Things I bring up at dinner parties

The fact that my parents disagree over how to hang the toilet paper. (The loose end in front or back)
The things a boxer says in my roommate's documentary. Examples: Team G(reatest) let's go, straight to the top. You smell that? That's some greatness in the oven. If you believe you can achieve.
That I made English spinach pastries, because I missed having them for breakfast everyday.
Things I do instead of writing. Like looking for sweater vests on Ebay. Even though I don't remember wanting one. Or buying some nice wrapping paper. In case I want to wrap something for someone someday.
How awkward it is when you still have a full plate at a dinner party, while everyone else is finished. (True story)

Thanksgiving dinner

Ingredients
The obvious: Turkey, mashed potatoes, beans, pies, brussel sprouts.
Not so obvious: The questions 'if you would have a threesome would you prefer two males or two females?' and 'if you would have to kill your best friend, would you tell him and ask for forgiveness or do it quietly in his sleep?', also lots of comparisons between weed, cigarettes and alcohol and which is worse, and some politics, which I can't quite recall.
Games: Mafia. The person in charge of guiding this game took it very seriously, which contributed to the appropriate tense atmosphere. He yelled at us a couple of times because we were too loud. Also charades. One of the assignments was the film: 'Everything you have ever wanted to know about sex but were afraid to ask.'
Obstacles: One of our neighbors knocked on our door because the elevator was broken. A fight almost broke out between him and one of our slightly intoxicated guests. His girlfriend calmed him down and gave him some water. Nothing like a little drama at a dinner party.

In Between Phase

My sister hates nothing more than what she calls an 'In Between Phase.' An in between phase entails people hanging out without a real purpose. Before going to see a movie for instance, or after having gone someplace and not yet willing to go home. People gathering somewhere and just 'waiting.' Without even a drink, or having an important conversation that makes the event somehow meaningful. People hanging out in a bar, or at a party is different. That's an event, an act, something to write down in your calendar.
These past weeks have felt like a continuous in between phase.

Book titles

Of books I will never write:

Everyone's Gay - A story full of disappointments
Today I did nothing - A short novel in three parts
The Blank Page - A horror story
A Girl and a Couple - A collection of essays on being alone
I will bake my own bread - A book of unfulfilled desires
I read War and Peace and other lies - Blushing Girl Tales
My Life Is a Sitcom - A more tragic than comic tragicomedy

Sandy

A hanging crane, hovering high above,
trees hugging concrete,
Cars floating by like rubber duckies,
My sister has no power,
drinking coffee from a BBQ,
I sit on a bed far away,
And try to remember the lyrics to a song,
from Grease.

Nr 153 in the list of unexpected topics of conversation

Judith Butler. These past weeks I have spent more time talking, thinking and arguing about Judith Butler than I would ever deem necessary. Today she came up again. I went to a performance (or rather what seemed like a spoof by comedians ridiculing the art world. If they had promoted it that way, I would've had a much better time. Unfortunately this was not the case. It included a bunch of cameras, projection screens, a guy singing a children's song in a microphone, a guy telling some confusing story about going to a museum, and a bunch of dancers doing typical modern dance movements to a loud migraine inducing soundscape which was so penetrating it seemed like a subway, or tube, could burst though the walls at any time. In the artist description, the artist referenced 'performative impulses' as an important part of his art. I noticed a friend had circled the world 'performative' on the flyer they handed out. He said this world (basically coined by Miss Butler) was used wrongly and could not have been placed in a more inappropriate context. He was not a great Butler fan, but felt the need to point out this brazen misuse of her word. I'm not sure how circling the word helped, but I suppose it's the least he could do. My sisters roommate studies art history, and gender roles in art in particular. I told her to dress up as Judith Butler for halloween.

Food

Indian. Tayabbs. An enormous queue (someone told me today that in England there are queues for everything. Perhaps they get distressed or uninterested if there isn't one.) but thanks to the company of my Indian friend and her sister we got VIP seating. The food was excellent too. Turkish. Also a queue, but that was to be expected. Spicy eggplant with yoghurt. Vietnamese. Little Hanoi. Pho. Was so hungry I also finished one of my friend's dishes. Prepackaged sandwiches. I had something with tuna. Someone else got the one called 'just ham.' I didn't trust this. They must've added something and lied about it. Spinach roll. The british love everything with turnover dough. Or so it seems. Vinegar and salt crisps. Bananas. I think I might get a potassium overdose if I keep eating as many as I am.

A French girl

Today 15:30, Tate Modern: I don't know anyone in this city I decided to come here for three weeks but I have no idea why. I'm staying with a friend of a friend and he goes to university and has two jobs. I only saw him once when he came in to take a shower. I miss everyone in Paris. When I arrived at the airport I just wanted to get back in the plane. Why did I come here? What am I doing here?

