When I was younger my family used to clean the church we attended. It was an eccentric looking church, it looked like a elongated Hershey Kiss. As my parents used to wash the bathrooms, mop the kitchen, vacuum the alter, my sister and I would play games amongst the pews. It was an Orthodox Church so it still had the alter which separated the priest from the congregation, like pre-Vat II Catholic Churches. When it was full there was a sense of awe. But because I was so familiar with it it lacked that sense of awe. That pew over there, yeah, that's where my sister hid last Thursday. But the alter still preserved its mystery, it was strange to see my mother go behind it, women aren't allowed behind it. I would not go behind it, well only on the rare occasions I was an alter boy. The church was small, it fit about 70 people more on Easter. The choir was my favorite part it had that sense of mystery the alter contained, but it was more accessible. All the music stands made it a place of mystery, I can remember going up there a couple of times and singing. I remember the church better than any of the houses we lived in during that period, there weren't many three. Funny really, I think I miss that church. I went back when I was home but it was locked. I didn't bother coming back for mass, I wasn't there for that, just for the church. I once slept in the church with a teen christian group, and I can remember the adult leader, Andy if I remember correctly, telling us that we should become aquatinted with the church that we should see it as the house of god and we should be comfortable there. I was already very comfortable with it. Of all the things I did in that church, I can never remember yelling. I am sure I did yell so as to be heard over the sound of the vacuum cleaner. The vacuum cleaner was this old thing that was just one big pipe and you plugged it into holes in the floor. Despite my familiarity with the church it still demanded an air of respect. Now when I walk into churches I have the same respect, you never yell in a church. There is simply something about it that lends itself to contemplation no matter how commercial the church. At school they would take us to this church twice a year to sit and go to confession if we so desired. It was a Catholic church, ugly plain looking thing, damn you Zwingle. It wasn't able to inspire the same respect. I understand that a church is not a building, and that we, or rather Protestant Christians should not be tied to material things, but once you strip religion down to its pietistical core, you strip religion of what makes it beautiful, and all you have left is the bullshit mysticism. There is a lot of beauty in the tradition of the Orthodox and Catholic faith, its a shame that it is so nutty.
As I was exiting the library tonight I realized that even though only the librarian and I were left I whispered goodnight. Libraries inspire the same awe especially the older libraries. The modern looking libraries lack the same umph especially when they look like they were build by FLW. It would be nice if libraries eventually replaced churches as places of worship, where people would have to go one day a week and read something or their souls would burn in hell. It probably wouldn't work it would end up being one giant reading group examining the depth's of the latest Brownesque book. People have a way of ruining things, making them familiar, removing the mystery.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Clubbing
So I had three cigarets today, with the one I had that one time and the pack I had for New Year's that makes 24 since I quit, actually in all fairness 23 because I didn't finish that pack. As Tom Waits says in Cigarets and Coffee, the great thing about quitting smoking is that you can have one every now and than and not be a smoker. There is something about rainy nights in Oxford that simply demands one or three cigs. And stumbling back from a club early looks very ungracefully without a well positioned cig, and as the last thing in the world I would want to appear ungraceful.
Tonight was the first time I went to a club. I thought hey why not live a little want' the worst that could happen. I generally tend to avoid clubs, they contain two things I tend to avoid people and bad music played loudly. All the pubs in Oxford close by 12 and there is nothing to do for the overworked students but to express that stress through dance and drink. Escape, the aptly named club, is in the covered market. The covered market usually houses produce and at night provides a home for the "big issue" vendors. The club had two floors one dance floor and of course the necessary pole. The very white female dj choose only the best of songs, not that you could hear anything more than the melody, the rest of the song was comprised of rhythmic beats. After spending too much on drinks these soon to be overworked kids started getting in touch with their more primal nature and started moving rather awkwardly. It seems fitting that they express themselves so awkwardly because the a whole situation is rather awkward and lacks focus. The tango can be considered a dance because its message is very clear. Kids doing their own thing, not so much. It was hilarious but who am I to judge? All in all going to a club isn't quite as bad as I thought it would be.
