Imagine Peace

Imagine Peace


Wandering Poet, Amateur Philosopher, Autopilot Outlaw


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Sunday, August 24, 2008

Naropa 2.

I made fish fingers in our toaster oven.  I think this is where the adventure starts.

I made fish fingers in our toaster oven minutes before I had to leave.  I mixed mayo and relish together to make tartar sauce [a handy trick I learned from my parents], and ate 3 fish fingers.  The other 3 I wrapped in tin foil and put back in the fridge; I was already feeling a little bit nauseous.  I ran back upstairs, shoved a bunch of my clothes in my backpack.  That's when the thunder started.  We'd been seeing dark grey clouds loom over Boulder for a couple hours, but nothing had happened yet until I was finished putting everything I needed in my backpack.  A loud roar of thunder burst through our open window.  No wind, no rain, just thunder.  The air was still warm of course, because for some reason it never falls beneath 80 degrees in our room.  I got used to this over the summer, though, when the suite I was staying in at CSUCI had a constant temperature of 85 degrees.

Back to the thunder.  It roared far off into the distance, but with enough gusto that my roommate and I looked at each other in disbelief.  I put on my black hoodie, said goodbye to my roomie, and raced down the stairs.  I was almost out the door when I all of a sudden stopped, turned to the hall closet and took out my rain coat.  I figured I'd be needing that.  It hadn't started to rain yet, but thanks to the thunder, I was given a clue.

As I ran down the stairs to the front entrance, I could see small water drops hit the ground.  It was beginning.  And of course, as soon as I stepped out from underneath the archway, it started POURING.  Massive drops of rain hit my face, and left giant imprints on my raincoat.  I had to walk 5 blocks in this to the bus stop.  I realized my fate, and couldn't help but smile.  I have no idea why, but the thought of walking to the bus stop in the pouring rain, wearing clothes that were definitely not suited for this weather [except for the raincoat I thankfully grabbed], it made me laugh.  Loudly.  The entire walk, I was giggling to myself like a madwoman.  I thought of the time I was with Amanda in San Francisco and we had to walk more than 5 blocks to a bus stop, and all I had were jeans, my black wool coat [with no hood], and my silver shoes.  That small adventure killed those poor silver shoes, but I don't regret it.  That was one of my best memories with Amanda, walking to that bus stop.

Anyways, I'm walking through the streets of Boulder in this ridiculous weather, and there's lightning flashing off in the distance and thunder responding accordingly, and I'm laughing my ass off, soaked to the bone, letting my hood fall to my shoulders because the wind keeps pushing it back anyway, and just trying to get to the fucking bus stop.  I finally get there and I'm completely soaked.  My hair is wet, my jeans are wet; my shoes did nothing, I might as well just gone barefoot.  But I'm here with 10 minutes to spare, and finally under some kind of shelter.  And right as I sit down and admit defeat, the rain stops.  Of course.  I shook my head and silently smiled.

Finally the bus comes, and I get on for free with my student pass, and sit down close to the back.  I figure I'm gonna be on here for a while, I should stay close to the back.  The bus makes several stops on the way to Denver, at places I've never even heard of.  Most of the stops were at shopping plazas out in the middle of nowhere.  It was pretty bizarre.  I'm still sopping wet, and now cold, too, because for some reason the AC is on full blast.

An hour long bus ride and my jeans hardly dried.  I get off the bus and walk up the stairs to meet Katy.  I apologize for my appearance, and she says "no worries", and introduces me to her friends Jaime and Summer.  She and Summer live in Albuquerque, NM, but drove out here to visit Jaime who lives in Denver.  And then I decided to meet them in Denver.  All of them made plans to go to a concert that night somewhere in Denver at a place I'd never heard of, to see a band I'd never heard of, and they invited my along, and I accepted.  I trust Katy's judgment and taste.  I knew I'd be in good hands.

We walked a block or two to this restaurant/vodka bar called Red Square.  Summer and Katy went to Poland for some theatre gig and fell in love with this specific kind of vodka called Zubrowka [pronounced joo-brohv-kuh].  They hadn't been able to find it in the U.S., but this place had it.  So we stopped in, ordered a caraffe of Zubrowka and a bowl of Borscht [a Russian soup made of beets, pickles, eggs, and...something else...but really mostly beets], and then after we successfully and discreetly filled Summer's water bottle with the leftover vodka, we ventured into downtown Denver.  The vodka was a little too strong for me, I only had one sip, but it was fun to watch Summer, Katy, and Jaime have a couple shot glasses full.  They weren't drunk, of course, maybe just a little buzzed.  Anyways, it made for good conversation.

