san francisco, you are insane.
right now, i am in berkeley, sitting in my house, the van, stealing wireless internet, which still freaks me out a lot. i'm about to see a movie with the honeycomb monster, ben. right now the weather is fucking awful, cold and rainy as a bitch, but i'magonna go outside anyways.
for me it usually takes a change of perspective to make real sense of most things. for example, if i am smoking trees or getting drunk sitting down inside somewhere, standing up and walking around outside will show me just how zooted i am. with new orleans, the same applies. we left louisiana this morning, and now we are in dallas. for the past month or so i've been living down there working and helping out and checking out the scene, and, well, i don't know. very little made a lot of sense. the whole place is just a notch below anarchy. the first people we spoke to were military police driving hummers. they don't do much, though, and the police are even more useless. FEMA and the red cross give the whole disaster relief a good try (i definitely respect the red cross, not so much FEMA) but my gedneral impression is that there is a good deal of neglect from the powers that be. i split up most of my time working my ass off with private contractors and helping set up this community kitchen with a ramshackle group of hippies and weirdos and general outcasts, convicts and mad scientists and workers and spirit chasers and voodoo priests, most of them excellent folks. mostly i was doing demolition work, cleanups, gutting houses, which is the removal of every contaminated/destroyed/unsalvageable object in the house. basically, you suit up in your tyvex outer layer, galoshes, respirators, gloves, safety goggles, the whole works, then you remove all furniture and appliances, then all clothes and toys and personal objects, then carpets, then damaged sheetrock, insulation then all the nails, and you have the inside frame of a house. it is exhausting and exhilirating work. it is also ridiculously filthy and unhealthy. there are immense mold growths on everything, all the waterlogged parts of a house are ridiculously contaminated, you are exposed to fiberglass dust and sheetrock dust and slate dust, asbestos insulation, varying species of bacteria. christmas eve i was finishing a ceiling tearout, cleanup, and replacement; i spent the better part of the day on a ladder installing new sheets with a vietnam vet and an ex-convict. a lot of the guys in my crew were wanted men or ex-cons, there was a junkie, a few crackheads, and one of my best friends was the new orleans acid guy in the late eighties until he was arrested by US marshalls and DEAs. the city is wonderful and impressively vivacious for something so dilapidated and abandoned. the bar and live music scene was amazing, wonderful jazz and blues and rock and all sorts of things. you can kind of tell what the city was like before the hurricane came. it is scary for me to imagine that. at any rate, i am in love with the place and the people. i haven't had a chance to read a book or write or draw or do anything normal for me in a very long time, but i don't mind. i am learning new shit and meeting new people, and hell, no one there cards me for alcohol. but here i am in dallas, thinking like i'm still in n'awlins. i spent tonight hanging out with ben's friend and her beautiful texan friends. we're driving to san francisco this week, hopefully in time for new year's eve. this time of year always sets my head reeling. 2005 went fast. i don't know what to expect for 2006, but it seems like whatever it is, it'll be weird as hell and probably a good deal of fun.