Vacation materials

Today my vacation begins. Things I brought:
John Updike, Rabbit Redux
John Williams, Stoner
A hangover
4 dresses, white, navy, black
Glasses
A little melancholy
Sunscreen
2 pairs of sandals
Bathing suits
Computer

Venice in a bunch of haikus

Cars, robbers, rubbish,
Those things do not exist here,
Instead there's water.

Old architecture,
Under a gloomy sky,
Looks like Hollywood.

A biennale,
Shows us the world of today,
How we feel and think.

But if that's another
Video Installation,
I'm sorry. I can't.

P.S.

When we saw Manet,
In the Palazzo Ducale,
A sigh; history.

Customs

For the first time in ten years of living in America, I was brought back to the infamous little room at customs. The room I have seen many people disappear to, escorted by immigration officers, and not many return from.
Contents of the little room:
Two computers on two desks, with the officers sitting behind them.
In between them a folder holder. Which contained different folders in different colors. My passport was in one of them. I was seated on one of the chairs in the waiting area, which faced these two computers as if we were in a theatre. The performance was rather stern. One of the officers asked a woman from Venezuela multiple times whether she had ever applied for a visa. Her answer remained no. He kept asking.
The waiting room was filled with people, most of them under thirty years old. Most of them from Africa and South America. They had obviously been sitting there for a while.
After about fifteen minutes an officer came from another room and looked at the folder with my passport. He asked me some questions and disappeared again. The rest of the people in the waiting room were silent. Calm even. As if they had been expecting this. As if they woke up every morning knowing something like this would happen.
The officer came out again, asked me some more questions, handed me my passport, and sent me on my way.
The others might still be sitting there; I didn't see any of them behind me when I walked through the sliding doors.

Deadline

There is nothing in the world that makes me want to lounge around the house, and watch stupid television shows, than a writing deadline. 26 pages of 85 done. Aka not even halfway. Aka no reason to look for expensive sunglasses online. Yet.

Overheard at the Moses retirement home Part 2

Mr. Simon, when asked how he was feeling: I'm glad it's nice out so we can go outside, and that the food has gotten so much better since you all have been here. (It is doubtful the food was any different. Maybe he was just distracted.)

A lady whose name I do not remember: I was once in a school play. I played the grandma of two children, but the grandma was dead, so I actually played a photograph of the grandmother. The entire time I had a frame around my upper body. In another play I was a music box. I sat in a box and when someone opened it I sang a song. (After this story she sang a song. It was in Romanian, so I'm not sure what it was about.)
There were also two men in the group that always did everything together. When there was a photography assignment they did it in a duo. They sat next to each other when we made drawings. They were roommates, so presumably they also slept next to each other. They barely spoke, as if they had become one and the same person.

Overheard at the Moses Rosen retirement home, Bucharest

Mr. Pompiliu, 90: A man knows he's old when he loved all the girls, and none of them love him.
(Which was not entirely true. My roommate, a Romanian girl from Cluj, found him incredibly sexy.)
On our last day he said: Although saying goodbye is salty from the tears, may the coffee be sweet.

Mrs. Eva, age unknown: What is this? I don't know who I drink. (She was drinking watered down coffee. She did not believe this.)
Mrs. Adelanou, 80 something about a drawing in the hallway: It says mr. Simon's name on this, but he did not do this drawing. Everybody lies around here. I shall ask someone to erase his name from the drawing. It's just not right.

Mrs. Alenanou about Mrs. Eva's drawing picturing two dogs sniffing each other's behind with the title 'irresistable attraction' : You are obsessed with sex. Everything is always about sex with you.
Mr. Marius about his drawing with the assignment 'your name': I drew a house, because domesticity is very important to me. It is a house in the middle of the forrest, the wilderness. There is a path between this house and the forrest, that leads to the front door.

Mrs. Adelanou: I think people should reconsider communism.
When she gave me an orange: Please, put the orange in your bag. Otherwise they'll wonder where you got it from.
Mrs. Silvianu, 80s, to Mara, 19: You should never wear blue, it's bad luck. And you should take some blonde highlights. They'll make you look years younger.

Mrs. Medi, 104 years old, and a painter: I never really thought so much about what I would do with my life. I never made any decisions. I just waited to see what would happen. I still don't see myself as a real painter. I don't think I am.
Mrs. Odil, 80s, who changes her pink and purple outfits four times a day: My daughter lives in Vienna with her engineer husband. One day he bought her a red mercedes sports car. When I came to visit she drove me around in it.
Mrs. Eva: I translated avant garde Hungarian poetry. I can't stand the idiots here. Most of them are idiots.

Sonja

If skin could talk we would never hear the end of it.
Lived in, damaged, healed, soft, flexible with a smile, stark with an eyebrow.
Eyes lit up thinking of a little lamb fed by hand until it was fully grown.
Feet up on a balcony under a red roof.
Something about an old school friend who had found you from across the globe.
Painful, confident steps to a stove, and some small flowers in a vase.
French television stewing in the background.
Combs carefully holding a life together.
An ordinary day, except for a familiar voice on my voicemail.
What do you call squirrels again in Dutch?
Where do I drop these things off? I have some socks they could use.
We could order something from the Vietnamese place.
A click. The voice is gone.
There are visitors coming.

Nemo

A snow storm hit New York and surrounding areas yesterday. Today kids were sledding on anything they could find. Two boys used their boogie boards to sled off of snow covered dunes. One of them landed flat on the ground.
"I'm dead" he said, "I feel like I'm dead." The other boy was quiet for a moment. "You're not dead!" The other boy got up and yelled "Thank Heavens!" to no one in particular.

Overheard in the A train

10:30 PM
They're putting everyone in the stands now. Anyone can be in the stands. This shorty next to me today was getting mad voids. I'm telling you, mad voids. And I swear on my mother, vendors can't get cashier shifts. Cashiers can get our shifts, but we can't get a cashier shift. I swear on my mother. Now when you call out, they don't just put a cross on your sheet, it's all too much paperwork. Lydia can't keep track anymore. She can't keep track. Now it's all verbal warnings. All verbal. I shoulda been gone a long time ago.

Things I will work on in February

Not offend people. On this blog or elsewhere. This is specifically meant for one person. Who I offended on this blog. And in real life. Sorry.
Do groceries and buy vegetables.
A retrospective. Of things I once wanted to do, but might never complete.
Being friendly to people while waiting in line. When I'm doing groceries for instance.
Count to ten when I want to hit my sister with my fist on her leg.
Wearing appropriate outfits, for the weather, circumstances, etc.
Use my planner, rather than virtual post-its on my computer I often accidentally delete.
Exercise.
Save receipts.
Wake up early. Sort of.

Conversation topics pairings

Proper etiquette concerning mothers in law. Walks in the mountains. Having a crush at work. Critical parents. Two bottles of Greek wine. (Or was it a Greek grape?)
Pet problems, old and new. A friend had once been forced to give up her bunny, but when they drove to the farm and she had to push it through a tube, without being able to see where it would end up, they ended up driving home. With the bunny. Her parents had recently been forced to take care of her sister's chihuahua. Her dad refused to walk it with a diamond collar. Also, the qualities of Beyonce, and baby plans. 3 bottles of prosecco. 2 Scroppinos. 6 bottles of white wine.
Girls who wear 'statement shirts,' and behave contrary, getting old, and our sixteen year old selves. Tiny regrets and volumizing shampoo. 1 bloody mary. 2 beers.

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.