We strolled along the 15th street mall in Denver, just looking at all the stands and stores and people.  We stopped into a Himalayan exports store, and I found a really neat Om charm to add to my collection.  I put it on the chain with the one my mom gave me.  I'm sure people are like "Alright, dude, we get it, you're into that", but whatever, I like the way it looks.  One represents my newfound independence, and the other represents my mom.  The two things I couldn't live without.  And they of course echo my life-changing experiences in San Francisco.  So fuck it, I'm keeping them on one chain.

We grabbed a cab to Jaime's place and figured out our plans for that night.  Summer and Katy and I sorted out our badass outfits for the concert.  I had no idea what I was in for.  I'd never even heard of this band, but from the way Katy and Summer were putting together their outfits, I could tell I was in for something good.  Polka dot knee socks with a black silk dress?  Yes, please.  A plaid vest with a striped shirt and an olive green skirt?  Uh huh.  A star-filled grey shirt with booty shorts and matching grey leggings with snaps on the side?  Oh hells yeah.  We were good to go.  I had a couple sips of a Newcastle, and a few sips of something called Vanilla Port, but I wasn't affected at all.  We hopped in a cab, and took off for the Bluebird Theatre to see Slim Cessna's Auto Club.

The band was AMAZING.  Truly amazing.  It was a 6 part band, with a keyboardist, a drummer who looked about my age, a bassist, 2 male singers, and probably one of the most amazing guitarists I have ever seen, and that is including Pete Townsend and Keith Richards.  I'm gonna talk about the two singers first, however.  They were both very tall, very slim, and very white.  One wore a white cowboy hat with a white shirt, and beige pants, and gold horn-rimmed glasses.  The other wore a black cowboy hat, a black shirt, and black pants.  They looked very similar to each other and sang very similar, too.  Sometimes you couldn't tell which one was singing.  Their showmanship was amazing.  Each song started off as some epic story between them, something along the lines of, "Well, one time, me and Slim here, we was walking down the backroads of Georgia...", with maybe a "Yes sir!" thrown in somewhere, and a steady beat in the background.  The singers also played banjo and guitar when necessary, and actually danced at one point.  They had so much chemistry, and were so in tune with each other, it was awesome.  The entire band moved so well together as one entity.  Yes, the singers stuck out with their off the wall outfits and sheer charisma, but they didn't take away from the band as a unit.  And the lead guitarist, oh my god, this guy rocked.  He was relatively short, compared to the 2 singers, but he could wail.  He played a 12 string electric for most of the show with an image of the Virgin Mary imprinted on the face of it.  He played two different acoustic guitars at different points throughout the show, and of course he busted out the banjo now and then.  He made sounds come out of that banjo that I didn't even know were possible.  At one point actually, during one of their encore numbers, he stood with this back to the audience because it was a song that required a lot of feedback, so he stood in front of his amp making these beautiful beautiful sounds, while the 2 singers harmonized.  We didn't see the front of the guitarist the entire time until the very end when he turned around, and he was not playing an electric guitar, my friends.  No.  He was playing a motherfucking banjo.  A BANJO.  Banjo + feedback = amazing?  Apparently.  I did not know that could be done.

The show ended at about 12:30 am, and we were planning on getting a cab back to Jaime's place, but we ended up just walking instead.  We explored the streets of Denver with only Jaime and the moon to guide us.  It was so cool.  I love wandering through cities like that.  Especially at odd hours.  It reminded me of when I left my dorm at 4:45 am to catch the BART that one cold morning in San Francisco, and how different everything felt.  It wasn't San Francisco anymore, it was a whole other place.  Or maybe it was even more San Francisco without all the clutter.  I don't know.

We walked through a park that apparently used to be cemetery but was then converted into a park [sound familiar, those from Ventura?  Don't we have one of those?], and on the way through the park we came across two women and their dogs.  One of the dogs was a white labrador puppy.  I welcomed it into my arms and it got muddy pawprints all over me.  I didn't mind however, as I hugged it and expressed the same affection towards it as I would've expressed to my dear Franklin.  I miss him.  I let the cute dog go, and we continued on our way.  Summer and Katy walked behind me and joked about seeing zombies and such, because of the park's past.

