I climbed into bed at 11pm, following Mo and Pan's schedule, hoping to lead a healthier lifestyle but failed. i'm wide awake and a million thoughts stream through my mind demanding to be released in some form.
New York. I made it back to NY Saturday afternoon, 15 minutes earlier than scheduled - a remarkable feat for Amtrak. I arrived NY hot and cranky from exhaustion and hunger and the smell of the subway system went straight up my nose making me cringe. The people, the wonderful variety of people that I had missed so much all of a sudden seemed to take up way too much space, their sweaty tired faces all spelled exhaustion. No, I did not arrive NY with bliss. I was uncertain. Going from the flatness of the mid-west deserts and the hills of southern farmland, I was apprehensive.
I craved Thai food the minute I touched the platform and headed straight to Arhan Thai, the only Thai restaurant I ever go to, on 36 Ave, LIC. My luggages from a backpack and a shoulder bag exploded into 3 shoulder bags plus backpack after stopping by at T's place. While those bags contain my future joys I was not happy trudging down the streets so heavily ladened. Nevertheless I made it to Arhan and feasted. Food made me feel a whole lot more cheerful.
Being in Mo and Verman's place, which is now Mo and Pan's place felt a bit strange at first. The layout of the rooms are somewhat different and the dynamic certainly changed a great deal. I miss Verman's pink pajamas and white bandannas.
I was tired but somehow ended up going out with Susie. We met up, as usual, at Union Square where people sat on the steps and stare at wholefoods, and walked to this fancy ramenya on 4th Ave. We had to wait 20 minutes and all the time I kept thinking I wasn't sure about fancy ramen cos ramen wasn't supposed to be fancy. Ramen was supposed to be cheap workers/students' food, served in bright casual relaxed settings. It wasn't supposed to be eaten under dim red lights and loud ambiance lounge music. And people certainly don't dress up to go eat ramen. It was all too strange.
The food turned out pretty good. The first couple spoonfulls especially. The broth was thick and reminded me of the tonkotsu ramen in Teramachi. But halfway through it got a bit too much for me. Susie, however, ate with gust, slurping down the last strand of ramen and pretty much all of the broth. We sat in the dim light and stared at our empty bowls and chopsticks for a good 5 minutes before hitting the road once more, down St. Marks into the heart of East Village.
Pretty girls of all colors walked down the streets their earrings reflecting the street lights, their legs and shoulders bare to the wind. And the tattoo stores lined both sides, coaxing your eyes with dragon outlines, claiming to be a new art. It was nearing 11pm but the restaurants were still full and everyone wanted to sit out on the sidewalks to talk about life and lust. The streets was so busy you had to dart back and forth between people to get through sometimes. We turned on 1st Ave and then continued east on 6th st, passing the rows and rows of zagat rated Indian restaurants. The price was reasonable and the food on their menus all look good, there was even one man outside a restaurant who spoke of its goodness to all who'd listen, inviting us to come in but we shook our head, sorry we'd eaten. We headed on to Ave A and then B and then back again to A and finally decided to go into this bar with live music - Sidewalk, and sat there for a while drinking our beers. The band played loud but not too good. Some songs sounded ok but when the lead singer bellowed into the mic they didn't sell condoms in the condom machine a good 5 times we decided it was enough and headed out.
Mo and Pan decided to head to St. Marks after Mira's housewarming thing instead of going straight home, so we met up with them at Kenka's. It was late so there were no lines and they let us sit at the table without much trouble though the waitress seemed mildly annoyed. Kenka plays strange Japanese prewar music and Susie kept looking around saying wow wow wow.
It hit me as we headed for the station that you can walk for nights and nights in this city and never really know all the bars and restaurants. It's so goddam big and choked full with activities. I'd barely been back for a day and already I was rolling. We danced yatta on the streets and the boys turned their heads to look. They probably thought we were drunk but what do I care. It was all of a sudden so much fun. and so sad at the same time and I couldn't really explain why.
And I remember that time with Eiko when we looked at some elegant lady stroll by and asked Yeah, how do I be like that??. But in the end I always monkey around and it doesn't look pretty but it's so much fun and for that moment I don't give a damn. and in NY, really, no one gives a damn what you do, how you look and what madness you carry.
