The World Press Photo winners have been selected, here's the link. I really loved this one, of a Russian cadet.
February 19, 2011
World Press Photo
The World Press Photo winners have been selected, here's the link. I really loved this one, of a Russian cadet.
February 13, 2011
6 Months til Bloomsday, but I just had to hear it
I think I've posted Aedin's reading before, but it's just so phenomenal.
January 26, 2011
January 4, 2011
the night BEFORE the night that we slept on a park bench and a guy peed in the bushes next to me and offered me beer from a plastic bag
Everyone else's memory is of THE night. THE night when we missed our train and slept on a bench in a park. But my best memory is of the night before THE night.
Did I ever tell you that I watched Slumdog Millionaire with 2 Norwegian guys in a 40 seat theater at the back of a hostel in Barcelona at 1 in the morning? I think I have, but who cares. Nobody's forcing you to read this.
It was the most insignificant thing; I was tired and Pau and Angie wanted to use the computers at Kiah and Susan's hostel before we headed back. We had to take the subway to get to our place on the outskirts of the city and nobody would have contact with family for a few days. Literally the only reason we'd stopped there was because Paulina and Angelina were homesick; I was perfectly happy wandering around Spain aimlessly. In my mind, what was a few extra days, or even weeks? It's strange how you almost forget that home exists.
Well, I'd gone into the "computer room", checked my email, and chatted with my sister for about 10 minutes. Funny how quickly we ran out of things to say - this was literally every conversation that we had while I was gone:
"hey"
"hey"
"what's up?"
"not much. It's hot."
"it's hot here too, even at night. how's work?"
"it's good. Julie [her boss] and I went out to lunch today and then to the container store."
"that sounds fun. did you buy anything?"
"no, I'm fucking poor."
"oh, that sucks."
"yeah. so where are you?"
"[Insert the place that I am]. It's beautiful. [Insert name of random roommate] is being crazy, though."
"that sucks. what did she do?"
"[Insert crazy thing that she did]."
"you want me to tell her to stop being so fucking crazy?"
"no, I'll figure something out. I'm gonna go, I'm pretty tired."
"k."
"say hi to mom and dad for me."
"k."
"love you."
"love you, too."
- or maybe it's just that we didn't need to say a lot. We could talk about experiences later; you don't want to reminisce too early - it ruins the fun of actually doing something.
So I told them I was done (some crazy brit wanted to use the comp anyways) and that I'd be next door; it sounded like Transformers was playing or something, maybe I could take a nap in there - at least it was dark.
But when I walked in, it was something completely different. I was instantly engrossed. The darkness didn't have the effect I'd imagined - instead of dulling my senses I was wide awake. Sounds were louder, smells stronger, colors brighter. I sat, and I watched, and I thought about the time I'd spent away and the things that I'd dome. I thought about my friends and my plans and my finances. And then I finally thought about me, about how I felt at that moment, at that exact moment.
I had a feeling of complete transcendence; here I was, a Mexican-American, sitting in a hostel in Spain with Norwegians watching a film that took place in India where they spoke Hindi and English.
Have you ever wanted to take a moment and put it in a bottle and seal it air-tight, so that when you got it out again it was just as fresh as when you put it in? It's more that a photo or a mental image; it's feeling the same way, exactly, as you did when you were in the moment. I finally did it, and hearing this music is all that I need to bring it up again.
Someone remind me to look up this night in my diary; maybe I'll post my entry.
Did I ever tell you that I watched Slumdog Millionaire with 2 Norwegian guys in a 40 seat theater at the back of a hostel in Barcelona at 1 in the morning? I think I have, but who cares. Nobody's forcing you to read this.
It was the most insignificant thing; I was tired and Pau and Angie wanted to use the computers at Kiah and Susan's hostel before we headed back. We had to take the subway to get to our place on the outskirts of the city and nobody would have contact with family for a few days. Literally the only reason we'd stopped there was because Paulina and Angelina were homesick; I was perfectly happy wandering around Spain aimlessly. In my mind, what was a few extra days, or even weeks? It's strange how you almost forget that home exists.
Well, I'd gone into the "computer room", checked my email, and chatted with my sister for about 10 minutes. Funny how quickly we ran out of things to say - this was literally every conversation that we had while I was gone:
"hey"
"hey"
"what's up?"
"not much. It's hot."
"it's hot here too, even at night. how's work?"
"it's good. Julie [her boss] and I went out to lunch today and then to the container store."
"that sounds fun. did you buy anything?"
"no, I'm fucking poor."
"oh, that sucks."
"yeah. so where are you?"
"[Insert the place that I am]. It's beautiful. [Insert name of random roommate] is being crazy, though."
"that sucks. what did she do?"
"[Insert crazy thing that she did]."
"you want me to tell her to stop being so fucking crazy?"
"no, I'll figure something out. I'm gonna go, I'm pretty tired."
"k."
"say hi to mom and dad for me."
"k."
"love you."
"love you, too."
- or maybe it's just that we didn't need to say a lot. We could talk about experiences later; you don't want to reminisce too early - it ruins the fun of actually doing something.
So I told them I was done (some crazy brit wanted to use the comp anyways) and that I'd be next door; it sounded like Transformers was playing or something, maybe I could take a nap in there - at least it was dark.
But when I walked in, it was something completely different. I was instantly engrossed. The darkness didn't have the effect I'd imagined - instead of dulling my senses I was wide awake. Sounds were louder, smells stronger, colors brighter. I sat, and I watched, and I thought about the time I'd spent away and the things that I'd dome. I thought about my friends and my plans and my finances. And then I finally thought about me, about how I felt at that moment, at that exact moment.
I had a feeling of complete transcendence; here I was, a Mexican-American, sitting in a hostel in Spain with Norwegians watching a film that took place in India where they spoke Hindi and English.
Have you ever wanted to take a moment and put it in a bottle and seal it air-tight, so that when you got it out again it was just as fresh as when you put it in? It's more that a photo or a mental image; it's feeling the same way, exactly, as you did when you were in the moment. I finally did it, and hearing this music is all that I need to bring it up again.
Someone remind me to look up this night in my diary; maybe I'll post my entry.
December 31, 2010
December 29, 2010
Organs, Lungs, and other Instruments
I think I'm about to enter the gothic era of my life. Why am I suddenly obsessed with song lyrics? And harps and blues organs and tuney pianos?
December 17, 2010
Even I'm judging me, so I wouldn't expect anything less of YOU
You know those sad 35-year-old chicks who show up to ComiCon dressed as a fat Slave Leia (chains, and nudity, and weird little British accent, and everything)? This is how it starts.
Say you get bored and decide to watch Serenity, because it's on HBO and it's free and what the hell nobody's gonna tell YOU what to watch so it might as well be science fiction. And then you fucking love it. So you say you know, I think I heard somewhere that this was based on a tv show... maybe I should look THAT thing up. Oh, it's on Netflix watch instantly, FANTASTIC. You probably chew through that entire series in what? A week? 10 days? But, wait. It's only 1 season... there's nothing left. WHAT DO YOU DO NOW?
So you probably start to hint to close friends that you've developed a tiny appetite (lies, it's huge) for science fiction, but only the good stuff. Like anyone will believe that you're not a total freak just because you have standards. And let's say, at a party, someone mentions that you should probably watch Battlestar Galactica just cuz. And 5 days later you find yourself googling shit like this and finishing all of season 1... all FIFTEEN HOURS of season 1.
Ya, that's probably how it starts.
December 11, 2010
December 6, 2010
Yessir, Capt'n Tightpants
December 5, 2010
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