We reached the apartment, raided the refrigerator, and watched Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure.  That is how the night concluded.

I woke up on the couch with the sun breathing down my neck.  I switched to the other side of the couch so that the sun wouldn't blind me, and fell back asleep.  An hour or so later, I woke up to Summer saying "I want to wake her, but I don't think I know her well enough to tap her on the head like I did with Katy."  I woke up laughing.  We sat around and drank coffee, and then got dressed and went to a breakfast place called Benny's [not to be confused with Denny's].  This was a mexican themed restaurant, not the all-american all day breakfast diner.  I ordered french toast with a side of eggs, and this is where my weekend hits me, friends.  This is where everything came together.  As soon as I downed 4 slices of french toast and took a bite of the eggs, that was when the fish fingers, the Zubrowka, the Borscht, the foreign beer, the leftover vegetarian cal-zone, the artichoke dip, the pita, the coffee, the french toast, and the eggs hit.  I didn't feel too hot.  They'd planned to drop me off at the bus station right after breakfast, but I felt really sick.  So we went back to Jaime's place and I...took care of what needed to be taken care of...and then we took it easy for a half hour or so.  We watched a special on the Discovery Channel about the Freemasons.  At first I was really intrigued, but then after a while, I just got really creeped out.  It is a weird thing.

Finally we said goodbye to Jaime and took off for downtown Denver again.  Summer and Katy were going to drop me off at the bus station and then head back to Albuquerque.  I forgot to mention, however, that the Democratic National Convention is being held in Denver tomorrow, so the streets were packed with all kinds of things having to do with that.  A bunch of Republicans actually rented a large U-Haul size truck and plastered a giant picture of an abortioned fetus on all sides.  It was disgusting.  I'd just started to feel a little bit better, but then I saw that and was thoroughly grossed out.  Freedom of speech, though, freedom of speech.  Besides that awful sighting, there was actually a lot of really cool things going on.  The city was filled with people wearing Pro-Obama shirts and Anti-Bush shirts and carrying flags and picket signs and all kinds of things.  Peace signs everywhere.  There was even this nightclub that was going to have a "DiscObama" later that night.  It was hilarious and awesome.

Summer and Katy pulled up outside the bus station, and Katy hopped out for a few seconds to hug me goodbye.  She got back in the car and I headed for the steps down to the bus station.  I waved as they drove away, about to embark on their own adventure once again, and here I was on mine.  I waited for a good half hour or so, flashed my student ID, and boarded the bus.  It was a relaxing ride back to Boulder, though the stakes heightened when I downed the rest of my water bottle and had to use the restroom very badly.  So for the last 15 minutes, I was very uncomfortable.  Unfortunately there are no restrooms on the buses to and from Denver.

We pulled into Boulder, and I quickly got off the bus and found the ladies' room.  As soon as that was taken care of, I walked back out the way I had came the day before, and continued down the 5 blocks back to my apartment.  I was very proud of myself for remembering how to get back.  I was certain I'd get lost.  But I made it back.  And here I am.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Naropa 1.

I've sat down to write at least 6 times since I've been here.  And now I am not even alone, I am in my dorm with my roommate Sophie, and we've been chatting about TV shows and how many times we have changed in our room mid-day with the blinds all the way up.  She is now uploading a mixed CD her friend made for her, and we have just agreed that 30 Rock is by far one of the best TV shows ever.  She is trying to learn this relatively unheard of song for the Coffeehouse performance tomorrow night.  I wanted to perform, but it's a little hard to get something together when you don't know anyone and the only Coffeehouse accepted thing you can do is sing.  I could read poetry or something generic like that, but who really wants to hear me do that?  I figure I'm better off just listening, soaking in my surroundings, establishing myself slowly, and then working up from that.

I've been falling asleep far too early.  The other night I fell asleep at 7:30, which is 6:30 in California.  I've just been extremely tired, and, if you wanna know the truth, a little lonely.  It's hard to even pinpoint my emotions, however.  Cuz I'm not sad, but I'm not excited all the time...I'm back to being disoriented.  Learning new things, taking it in.  I have a hard time adapting to something new in an outgoing way.  I prefer to stay introverted, and keep my thoughts to myself.  I did this same thing in San Francisco.  That day that I went exploring with Christa and Amanda and we looked at Balmy Alley, I was still finding myself, still finding my place in this new and chaotic world.  The founder of my school apparently described chaos as a good sign because is presents change and opportunities for understanding.  Or something like that.  I can't pronounce or even spell his name either, but just know that it is something beautiful and Tibetan, and you may look it up if you want.  I know it ends in Rinpoche.