July 20 - Grand Canyon
Yes yes, because I'm forever behind and will probably stay behind for a long time I've given up trying to update chronologically. Here is a picture of me today somewhere inside the Grand Canyon. It was amazing.
July 5th - Cleveland to Chicago
8:57am. Sleeping makes time go by a bit faster. I'm almost in Chicago. The landscape is rather flat and unremarkable but nevertheless, it's always exciting to be in a new place.
Now, a few words for Cleveland before I get caught up in other things.
Tiff lives in a mansion - a huge 4 bedroom, 2 storeys + basement + 2 pianos type of house. And it's in the suburbs between the woods at the end of a long winding 2 lane road. all by herself. yes. all by herself. a lonely princess in the woods waiting to be rescued. And that was where I entered the picture.
I arrived with the early morning rays, following the deep hues of the sun. Her house, though primarily American, has a touch of Japanese and Taiwanese tastes, making me feel all relaxed and comfortable. Perhaps a little too comfortable because before I knew it I was ushered into a yukata and handed a wooden sword to march around the house with. Tiff also put on a yukata but we had a terrible time tying on her obi. it was in general a complete failure.
Tiff's the secretly crazy type of person. she'd sit in class quietly minding her own business and smiling agreeably when the teacher called up on her. and then would turn out essays on knives and family heirlooms, well written for that matter. Back in Japan she'd always told me oh, that's bad! but would still hang out and wait for me to finish lunch each day, despite my incredible slow chewing speed. She still tells me that's bad, shaking her head slightly, and then would laugh because it doesn't matter too much that I'm bad as long as I'm me. I always tell her she lives in a box and now that I've seen her house I sort of know why. it's a pretty box though.
We went to see Mongol and it made me want to gallop full speed to Mongolia and befriend a horse. then we spent the night chasing after fireworks across the city. never catching them and finally giving up and going back home to cook dinner. Tiff cooked, i ate. She spoiled me because I was only there for one day and I was happy. so very happy. to the point I considered staying another day, but that would have lead to something on the line of yeah, i try to be a good host and then finally I can't take it any more for poor Tiff. So i refrained and we ended up lying on the bed skimming through old photos and talking, and drifting off for an hour or two of sleep before the train.
the sounds of 4th of july fireworks came in gentle beats through the windows.
Now, a few words for Cleveland before I get caught up in other things.
Tiff lives in a mansion - a huge 4 bedroom, 2 storeys + basement + 2 pianos type of house. And it's in the suburbs between the woods at the end of a long winding 2 lane road. all by herself. yes. all by herself. a lonely princess in the woods waiting to be rescued. And that was where I entered the picture.
I arrived with the early morning rays, following the deep hues of the sun. Her house, though primarily American, has a touch of Japanese and Taiwanese tastes, making me feel all relaxed and comfortable. Perhaps a little too comfortable because before I knew it I was ushered into a yukata and handed a wooden sword to march around the house with. Tiff also put on a yukata but we had a terrible time tying on her obi. it was in general a complete failure.
Tiff's the secretly crazy type of person. she'd sit in class quietly minding her own business and smiling agreeably when the teacher called up on her. and then would turn out essays on knives and family heirlooms, well written for that matter. Back in Japan she'd always told me oh, that's bad! but would still hang out and wait for me to finish lunch each day, despite my incredible slow chewing speed. She still tells me that's bad, shaking her head slightly, and then would laugh because it doesn't matter too much that I'm bad as long as I'm me. I always tell her she lives in a box and now that I've seen her house I sort of know why. it's a pretty box though.
We went to see Mongol and it made me want to gallop full speed to Mongolia and befriend a horse. then we spent the night chasing after fireworks across the city. never catching them and finally giving up and going back home to cook dinner. Tiff cooked, i ate. She spoiled me because I was only there for one day and I was happy. so very happy. to the point I considered staying another day, but that would have lead to something on the line of yeah, i try to be a good host and then finally I can't take it any more for poor Tiff. So i refrained and we ended up lying on the bed skimming through old photos and talking, and drifting off for an hour or two of sleep before the train.
the sounds of 4th of july fireworks came in gentle beats through the windows.