Tonight was the first time I went to a club. I thought hey why not live a little want' the worst that could happen. I generally tend to avoid clubs, they contain two things I tend to avoid people and bad music played loudly. All the pubs in Oxford close by 12 and there is nothing to do for the overworked students but to express that stress through dance and drink. Escape, the aptly named club, is in the covered market. The covered market usually houses produce and at night provides a home for the "big issue" vendors. The club had two floors one dance floor and of course the necessary pole. The very white female dj choose only the best of songs, not that you could hear anything more than the melody, the rest of the song was comprised of rhythmic beats. After spending too much on drinks these soon to be overworked kids started getting in touch with their more primal nature and started moving rather awkwardly. It seems fitting that they express themselves so awkwardly because the a whole situation is rather awkward and lacks focus. The tango can be considered a dance because its message is very clear. Kids doing their own thing, not so much. It was hilarious but who am I to judge? All in all going to a club isn't quite as bad as I thought it would be.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Back Home
Is it strange that England and Oxford now feel like home?
There are so many more Americans here this term, they are easy to spot because they are in large groups waiting inconspicuously at bus stops. The frat colors also gives them away.
Something I found on the internet last night that I thought was interesting, well me and a million other people.
There are so many more Americans here this term, they are easy to spot because they are in large groups waiting inconspicuously at bus stops. The frat colors also gives them away.
Something I found on the internet last night that I thought was interesting, well me and a million other people.
Friday, January 4, 2008
My Grandfather
My grandfather died 13 years ago yesterday. The more time passes the more I regret not getting to know him. He was the first in my more immediate family to die, so I guess the blow came a little harder but its been a while, but than again I never really knew him.
I visited his grave when I was in Romania. He was buried on a hillside. I wasn't sure exactly where he was buried, but I bought some orange flowers and walked to the grave. I realized that that was my first time ever having visited a grave. What flowers are appropriate? Orange? somehow they seemed strangely appropriate. I walked in the snow amongst the graves for an hour. Somebody there helped me look but he didn't find it either. As I was almost ready to give up on the last climb down I stumbled across it. I cleaned it off a bit though took the ld flowers to through out. I didn't have any candles or anything else. There where some bottles of water, I don't know why they were there. I don't really understand why people have graves It most certainly isn't for the living. Perhaps when they are alive they feel comforted by thought thought that their memory will be reduced to a gaudy monument in a century. My grandfather didn't want to be buried, to be eaten by worms. The things that sustain your memory are the little thing that reverberate through the rest of time. If you leave this world a better or a worse place in the end it only matters to you when you go to sleep and die.
I was taken to a friend's house the night my grandfather died. It was one of the few nights of my childhood that I remember. Strangely enough the only thing about that night I do not remember his him.
As people go my grandfather was a great one. If there was any person in my family worth looking up to he is undoubtedly the one. I am not sure how much I know him is fact and how much is fiction, but the one thing I remember him a little. He was a calm, classy, and always seemed confident in himself, even through the months of chemo.
I visited his grave when I was in Romania. He was buried on a hillside. I wasn't sure exactly where he was buried, but I bought some orange flowers and walked to the grave. I realized that that was my first time ever having visited a grave. What flowers are appropriate? Orange? somehow they seemed strangely appropriate. I walked in the snow amongst the graves for an hour. Somebody there helped me look but he didn't find it either. As I was almost ready to give up on the last climb down I stumbled across it. I cleaned it off a bit though took the ld flowers to through out. I didn't have any candles or anything else. There where some bottles of water, I don't know why they were there. I don't really understand why people have graves It most certainly isn't for the living. Perhaps when they are alive they feel comforted by thought thought that their memory will be reduced to a gaudy monument in a century. My grandfather didn't want to be buried, to be eaten by worms. The things that sustain your memory are the little thing that reverberate through the rest of time. If you leave this world a better or a worse place in the end it only matters to you when you go to sleep and die.
I was taken to a friend's house the night my grandfather died. It was one of the few nights of my childhood that I remember. Strangely enough the only thing about that night I do not remember his him.
As people go my grandfather was a great one. If there was any person in my family worth looking up to he is undoubtedly the one. I am not sure how much I know him is fact and how much is fiction, but the one thing I remember him a little. He was a calm, classy, and always seemed confident in himself, even through the months of chemo.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
La Multi Ani
And all that stuff.
One of my friends from Oxford, a Russian Jew living in Boston, came to Vienna on the 30th. we than took a train on to Budapest on the 31st. Got there around noon and walked around a bit trying to find an exchange place. Budapest is a pretty town and the snow made it prettier but I quickly realized that walking with a hole in my shoe is not the best of ideas.