Field trip

Things said during visit to the Schwarzwald with my boss and his employees: If Heidegger's hut is more than a kilometer from here, we shouldn't go.* Do we have to do the performance? I bake bread and sell it to the people in Ilpedam. They didn't have a bakery there. Since we only need twenty percent of the people who currently have essential jobs for our survival, why are we working such long days? I spent some time with her parents on her birthday. She had a party to attend. They were very quiet. You don't think there's a big group of women who have sex with their boyfriends when they don't want to? I think there's a big group of men too. Women never ask if their ass is too small. When I worked as a caterer and a man asked me to come to his hotel room for 2000 euros. That's when I decided not to become a prostitute. What's the name of that political analyst on TV? Her I find attractive. There's something vulgar about being sexy. I was sitting at the bar, and there she was. Of course she had to break up with her boyfriend first. He's a dentist. We are currently negotiating about an open relationship. It's not my hipbones, more my calves actually.

*We didn't end up seeing Heidegger's hut, although we were very close.

Today

Was not such a good day at the museum. My stories felt uninspired and the only person who responded basically ended up asking me out. Yesterday was better. I complimented a couple, in their sixties, on the way they were standing (relaxed intimacy, connected yet not restricting) and they looked at each other and smiled. They went on to tell me they were actually not together. Not right now at least. They used to date when they were thirty. For some reason they broke up, they didn't specify why, moved away from each other, and got married to other people. When they broke up however, they agreed they would get in touch again when they were both fifty. On her fiftieth birthday he called her and they met each other in London. After that initial meeting they would meet one weekend a year, without their spouses knowing. They seemed to genuinely enjoy every minute with each other. Which makes sense after you realize they only have 172800 minutes a year.

Missed Messages

Heading there now, it's 74 Tavistock, my phone is buggin, call Darrens. At Barbican Cafe. Come! We moved to a pub called Jugged Hare at 49 Chiswell St. Right next to Barbican. Come! Fuuuuck! Abort mission, tv here is broken...stay tuned. Portobelloroad and westway, place called la plaza Just got out of tube What messages? I guess not.*

*I never ended up going to these locations, since I received all of these messages three days later. London and I are not syncing up right.

Bad things

In chronological order: Broke off a relationship. Was late. Got yelled at by boss. An awkward moment with a visitor. Had drinks with friend. Got into a fight with him about a miscommunication and principles. He had wanted me to do something, and I didn't do it. I had disappointed him as a friend and colleague. He wouldn't look me in the eye. There were two other people present who obviously felt uncomfortable and started talking about the salty chocolate mousse. Phone ran out of money, so I couldn't get in touch with the person I was supposed to meet up with. Got home and started crying. My sister's roommate might think I am unstable. She might not be wrong.

London words

Yesterday I started working at the Tate Modern. And by work I mean run around, follow my own rules and tell people very personal things about myself. I started talking to two women about falling, being and wanting to be in love. I asked what they thought, or what their experience was. One of the women became flustered. The other woman looked at me and said shook her head. Then the woman started crying. Because I had no clue how to react, or how one was supposed to react to something like this, I just told her that everything would be alright. I sort of stroked her back a bit, in a desperate attempt to emphasize those obvious and supposedly soothing words. Of course I couldn't be sure, since I didn't know why she was crying and what her story was, but I figured it was almost always true. Unless of course the love of her life had just died and the chances of her ever finding anyone remotely as lovely are slim because she is an agoraphobe who is a mute who has an inherent fear of intimacy which took her former husband twenty years to break through. But let's not assume the worst. I am afraid most London days will be like this.

Break ups

Tonight a friend who had just been broken up with by his girlfriend abroad, was conflicted about whether or not to go see her. Either to make up or to say goodbye. Hearing about other people's break ups is painful. The things that are being said are always too familiar. Feelings are always conflicted. Words always become insufficient and meaningless. One moment they say it's definitely over, and then they send a text message saying: 'How are you doing, babe?' People are so scared of saying goodbye, they fool themselves into thinking they don't have to. Perhaps it's time for a universal break up flow chart.

Bag Index

Index of my bag as of September 17: 1. A book with traffic rules. 2. A receipt of a package delivered to Bernard Schechtman, the accountant I work for in New York. He had me send it to Great Neck, to a building which I suspect to be an elderly home. 3. Sunglasses. Not sure why. 4. A businesscard of a shop in Hum. Hum is the smallest town in the world. People there invented their own language too. This shop was the smallest shop in Hum. It sold moonshine liquors and homemade soaps. When we asked the man who worked there whether people actually lived in Hum, he said his girlfriend did. She lived next to the store. He had to commute every day from a larger town in the area. For some reason this struck me as very romantic. Even though it didn't make sense for the girl to not just have him live with her. Then again, being pragmatic is almost never romantic. Besides, maybe she had the smallest apartment in Hum. 5. A book about Cannibalism. (A novel about a man eating his lover. Written by a Belgian, obviously.) 6. Migraine pills. Always. 7. Change. Currencies: Pound (Stuck at Heathrow in October for 4 hours and had to do something. That something turned out to be spending money. Do not remember on what.) Kunas (Do not think I will need these any time soon.) 8. Paper handkerchiefs. Got these for free at a pharmacy in Kassel when I was buying nose spray. I have bought nose spray in every country I have ever been to. They've become useful souvenirs.