July 4 - Cleveland
We're passing by some industrial factory puffing columns of smoke into the sky. Columns and columns of smoke. stuff coming out of one column actually looks like it's on fire - blue fire of some sort. Then dark houses deep in sleep. They're built so close together it's hard to tell if they're residential or warehouses.
The darkness stretch time - not being able to see beyond the window planes it feels mildly as though we're moving in a black box. The windows reflect so when lighted objects are visible it's hard to tell if you're looking at them through the glasses, or whether you're simply staring at their reflections coming from the other side.
I brought a copy of Jack Kerouac's On The Road with me. Funny how for the first part of the book all he talks about is heading West to Chicago and Denver. Makes me think Yeah, I'm heading there too. All coincidential, but of course he's doing it the hard way - hitchhiking.
It's hard to form any sort of impression of a city simply by what's seen from the tracks. They go through back alleys where houses are low and dank, even when the train station is in the middle of the city.
Finally arrived Cleveland. 5:18am. 13 hours of train ride, which isn't that bad but for the temperature. the compartments were freezing. It was so cold my muscles ache. and I had most of my warm clothings on! I don't understand why Amtrak has to punish its users that way. Take that customers! That's for using our service! !?!
Poor Tiffany has to wake up in the middle of the night to come pick me up from the station. It's already light out. And departure's roughly around the same time tomorrow. Argh!
The darkness stretch time - not being able to see beyond the window planes it feels mildly as though we're moving in a black box. The windows reflect so when lighted objects are visible it's hard to tell if you're looking at them through the glasses, or whether you're simply staring at their reflections coming from the other side.
I brought a copy of Jack Kerouac's On The Road with me. Funny how for the first part of the book all he talks about is heading West to Chicago and Denver. Makes me think Yeah, I'm heading there too. All coincidential, but of course he's doing it the hard way - hitchhiking.
It's hard to form any sort of impression of a city simply by what's seen from the tracks. They go through back alleys where houses are low and dank, even when the train station is in the middle of the city.
Finally arrived Cleveland. 5:18am. 13 hours of train ride, which isn't that bad but for the temperature. the compartments were freezing. It was so cold my muscles ache. and I had most of my warm clothings on! I don't understand why Amtrak has to punish its users that way. Take that customers! That's for using our service! !?!
Poor Tiffany has to wake up in the middle of the night to come pick me up from the station. It's already light out. And departure's roughly around the same time tomorrow. Argh!
Thursday, July 3, 2008 - D.C. to Cleveland
2am. Somehow ended up discussing art with D.H. I realized I dislike talking to people about art. it's like talking about a love affair where you care too much about the other side but you don't know whether your friends and family will like him and where it's all heading to.
it's like over-exposing myself, leaving me hollow afterward. like letting out too much not knowing how they're received - or rather without receiving enough to fill up the chunk of me I'd just given out. it's a strange feeling.
5pm. the lounge is beautiful with glass overhead so you can see the sky. The train has two storeys. it's interesting seeing the world from up so high.
Passing through farm land - corn fields, vegetables and various plants I can't identify, herds of cows, barns, tractors. bare fields harvested last week, ripe gold under the sun. rows of trees turning green blurs. a house with white fences and a man in shorts walks across the lawn. unaware of being watched. and recorded.
railroads that curve off to unknown distance.
Under a green canopy we proceed.
Hay barrels roll the earth yellow, leaving trails of dried grasses on bare golden fields.
and we enter the green canopy again, letting the leaves brush the windows, watching butterflies flirt, swirling round and round each other.
We come out on grasses dyed orange dotted with purple blooms. A broken brick house in the distance, its roof curving in, a sad sight in the city but strangely poetic in this overgrown field.
People walking back and forth pushing onto my chair. I look at my pens and paper scattered on the couch.
Martinsburg Station, West Virginia is composed of several abandoned brick buildings. They harmonize a sad song, repeating Why? there was once a time splendid, filled with people and sound. they kept the roof above the walls and the walls straight above the ground. now there's only air. and the meadow creeping in.
my hair's limp on my shoulders and the bags beneath my eyes deepen. Exhaustion. I am mildly lonely but plenty relieved. Being with people of a different kind is interesting but exhausting. I'm grateful plenty that people invited me into their privates space however.