Budapest was at one time two different cities Buda and Pest, they are separated by the Danube. The train station was in Pest and we walked to Buda, there was monument to the WWII dead on a hill and we climbed to that. I didn't much care for it. But my friend liked it at least in comparison with what he saw in Berlin. In Berlin there are almost no reference to the Holocaust besides the Jewish Museum. All the references to WWII are made to the resistance. He did not like that very much, can't see why. It seems that the winners aren't the only ones that write history.
We walked along the castle that is there in Buda a bit modern, wonderfully ornate but idk seems like such a waste. It was similar the the palace in Bratislava but much much bigger, the Hapsburgs knew what they liked. Went into cafe to warm up and ran into some American tourists, and some Romanian tourists. I have taken a great dislike to tourists and all touristy stuff. I have never liked tourists an have never aspired to be one. I hate the idea f going to a place to see the things there are to see and think you have come to know the place, but at the same time it seems like something you should do. I am considering buying a eurorail pass and going from place to place, but why do that besides to say that I have been there. I don't like that. See a place just to see it. It might be more interesting to get to know the people, but that is too hard if you do not already know someone there. As someone said after a certain point different cities become merely different architecture, at least for tourists.
My friend was telling me about the good experiences he had with couchsurfing. He went to the arctic circle and there in a small town he found a girl that let him stay. She worked in an ice hotel and while he was there the Noble Delegates came to visit (including the inimitable Al Gore). He is going to spain and he is planing to the same. I doubt I could do the same. Don't trust people enough.
After the castle we headed to Pest. We came across this square which was lit up with different colors in a mosaic patten. The ground and two of the buildings were full of light and there were fires burning. By this point there was probably more water in my shoes than shoe. I really like this sort of "graffiti" NYU has started teaching a class on how to make that kind of art. It is an interesting way to be able to crete nonintrusive urban art. There is something utterly enjoyable about breating new life into old places.
After that I had to call my mom which is always an experience I can do without.
We alternated between two stages for most of the test of the night. There were fireworks and cheap champagne on every street. We ate kebabs before we started "partying." the second of the two places was organized by radio danube. The first time we were there they had this pop singer that made up for her voice by being attractive. So we stayed there for a bit. We walked down to what must have been the principle ceremonial boulevard. We walked down it talking about life and love until we came to this open plaza between two museums. There were several people at each end of this square lighting fireworks, not the ones that sparkle but the ones that shoot up in the air and are seen from quite a distance. Occasionally one would misfire and shoot out towards the museums. There was a large plastic tent that had become a makeshift club next to the square, we avoided it because it seemed to lack any character and well, you couldn't see outside.
We headed back towards the original stage, but losing our way. We got there with 5 minutes to spare, having bought a small champagne beforehand we thought we had done our duty to father time, only to realize that it was a screw top. We quickly found three euros and brought a proper bottle. As the clock struck twelve were in in this middle of this hugh crowd soaking everyone with champaign and listing to this guy with a viking hat onstage counting down and signing some incomprehensible song. After the crowd had dissipated a little bit we headed towards the other stage.
We were able to catch the last act and only a few songs as that. We danced drunkly bumping into people as if in a desire to create some form of solidarity. A couple joined us in our merriment. The man had a tendency to kick his wife's ass and seemed like an angry drown, so we avoided that situation. We ran into some pseudo-Russian with a bottle of vodka that was more than happy to further our demise but was a little to clingy and a little to confused to justify our extended attention. We danced away like leprechauns through a train station desperately in need of a place to relive ourselves.
At some point during the night we had decided to go to a strip-joint to warm ourselves after the night spiraled downward. We jumped on a trolly which was heading in what I thought was the "red light district." Much to our chagrin it was not. We took the trolly in the other direction. I was so tired/drunk that I dozed off and lost sight of my friend. I got off to find him only to realize my cell phone had no more credit. After some mindless walking and a successful trip to a urine stanched Subway I realized I could use a pay-phone. I made use of this dying commodity successfully and we were shortly thereafter reunited.
