Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Turn me on with your electric feel.


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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism
I did it.

I danced like I said I would.
Tip some powder up your nose and dance until the world glows.

Arrive drinking sparks and be on the list. Catch a wicked hip hop act and hear a house version of radiohead. Incorporate kicks and acrobatics and seduction in a dance that has the whole room watching. Have a girl follow you into the bathroom, into your pants, but refuse to kiss you. be amused by the boys who can't have you.

Learn that someone very important thinks you did your europe trip right. It's nice to hear.

Stay around, if you can make it, for the absinthe shots. The waterballoon fight, the naked boy pissing everywhere.

Walk home with a girl, drinking fresh orange juice and crawling into recycling bins for impromptu photo shoots.

I did it all.

and after a nap I was up and at it again. Afternoon in Mccarren Park Pool to see MGMT despite the rain. Barefoot despite the hipster mess. Saw so many friends despite the crowds. Ate the best special brownies ever and realized MGMT actually jams out despite their indie rock hit single. remembered why I loved new york despite it all.

After there were more random parties, running into hula hoopers BBQs and bedford L biking girls who are attempting to bring down the system.

Yesterday was more of the same. Cousins and napping in tompkins, walking hand in hand in union square

WHY BE A LESBIAN WHEN THERE ARE SO MANY MEN OUT THERE? (because they are all assholes like you...)
Drinking celebration apple juice when the girl DID bring down the system.

Here's the video she edited. it's all over the news.



The cops being investigated. She worked hard to edit this and I'm so proud of it. You can help by reposting it all over.

I finally made it to the new House of Yes, drank a 40 oz and hauled rubble for an hour while a girl laughed at me doing hard labor in a pretty white dress.

La de da, more bushwick apartments and hookahs and corona 40oz and finally a long awaited sleepover where a girl and I compared our moves to the dance moves on tv.

I think we won. But, I'm a bit biased.

And after she made me tea this morning I made it back here. Packing my things and leaving to MD. A temporary goodbye to the city.


I am leaving again.

Thank you, New York City. I was scared I was going to be forgotten.
But not at all.


I'll be back soon.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Danger. Keep hands and feet in new york at all times.


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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism
Back in this city and finally not jetlagged.

Funny, to be sitting back in my old home, on a mac. Funny, to not live here anymore. This is not where I belong.


I got into town and went straight to a marvelous house in brooklyn. A whole house. It doesn't feel like you are in new york: three lovely people and it is always hotboxed.

I've been learning how to patch bike tires and reading david sedaris. Kissing and cuddling. Eating vegan chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and crashing union square drug deals. having conversations with a pretty girl over an avocado and trying my best to hold on to the peace I brought with me through passport control.

I spent the day in coney island, eating mangos and tacos, drinking coronas and pina coladas. Smoking joints. not kissing on the beach. being scandalous in the wonder wheel, in the photobooth. sizzling in the heat. trying not to think about how dirty the water is.


Today I left the williamsburg house after an admission:
I am falling for a girl.

And I am homeless again because I am scared to be attached to anything. or maybe because homes dont want to be attached to me.

Still, it took europe for me to admit things so bravely. To tell the truths I'd rather swallow. It's not about getting what you want, it's about knowing you tried. That's what will let me sleep at night.

I'm in limbo.
But tonight, I am going to revel in being alone. I want to dance till my friction throws sparks and sweat until the tears I'm not crying have no choice but to exit through my pores.

I know nothing, of that I'm sure.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Going to New York


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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism
I'm in the city. Crazy tired, jetlagged and all that jazz.
Couldn't sleep.

Spent the last night an hour outside of london with christina and her baby. Both of whom are beautiful. We went out for passion apple cocktails and girly chatchup.

It's so crazy that she is a mother. She is so happy. I'm in awe of her. So brave... Following love across continents.

We cooked dinner and drunkenly passed out just to wake up to baby liam in the morning.

Been travelin ever since.

I'm reading the newest david sedaris, drinking hot chocolate and baily's, trying to stay awake.

And to be honest, haven't had a more upbeat attitude in years.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Paris. People. Places.

























The Luckiest Girl On the French Rivera

Leaving Cassis was difficult, but it had to be done because I desperately wanted to hit the highway to loveparade.

Hitched a ride to lyon (north) and had a bizzare turn of the luckiest events. To sum it up:

Ended up at the right ticket station in time for the right ticket window lady to take the right amount of pity and ask the right manager about the right full train.
Ran to the right train and talked to the right person next to me who had the right paris metro pass because we were late arriving and I ran to the right metro...

you get the picture?

I made it to dortmund for 40 euros on the nicest train possible, 1st class despite the trains being full, one being late, and having 20 minutes to take two metros from one paris station to the other.


Get picked up by a couchsurfer and the day begins.

!LOVEPARADE!

1.6 million techno lovers.
pissing on the street. dancing for 12 hours in the rain. modern day woodstock. Paul van dyke. underworld. digitalism. moby. hard bass. glitter glitter glitter. tecktonic dancing. flirting. smiling at all the pill poppers. people falling in the mud. taking pictures while trying to save my camera. smoking with a kid from holland. learning german.

being part of history.

Muscle and bone hurting on the carride back to the kindest couchsurfers house. A hot shower.

I took a plane the next morning to london, where I stayed last night.

Ate carribean food in camden market. Went to an organic store owned by an iranian guy. Exposed breena's sister molly (my lovely host) to smoked almonds and dried figs. Smoked hash overlooking the city.