A few words for D.C.
D.C. has big roads, big buildings, plenty of parks and museums. I didn't like downtown D.C. when I visited 2 summers ago and I didn't like it when we got off the subway at the Smithsonian station. Everything was so clean and grand, and organized. Everything screams "authority" not comfort. But the museums are all free! This is the place for those seeking knowledge! though perhaps not so much for those seeking to create.
I want to hug a hay barrel and roll.
it's like over-exposing myself, leaving me hollow afterward. like letting out too much not knowing how they're received - or rather without receiving enough to fill up the chunk of me I'd just given out. it's a strange feeling.
5pm. the lounge is beautiful with glass overhead so you can see the sky. The train has two storeys. it's interesting seeing the world from up so high.
Passing through farm land - corn fields, vegetables and various plants I can't identify, herds of cows, barns, tractors. bare fields harvested last week, ripe gold under the sun. rows of trees turning green blurs. a house with white fences and a man in shorts walks across the lawn. unaware of being watched. and recorded.
railroads that curve off to unknown distance.
Under a green canopy we proceed.
Hay barrels roll the earth yellow, leaving trails of dried grasses on bare golden fields.
and we enter the green canopy again, letting the leaves brush the windows, watching butterflies flirt, swirling round and round each other.
We come out on grasses dyed orange dotted with purple blooms. A broken brick house in the distance, its roof curving in, a sad sight in the city but strangely poetic in this overgrown field.
People walking back and forth pushing onto my chair. I look at my pens and paper scattered on the couch.
Martinsburg Station, West Virginia is composed of several abandoned brick buildings. They harmonize a sad song, repeating Why? there was once a time splendid, filled with people and sound. they kept the roof above the walls and the walls straight above the ground. now there's only air. and the meadow creeping in.
my hair's limp on my shoulders and the bags beneath my eyes deepen. Exhaustion. I am mildly lonely but plenty relieved. Being with people of a different kind is interesting but exhausting. I'm grateful plenty that people invited me into their privates space however.
A few words for D.C.
D.C. has big roads, big buildings, plenty of parks and museums. I didn't like downtown D.C. when I visited 2 summers ago and I didn't like it when we got off the subway at the Smithsonian station. Everything was so clean and grand, and organized. Everything screams "authority" not comfort. But the museums are all free! This is the place for those seeking knowledge! though perhaps not so much for those seeking to create.
I want to hug a hay barrel and roll.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008 - to D.C.
There are only 2 bags but they weighed heavy on my shoulders and arms. Getting to the I.C.A. took longer than I thought.
The gallery lies on the 4th floor with huge glass windows overlooking the pier. They have a special Anish Kapoor exhibition and other slick pieces on display - true to the term contemporary.
Made it to the station 10 minutes before departure. Hurriedly bought a croissant and an OJ. wishing i'd bought 2 croissants and another bottle of water.
There's a lot of marshland along the coast. the train run alongside the beach every now and then and it's beautiful. People on the sand, some backs against the sky, some bellies towards the sun and a hundred or so colorful umbrellas scattered about. they all scream fun and splash into the water.
We're going through New Haven. New Haven, like Boston, is one of those places of familiarity - a place I have some idea of what's what and what's where, but never any solid sense of direction.
Sometimes i feel my life is a bar of soap. The used parts turn into bubbles and wash down the drain.
We passed through NY. It felt strange to stay on board rather than grabbing my stuff and go home. But the adventure has barely started.
In Baltimore all the residential houses on the outskirt are squeezed together thus they are tall and skinny. They're usually 3 to 4 storeys and look roughly a bit bigger than the width of this car - 3.5ms or so. This part of the city looks shabby. There are not many tall buildings, everything stays at pretty much the 4-storey size. their matchbox structure reminds me of Vietnam.
The gallery lies on the 4th floor with huge glass windows overlooking the pier. They have a special Anish Kapoor exhibition and other slick pieces on display - true to the term contemporary.
Made it to the station 10 minutes before departure. Hurriedly bought a croissant and an OJ. wishing i'd bought 2 croissants and another bottle of water.