Our apartment is really nice.  Two-story with a view of the courtyard, but really mostly trees.  We have black and white checkered flooring, which I was definitely very excited about.  Our kitchen is quaint, and untidy at the moment.  We do not have a microwave, which came as a rather unpleasant surprise when I cut up my tofu the other day and wandered around the apartment searching for an unknowingly non-existent microwave to heat it up in.  I ended up using the toaster oven, and it tastes even better.  So hey, thanks, Universe.

The bus system here is simple.  I get to use it for free, too, which is tight.  They're not buses directly ordered from the school either that only take you to specific buildings.  Fuck you, Academy of Art.  These buses are public.  I'm able to take a bus to Denver for free.  I plan to do so on Saturday to visit my good friend Katy Houska.  I'm really excited.

The people here are all so welcoming, but I for some reason still feel so isolated.  I did however meet a girl who is also from Southern California, and we were able to connect on that.  A "California Club" is in the works, too, apparently.  The proposed idea of the "CA Club" is that during the winter while all the people from the motherfucking East Coast who are used to absurdly cold weather are outside snowboarding and skiing, we will be inside sipping coffee, wearing slippers and robes, and watching classic movies about California.  I think it's brilliant.  I of course will venture out into the cold weather at some point because I haven't since I was 6, and I definitely should.  Oh well, of course there was the snow adventure Amanda and I experienced last January.  But that was Southern California snow.  Though that adventure was bold and dangerous and memorable, I don't think it counts as real snow.  What the fuck do I care, I don't need to convince myself of anything.  Why am I trying to clear all of this up?

I've only been eating tofu and granola.  And vanilla yogurt.  Oh, and I've been drinking water by the bucketloads.  It is so dry out here.  I did not prepare for this weather.  I bought sweaters and coats and jeans and all kinds of cold weather shit, and now I'm sitting in my room wearing a tank top and boxers, with my hair up, a fan going, and the window wide open.  Fuck.  I've gotten tanner out here than I ever have in Southern California.  The sun shines 300 days of the year here.  At least I won't get seasonal depression.

So in our room, there were all these hooks in the wall around the room.  We didn't put them there, they were just there.  So my mom bought me really cute miniature Chinese lantern stringlights to string along said hooks.  Unfortunately you had to put them together yourself.  And now if ever asked "What do you hate most in the world?", I can honestly say "PUTTING TOGETHER AND ASSEMBLING FUCKING MINIATURE CHINESE LANTERN STRINGLIGHTS."  So if ever you buy miniature Chinese lantern stringlights and need help assembling them, please, PLEASE do not ask me to help.

I put all my pictures up yesterday.  Well, the ones I had anyway.  I only have a few, but I bought this really beautiful tablecloth to use as a backdrop and it looks awesome.

We have a skylight.  I thought that was worth mentioning.

Each of our lectures and meetings begin and end with a simple and traditional bow.  It's supposed to center you so that you may engage yourself in whatever will be mentioned.  We repeat it at the end to symbolize a conclusion.  I'm gonna admit, at first I was not a fan, but after a while it's started to grow on me.  Now it seems like second nature.  It's sort of a training process, too, I suppose, because right now it is very hard for me to center and engage myself in such a short amount of time, but I'm sure after a while I will be able to center myself within seconds and fully focus on what is about to happen.  Practice, practice, practice.

I think that's about it.  There's not too much to report on.  I start classes Monday, and they're gonna be epic.  Oh, and Boulder is a lot like Ventura, except instead of seeing the ocean everywhere you go, you see the mountains, which are just as beautiful.  There's already snow on some of them.  I'm thrilled, I'm excited, I'm tired.  Good night.

Monday, August 11, 2008

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To.