To our luck we were able to stumble a cross what we at the time thought was a strip club. We were seated next two two poles on a circular couch, and given menus. Some elderly girl got up to dance in a red dress and black high heels. She worked her way around the pole lifting up her dress just enough to titillate us but it hardly conformed to our preconceived notions of a strip club. We ordered Jacks, they came warm which worked well on our cold tired bodies. Two girls came to sit next to us, I had the more attractive one. She was wearing nothing but lingerie and disgustingly high heels. She asked me if I liked Hungary and what I did, what hotel I was staying in... twice. She had make up on her eyes but the rest of her face was rather bland. She kept moving her feet and playing with her hands. At one point she said that if I bought her a drink she would dance in my lap and for a fee we could go in the room and "you can touch the girl." I told her maybe later. I asked if she would be dancing. After a while I told her that I'm probably not wiling to spend any more cash, so she left seemingly relived. She started to dance after the next song.
After a while another couple of girls came to it and chat but we were both so sick of the place and so tired that we payed them little mind. In many ways I think the experience changed me. i never before that night realized what it truly meant to objectify a person. There I was, in my drunken state, slouching on this couch looking at some almost middle age woman move around a pole in could hardly be called seductive. But I was sitting there mentally undressing, well some of them anyway, looking at the bits of flesh their movements exposed, wondering hopping they would proceed further down this erotic path. I reduced these women to nothing but the object of my sexual inadequacies and it was not an unenjoyable experience. There was nothing truly sensual about the experience but m ability as a spectator to make it thus. Those women were there bored probably wondering how their kid was doing at home all alone on New Years, and here I was reducing them merely to flesh. I have never ben able to look at a woman like that before that night, either out of timidity or out of a concern for social customs, certainly for a lack of desire.
When you reduce a person like that you yourself feel less human. By devaluing other people you yourself lose in value.
As the night wore on and we warmed up we decided it was time to leave so we got the check only to realize that it exceeded a the amount of money we had. We put together all our money including a dirty 20 from my friend's sock and we were still short. After a while were to be quite honest neither of us was really worried, at least I wasn't. I felt a little numb. We were finally stood up taken to a back room, made to empty our pockets and sent on our way. We left the club at around six and made our way to the train station with out any money in our pockets, in just enough time to catch the first train to Vienna.
One of my friends from Oxford, a Russian Jew living in Boston, came to Vienna on the 30th. we than took a train on to Budapest on the 31st. Got there around noon and walked around a bit trying to find an exchange place. Budapest is a pretty town and the snow made it prettier but I quickly realized that walking with a hole in my shoe is not the best of ideas.
Budapest was at one time two different cities Buda and Pest, they are separated by the Danube. The train station was in Pest and we walked to Buda, there was monument to the WWII dead on a hill and we climbed to that. I didn't much care for it. But my friend liked it at least in comparison with what he saw in Berlin. In Berlin there are almost no reference to the Holocaust besides the Jewish Museum. All the references to WWII are made to the resistance. He did not like that very much, can't see why. It seems that the winners aren't the only ones that write history.
We walked along the castle that is there in Buda a bit modern, wonderfully ornate but idk seems like such a waste. It was similar the the palace in Bratislava but much much bigger, the Hapsburgs knew what they liked. Went into cafe to warm up and ran into some American tourists, and some Romanian tourists. I have taken a great dislike to tourists and all touristy stuff. I have never liked tourists an have never aspired to be one. I hate the idea f going to a place to see the things there are to see and think you have come to know the place, but at the same time it seems like something you should do. I am considering buying a eurorail pass and going from place to place, but why do that besides to say that I have been there. I don't like that. See a place just to see it. It might be more interesting to get to know the people, but that is too hard if you do not already know someone there. As someone said after a certain point different cities become merely different architecture, at least for tourists.
My friend was telling me about the good experiences he had with couchsurfing. He went to the arctic circle and there in a small town he found a girl that let him stay. She worked in an ice hotel and while he was there the Noble Delegates came to visit (including the inimitable Al Gore). He is going to spain and he is planing to the same. I doubt I could do the same. Don't trust people enough.
After the castle we headed to Pest. We came across this square which was lit up with different colors in a mosaic patten. The ground and two of the buildings were full of light and there were fires burning. By this point there was probably more water in my shoes than shoe. I really like this sort of "graffiti" NYU has started teaching a class on how to make that kind of art. It is an interesting way to be able to crete nonintrusive urban art. There is something utterly enjoyable about breating new life into old places.
After that I had to call my mom which is always an experience I can do without.