There's a lot of marshland along the coast. the train run alongside the beach every now and then and it's beautiful. People on the sand, some backs against the sky, some bellies towards the sun and a hundred or so colorful umbrellas scattered about. they all scream fun and splash into the water.
We're going through New Haven. New Haven, like Boston, is one of those places of familiarity - a place I have some idea of what's what and what's where, but never any solid sense of direction.
Sometimes i feel my life is a bar of soap. The used parts turn into bubbles and wash down the drain.
We passed through NY. It felt strange to stay on board rather than grabbing my stuff and go home. But the adventure has barely started.
In Baltimore all the residential houses on the outskirt are squeezed together thus they are tall and skinny. They're usually 3 to 4 storeys and look roughly a bit bigger than the width of this car - 3.5ms or so. This part of the city looks shabby. There are not many tall buildings, everything stays at pretty much the 4-storey size. their matchbox structure reminds me of Vietnam.
Monday, June 30, 2008 - Boston
I've lost track of time, forgetting that today is Monday and that Mondays are not good days to visit museums because that's usually when they close. But here I am, sitting on the steps of the I.C.A staring out into the waters. Seaweed quiver, clinging on to the bay, bobbing up and down. A seagull glides low to the water. I watch in fascination.
The pier is quiet but for the sound of cranes and machine operating a block away. Construction sounds. After seeing the short film City of Cranes I've never quite looked at them the same way again. What usually dismissed or consciously ignored and avoided (such as construction sounds) now pop out against the blue sky. There is something fragile and elegant about the way they stretch their neck up high and balance steel rods from their hooks - ballet of cranes.
There are several other people here, sitting in the shade, staring at the water. perhaps watching the orange balls that mark the pier's territory rise and fall with the waves - as the chest of a sleeping person. they burn orange and the heat of the day settle on my skin, heavy and moist.
With the tall buildings in sight I head across the bridge and along the ferry dock. Matt works not far from South station so I met up with him by the fountain in a park above a parking lot. It was a nice park. It would be nice if all parking lots are built this way. Matt couldn't stay long so he gave me a few smiles and some good-bye hugs. Poor Matt, I agitate him with my random comings and goings. What? You're here?!? Why didn't you tell me??!!
I continued my wanderings after the brief good bye, walking aimlessly into a used bookstore and walking out with 3 books. I should stop squandering money on books I might not be able to carry home.
Now here I am in Quincy market, brushing bugs off my notebook, wondering all the while if there are bugs in my hair. And the two men at the bag stand in front of me zipped and unzipped zipper bags. People stopped to look but not one pulled his/her wallet out. I feel bad but I definitely don't need a zipper bag. Once in a while they say out loud in a sing-song tone It's only one zipper bag~~
I mildly want food but having spent money on water and books I'm refraining myself. Being poor for life would be somewhat problematic. Ah well.
Renee cooked me dinner - one last meal before a while. perhaps a long while. Jack came over too but he had a big lunch so I ended up eating pretty much 2/3 of the food, emptying all the plates and bowls. Good homemade food. How can I resist?
Even with that much food all we ended up talking about before drifting off to sleep that night was food and more food - all the lovely tropical fruits at home that aren't available here. hmm...
The pier is quiet but for the sound of cranes and machine operating a block away. Construction sounds. After seeing the short film City of Cranes I've never quite looked at them the same way again. What usually dismissed or consciously ignored and avoided (such as construction sounds) now pop out against the blue sky. There is something fragile and elegant about the way they stretch their neck up high and balance steel rods from their hooks - ballet of cranes.
There are several other people here, sitting in the shade, staring at the water. perhaps watching the orange balls that mark the pier's territory rise and fall with the waves - as the chest of a sleeping person. they burn orange and the heat of the day settle on my skin, heavy and moist.
With the tall buildings in sight I head across the bridge and along the ferry dock. Matt works not far from South station so I met up with him by the fountain in a park above a parking lot. It was a nice park. It would be nice if all parking lots are built this way. Matt couldn't stay long so he gave me a few smiles and some good-bye hugs. Poor Matt, I agitate him with my random comings and goings. What? You're here?!? Why didn't you tell me??!!
I continued my wanderings after the brief good bye, walking aimlessly into a used bookstore and walking out with 3 books. I should stop squandering money on books I might not be able to carry home.