Topics

Dinner tonight: Pasta, with lentils, bacon, onion, garlic and tomato sauce. Other ingredients: A baby girl falling from the stairs. She has a bump, but seemed to be alright for the rest. A long conversation about Dutch politics (obviously). Would it be appropriate to disregard a party even though they get a lot of votes? Is democracy a positive thing? We spoke so loud one of the kids hugged his dad and told him not to look at me anymore. Also: Money talk. And a project we've been talking about for years. They have hours of footage of a couple traveling the world in the sixties bought at a fleamarket. We want to make it into a feature length film, with a voice over. (It's a couple who never had children, and who we, the filmmakers, don't know. What happens when stories aren't told? When a bloodline dies? Where do the memories go? etc.) We still haven't developed this film. Again. We've been talking about this for years. Perhaps some things are better conversation topics than anything else. Then we listened to music in silence for a while.

TV

In an attempt to watch something on television that would kill the least amount of braincells, I decided to go with the BBC. A safe choice. My other options were 'Toddlers and Tiara's,' something about expensive NY apartments, and a reality show about a family (maybe they were famous, I had never heard of them) where a girl tried to get her driving license, but had trouble doing so. And they say America is going through an economic crisis.
Anyway. A news item came on about North Korea and their plans to launch a satellite. Apparently it was the first time ever that journalists were invited to this North Korean 'NASA' like base. They showed the room with computers and some other stuff, and the voice over told us about what we were seeing. Then they cut to a swimming pool with a big water slide, and a bunch of Koreans in colorful bathing suits, coming down the slide. The voice over went: 'I am not sure why they decided to show us this. It is a swimming pool. Perhaps they wanted to show us the elevator you can use to get to the highest diving board.'
Maybe North Korea just wanted to show the rest of the world that they use technology for good too. I mean-an elevator to the highest diving board? Impressive.

Girl

Today I went to get a manicure around Murray hill, since I just finished work in that neighborhood. A young giggly Indian girl was assigned to me. She quietly hummed along with some of the songs on the radio. Then 'True colors' came on. She asked me who sang this song-she didn't know it. I guessed it was Cindy Lauper. "She's from the 80's" I said. She nodded. "She has such a sweet voice," the girl said. Then she continued painting on my nail polish.

Messages received

Ten is good. It's called Jack's wife Frida.This girl I know works there. On Lafayette near Select. I love a breakfast date, plus there's little chance of us getting drunk!

It was crazy but I knew the outcome before I watched it.

Lazy sounds good! Show is thursday 12-6.

Yes, totally unorthodox.

Ik ben zenuwachtig.

Weak

Alcohol consumed this week:

5-8 Budweiser (The dash is because I'm leaning towards 8, but don't quite remember if that's because it felt like 8, or was actually 8 bottles. It was an art show with not such nice art.)
2 Jack Daniels (At friends house, on ice, accompanied with cherry pie at 3 AM.)
1 glass of red wine (Was meeting a friend at wine bar, they had already ordered a bottle.)
1 Jack Daniels in plastic cup (At a speak easy bar where they played a lot of salsa. Consequently danced some salsa too. There was a Columbian man there who told me the only way to speak to girls is to dance with them. Also, if you can't dance in Colombia you never get laid. He was wearing a polka dot shirt.)
1 Negra Modela, 1 Corona (At Salsa bar. It got hot and made everyone thirsty.)
3 proseccos (Celebratory for the new year. Or rather, Chinese new year, I suppose.)
3 glasses of white wine (Following the prosecco.)
2 bohemia (At Mexican restaurant.)

This is not in chronological order.

Stories

It was cold, getting dark, and she was thinking about money, the lack of it, and what to make for dinner. Her bicycle was getting a flat tire, she could feel it when she hit a bump in the street. Her three year old son sat in the front seat of her bicycle and seemed oblivious, the way only children can be. In the corner of her eye she saw a man on a bicycle getting closer behind her. He had a daughter about the same age, who was babbling to herself, clinching onto his thick winter coat. She recognized him from something, but wasn't sure from what. An actor? Someone she worked with? Or did he look like someone she knew? They passed an ice skating rink, one especially built for the holidays. Loud music was blasting from the speakers and teenagers were leaning on the railing. She looked at the man again, and remembered. How strange and oddly coincidental. Ten years ago, when she still thought she had to do everything as soon as possible, and as a result did almost everything, mostly boys, she had met a boy and for some strange reason they ended up on a skating rink similar to this one. They had kissed for a while in the middle of the crowd, and she had felt very exposed, but in a good way. She hadn't even known his name, which was part of the excitement. Nothing had come of it, she had gone home and had dinner with her parents. Peas and chicken. It all tasted better than usual. She looked at him again, and at his daughter. She should've turned a corner, but decided to cycle next to him one more block. Just to pretend a little longer.