We alternated between two stages for most of the test of the night. There were fireworks and cheap champagne on every street. We ate kebabs before we started "partying." the second of the two places was organized by radio danube. The first time we were there they had this pop singer that made up for her voice by being attractive. So we stayed there for a bit. We walked down to what must have been the principle ceremonial boulevard. We walked down it talking about life and love until we came to this open plaza between two museums. There were several people at each end of this square lighting fireworks, not the ones that sparkle but the ones that shoot up in the air and are seen from quite a distance. Occasionally one would misfire and shoot out towards the museums. There was a large plastic tent that had become a makeshift club next to the square, we avoided it because it seemed to lack any character and well, you couldn't see outside.
We headed back towards the original stage, but losing our way. We got there with 5 minutes to spare, having bought a small champagne beforehand we thought we had done our duty to father time, only to realize that it was a screw top. We quickly found three euros and brought a proper bottle. As the clock struck twelve were in in this middle of this hugh crowd soaking everyone with champaign and listing to this guy with a viking hat onstage counting down and signing some incomprehensible song. After the crowd had dissipated a little bit we headed towards the other stage.
We were able to catch the last act and only a few songs as that. We danced drunkly bumping into people as if in a desire to create some form of solidarity. A couple joined us in our merriment. The man had a tendency to kick his wife's ass and seemed like an angry drown, so we avoided that situation. We ran into some pseudo-Russian with a bottle of vodka that was more than happy to further our demise but was a little to clingy and a little to confused to justify our extended attention. We danced away like leprechauns through a train station desperately in need of a place to relive ourselves.
At some point during the night we had decided to go to a strip-joint to warm ourselves after the night spiraled downward. We jumped on a trolly which was heading in what I thought was the "red light district." Much to our chagrin it was not. We took the trolly in the other direction. I was so tired/drunk that I dozed off and lost sight of my friend. I got off to find him only to realize my cell phone had no more credit. After some mindless walking and a successful trip to a urine stanched Subway I realized I could use a pay-phone. I made use of this dying commodity successfully and we were shortly thereafter reunited.
To our luck we were able to stumble a cross what we at the time thought was a strip club. We were seated next two two poles on a circular couch, and given menus. Some elderly girl got up to dance in a red dress and black high heels. She worked her way around the pole lifting up her dress just enough to titillate us but it hardly conformed to our preconceived notions of a strip club. We ordered Jacks, they came warm which worked well on our cold tired bodies. Two girls came to sit next to us, I had the more attractive one. She was wearing nothing but lingerie and disgustingly high heels. She asked me if I liked Hungary and what I did, what hotel I was staying in... twice. She had make up on her eyes but the rest of her face was rather bland. She kept moving her feet and playing with her hands. At one point she said that if I bought her a drink she would dance in my lap and for a fee we could go in the room and "you can touch the girl." I told her maybe later. I asked if she would be dancing. After a while I told her that I'm probably not wiling to spend any more cash, so she left seemingly relived. She started to dance after the next song.
After a while another couple of girls came to it and chat but we were both so sick of the place and so tired that we payed them little mind. In many ways I think the experience changed me. i never before that night realized what it truly meant to objectify a person. There I was, in my drunken state, slouching on this couch looking at some almost middle age woman move around a pole in could hardly be called seductive. But I was sitting there mentally undressing, well some of them anyway, looking at the bits of flesh their movements exposed, wondering hopping they would proceed further down this erotic path. I reduced these women to nothing but the object of my sexual inadequacies and it was not an unenjoyable experience. There was nothing truly sensual about the experience but m ability as a spectator to make it thus. Those women were there bored probably wondering how their kid was doing at home all alone on New Years, and here I was reducing them merely to flesh. I have never ben able to look at a woman like that before that night, either out of timidity or out of a concern for social customs, certainly for a lack of desire.
When you reduce a person like that you yourself feel less human. By devaluing other people you yourself lose in value.
As the night wore on and we warmed up we decided it was time to leave so we got the check only to realize that it exceeded a the amount of money we had. We put together all our money including a dirty 20 from my friend's sock and we were still short. After a while were to be quite honest neither of us was really worried, at least I wasn't. I felt a little numb. We were finally stood up taken to a back room, made to empty our pockets and sent on our way. We left the club at around six and made our way to the train station with out any money in our pockets, in just enough time to catch the first train to Vienna.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)