I'm not scared.  That's the only thing I can think of to say.  I've been wanting to write this huge testimonial for days now, because that is what I usually do when something is about to come to an end, and a new beginning is on the horizon.  God, that sounded so gay.  So incredibly gay.  I can't even write anymore.  I don't know why.  Nothing I have been writing is interesting in the least, unless I am drunk off my ass, and even then it's not all that entertaining.  I want to write something that doesn't make sense, but everything I have been writing lately is so literal, so tangible, so real.  My mind won't fuck itself up for even a second.  What I really want to do is leave now.  That's what I really wish to happen.  Leaving is so different this time.  Maybe I need to stop seeing it as such a big deal.  Maybe it's not that big of a deal.  Last time, it was a huge deal.  People made time to hang out with me during my last days.  But this time?  No one cares.  No one cares that I'm flipping out.  I am scared.  I am so scared.  But mainly it's because I think I've lost everything here.  I feel like I've lost everything in my world.  A lot of my friendships fell apart this year.  A lot.  And I didn't gain many either.  I just wish that for once I didn't have to throw my own party, that someone could take care of that for me.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Untitled.

And with a whisper and a wink he was gone.  "Into the wild", as he so delicately put it.  I'm glad he said something.  Just the fact that he even told me where he was headed, that he even had the thought to explain, that is altogether reassuring.  Reassuring of what, I don't know.  I go through so many bouts of hate with him, there are so many times where I would like nothing more than to throw him off a cliff.  He never feels that way about me, though.  I know that.  He doesn't want to throw me off a cliff, why should I throw him?  I've constantly been told by people who know us both very well, that we will remain friends throughout our entire lives.  Most of the time, I can't even believe that could ever be true because I get so frustrated with him.  So much of the time I can't even understand that.

But then there I was, laying in bed watching an episode of Scrubs, and my phone lights up.  A text message?  From him?  I could only imagine what it could say.  I thought it was a mistake at first.  All he said, though, was that he was leaving to go backpacking, he wouldn't be here when I left for school, so he wanted to wish me good luck and he knows I'm gonna do great.  There's a part of me that is frustrated with the fact that he could even think that text message would mean ANYTHING to me, but of course, sentimentality gets the better of me, and I shouldn't rebel, I should just be gracious.  He didn't have to say anything, I fully expected him not to, but he did, and it was very nice, and somehow proves that I wasn't a total dumbass when I was in love with him.  See, he's an actual human being, and I did maybe mean something to him at some point...

He'll be gone for 10 days, in some unknown world, with no cell phone or computer or anything.  I can finally stop holding my breath and relax.  No danger of seeing him or anything.  He's out doing his own thing, and I'm about to do mine.  It's really quite relieving.  I'm glad he left before me, now I don't have to worry about goodbyes or confrontations.  Fuck it.  Forget it.  He's gone.

It's just nice to know there are no hard feelings on his end.  He was fine with contacting me.  And that's a start.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

On a Rainy Monday.

Just breathe.  Breathe.

8 days.

I think I'm gonna call him next week.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Weary & Bleary Eyed.

The other day, I couldn't even hold it in long enough to write it down, I just spoke.  I rambled and rambled like a mad woman, clutching the phone in my hand with your number dialed, just daring myself to hit "call."  I recorded everything I said.  Most of it gibberish, hardly making sense, fragments of our past sewn together haphazardly by a neglected shrew.  I can't even count the number of times I have thought about calling you.  The number of times I've thought about what I would say, what you would say, if anything at all, and how it would feel to finally call you.  I know it will never measure up to what I want.  Never.  I will never get what I want from you, and that is what kills me and haunts me and makes me want to call you, but keeps from actually doing so.  Everything feels unfinished and it kills me that you don't feel the same.  Aren't you even the least bit curious?  No, you're not, answered my own question, didn't even need to pause for a reply, I just know, I always know, I don't even know what I ask or wonder, because I always know the answer, I always knew the answer and yet there I stood for 3 long years, 3 years of heartache and depression, just waiting and wondering and wishing, analyzing the tiniest look, the tiniest phrase.  I remember wanting to stay up until all hours of the morning, just waiting for you to call, there was always a chance that you would.  My first summer without you, my first summer without seeing you almost every day.  My first summer without even riding in your car, or speaking to you at all.  I didn't even hear your voice this summer, not once.  Not a phone call, not a confrontation.  And all I feel is numb.  I'm sick of blaming you.  I'm sick of blaming me.  I'm sick of blaming the world.  I don't know where else to turn.  There's still a chance of me seeing you, of me talking to you, of having some sort of encounter.  And secretly and quietly I hope there will be one.  Secretly and quietly I picture it in my mind.  Colorado does not approach fast enough.