RAN INTO MARTA my best friend from last summer who moved to SCOTLAND for a year on the street and caught up with her and her boyfriend before they hit barcelona.

Watched the machinist and laundered my muddy shoes. Ate dinner with bunch of international kids at her house. Had mint tea.

I am listing everything for lack of an ability to cram it all in. I leave tomorrow.
I have thank you notes to write. People to kiss and hug. Scholarships to finish.

One day.

Word on the street. Part 1.








Welcome to the Hostel Cassis


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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism
[If you don't already know, my ability to upload pictures does not correspond with my ability to write blogs meaning they have nothing to sdo with each other.]

[and it's not blood. it's cherry juice. best. cherries. ever.]

I get into Cassis, finally, exactly 24 hours late.
The tourist office is closed and the phone at the hostel isn't answering. I have to buy groceries and find the hostel before dark.

Let me explain:

Cassis Youth Hostel is situated on top of a mountain an hour hike outside the city of cassis. It runs on well water and self-generated energy. You must bring your own food to cook in the kitchen. Check in time is between 6-9 PM.

I get a map from a nearby hotel, applaud my thinking skills and set out to where I think I'm supposed to go...

About an hour later, I'm sweaty and scared walking on the side of a highway.

THIS WAS NOT THE RIGHT WAY. DUH.

From this point it takes 2 hitched rides with strange men and a few rather confusing incidents- but I arrive.

It is a fucking paradise. Mike benko's sister was right on.

Communal kitchen.
Mulberry tree.
Quaint yellow building.
In the middle of a nature reserve.
Overlooking the town.
Overlooking the water.
Vines and figs and candelit tables.
Girls juggling.
Old men reading.
Me eating in wonder-lust.

The water is a 40 minute hike, but there are no beaches. Just calanques- rock cliffs directly to the water.

You spend all day reading, hiking, swimming, sunbathing on rocks, cooking delicious meals and drinking french wine.

I stayed three nights. Learning how to use wine to make my food. Learning to cook for one. Dancing under the moonlight to the hostel cassis version of "hotel california". Smoking joints and picking berries for dessert.

it's no wonder people who discover this place come back year after year and never forget it.

come with me, next time.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

summer in the city


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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism
I have 15 minutes of online time in the dortmund airport.

Let me tell you where I have been:

After a last night in barcelona full of poi and glittery modeling on hula hoops and singalongs- ada and I decided to go to figueras, the birthplace of dali and the city of teatro museo de dali- the dali museum. The town was dead other that the museum- which was packed full of surrealism and history and inspiration.

We stayed at a cheap hostel at the edge of town, making art and drinking 40 oz. I drew shitty looking clocks on her torso and took pictures.

In the morning I headed to Cassis... but never quite made it. There are lots of fires along the french rivera in the summer because of the woods and the dry heat so I was stuck in Marsielle.

Nervous breakdown number 1: you are stuck in a city where you dont speak the language and have no place to sleep. you cant find internet. its 7 pm.


Finally found a place to stay in one of the TWO youth hostels.

Nervous breakdown number 2: Its bastille day. your in a major port city in france but stuck 40 minutes outside the city and all you wanted was to be on a mountain.

Luckily, I met a sweet girl from Rome and picked up a few more hostel girls from canada, bottles of wine, and food- and caught the last bus into town.

Bastille day is a RIOT. Firecrackers on the street. Fireworks. Drinking everywhere. Smoking joints on the pier. Whiskey and coke. Throwing firecrackers and getting yelled at in french. Meeting cute squat kids from paris. Losing some friends. Gaining some friends. making ten goat cheese, arugula, and tomato sandwiches for everyone. Getting beer free for dancing on the street. Buying cheap vodka. Catching a cab to the beach which is 5 minutes from your hostel. Skinny dipping with people you just met. Kissing mohawked squat boys. Blacking out on the walk home. Stopping to take blurry pictures every 5 minutes. Finding them in the morning. Realizing you brought the squat kid to your hostel. Nursing your hangover at the beach the next morning.

Having some random person on the beach buy you and and all your friends lunch. going back into the city to walk the arabian market. Drinking coconut juice. Eating watermelon on the pier.

Finally getting on the goddamn train to the mountain paradise.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

eres para mi


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Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism
I am stoned and drunk from the hash and beer the internet cafe guy keeps giving me.

I have been sleeping on nude beaches listening to Thom Yorke and drinking cava brut. I´m addicted to jeugos naturales (fruit juice) and sunshine.

Two nights ago I biked out to a queer party uphill, and on my return at 5 am I crawled all over my bike, no hands, soaring for 20 minutes.

I´ve been learning about south american trips- the kinds in the mind. I´ve heard spanish chanting.

It´s raining. The drops are the size of your hand and face.

I HAVE BAD NEWS: I broke my camera lens. I actually cried about it. Nothing happened, it just ceased to focus. I have bought an overpriced shitty kit lens but I´m bitter about the loss of my pretty baby. Zoom lens <3.

Otherwise i´m grand lovers. Seriously missing you though.
It´s my greatest fear to be forgotten, to be replacable.
To be replaced.

You have no idea my how much I think about you. About home. For the first time I am taking my pleasure into my own hands (literally, for those of you with a dirty mind) and it´s terrifying.

Sometimes I get lonely. Or maybe it´s just the mountain goats song.

What´s French for Tattoo?