Now here I am in Quincy market, brushing bugs off my notebook, wondering all the while if there are bugs in my hair. And the two men at the bag stand in front of me zipped and unzipped zipper bags. People stopped to look but not one pulled his/her wallet out. I feel bad but I definitely don't need a zipper bag. Once in a while they say out loud in a sing-song tone It's only one zipper bag~~
I mildly want food but having spent money on water and books I'm refraining myself. Being poor for life would be somewhat problematic. Ah well.
Renee cooked me dinner - one last meal before a while. perhaps a long while. Jack came over too but he had a big lunch so I ended up eating pretty much 2/3 of the food, emptying all the plates and bowls. Good homemade food. How can I resist?
Even with that much food all we ended up talking about before drifting off to sleep that night was food and more food - all the lovely tropical fruits at home that aren't available here. hmm...
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Youkyung's on a plane back to Korea. Marcela is already back in Mexico.
We drove to a farm after breakfast. This part of Massachusetts is similar to parts of CT and even residential neighborhoods in Charlottesville. Cute houses, mostly one story, some 2, and a few 3, lined up along the street between frontyards and backyards, their lawns cleanly mowed. It is a peaceful scene, full of trees and plenty of space for each family. But just the idea of living in one of those houses is unimaginable for me. I can never enter such domesticity. I will be sedated. Well, never say never, but yes, at the moment such lifestyle and future is rather dreary. On the other hand, becoming a cat lady sitting in a falling-apart house with 10 cats is not exactly appealing either...Ahh crap talk. Why should I even think about this. Que sera sera.
Back to the farm story. It was not very big and Cass refused to walk into the fields with me so we only stayed at the front where there're animals and shops. The baby goats were adorable but unfortunately I forgot my camera.
We drove to a park (Look park) in the afternoon and waddled into the water. Cass' slippers slipped off and floated downstream. She chased after them, caught one and tumbled into the water bruising herself. It would have been as she exclaimed, standing on a rock waving one pink slipper, Oh, a bad day!, if some guy from downstream hadn't rescue her other one .
We got home with flip flops intact and made delicious vegetable curry.
Mrs Guild: Why don't you go to a bar?
Cass: Why are you always telling me to go party? You go party yourself!
Mrs Guild: There're no more bars for older people any more. It's all for teenagers, or 20s...you know.
Cass: That's not true. Go to Divas.
Mrs Guild: Oh pu-leeese. I'm not going to old pick-me-up men's bar.
Ahhh...family. I'm moving back in roughly a month. It worries me somewhat.
We drove to a farm after breakfast. This part of Massachusetts is similar to parts of CT and even residential neighborhoods in Charlottesville. Cute houses, mostly one story, some 2, and a few 3, lined up along the street between frontyards and backyards, their lawns cleanly mowed. It is a peaceful scene, full of trees and plenty of space for each family. But just the idea of living in one of those houses is unimaginable for me. I can never enter such domesticity. I will be sedated. Well, never say never, but yes, at the moment such lifestyle and future is rather dreary. On the other hand, becoming a cat lady sitting in a falling-apart house with 10 cats is not exactly appealing either...Ahh crap talk. Why should I even think about this. Que sera sera.
Back to the farm story. It was not very big and Cass refused to walk into the fields with me so we only stayed at the front where there're animals and shops. The baby goats were adorable but unfortunately I forgot my camera.
We drove to a park (Look park) in the afternoon and waddled into the water. Cass' slippers slipped off and floated downstream. She chased after them, caught one and tumbled into the water bruising herself. It would have been as she exclaimed, standing on a rock waving one pink slipper, Oh, a bad day!, if some guy from downstream hadn't rescue her other one .
We got home with flip flops intact and made delicious vegetable curry.
Mrs Guild: Why don't you go to a bar?
Cass: Why are you always telling me to go party? You go party yourself!
Mrs Guild: There're no more bars for older people any more. It's all for teenagers, or 20s...you know.
Cass: That's not true. Go to Divas.
Mrs Guild: Oh pu-leeese. I'm not going to old pick-me-up men's bar.
Ahhh...family. I'm moving back in roughly a month. It worries me somewhat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)