We Were Excited, but found out it was only a cd release party

I showered and opened my window and heard seabirds and smelled bbq this morning. Spent some time in bed playing Final Fantasy or hiding from the sunlight that will glare at me for about half an hour before it moves away from my wall. Last night Alex and I checked out two bars. Gloria Flames and some other place down the street. I don’t remember its name. It was a weird name.

Gloria Flames was cool because it was like a dive/indie rock joint. But while we were there I think max, six people were standing around. Sort of just drinking, flipping through magazines, or talking next to candles in low voices. Low tables and chairs that seated maybe eight lined windows on the second story looking over to the street in Gronland. Then there was a bar in the middle, a Macbook with itunes blasting music. High stools and tables, and a place for a dj to spin. Then it went far back, where I didn't explore, but I think there was a large balcony with tables and chairs and more private rooms for the close of heart.

We left, hungry, pretzels not doing it. The next bar was livelier. Filled with people. There is another upstairs with another bar, a dance floor. But it never seemed to fill up. Toilets weren’t designated. You just take one, push the metal piece above it and it flushes. I thought it was cool. I had a really good burger. Alex had a chicken sandwich. I just want to stress that this was my first real meal since I got here. No cafeteria bullshit, nothing frozen, and nothing I made on my own, weak sauce self.

The burger, I ate at the bar, half standing half sitting. I used my utensils to the fullest. Ended up eating either just bread or meat the time I indulged. The fries were good. The rum and cokes were good. The cute bartender was good. She was from up north. I liked her eyes. She gave me a free beer. It was delicious. Alex has her piercing, she is unable to digest beer for fear of yeast infection. So the day was mine.

We chilled to the beat. Alex New Yorked it up with a cosmopolitan. Mojitos are extremely popular with everyone. Except the bartenders will bitch about getting them sent back because people are picky; they aren’t sweet enough, not sour enough. Its cool watching them crush the mint though. Up and down, like the commercial. Thats all my mind thought of, people dancing to the beat of the crushed ice and mint leaves.

And the trains, at night, sometimes they run out of power or just stop on the tracks. Then the conductor seems to think that he needs to make up for lost time. So he puts his foot down, full speed ahead, and we shake and rattle and watch everything go by way too fast; through the underground tunnels and out the other side, a mess of noise. These are old fucking trains. I don’t think they like the strain.

I hear stories of back home. And I miss stuff a lot. And Tom was making this parallel between this Ursula K. Guinn book. People in the extreme cold just getting stuck in the 1800’s, and it feels like that here. Stuff just not happening. All the stores, shops, everything is closed today. I am surrounded by a weird oldness that I am not used to. Since my home, at home, everything is new. And castles and palaces lining the sidewalks. National theaters filled with hipsters and chandeliers of crystal and gold ceilings.

And Alex and I wanted to bbq in celebration of the Super Bowl but I don’t think that is going to happen now. Instead lying around wondering about tomorrow and what everything is going to be like when it warms up. My head sort of considering the possibility of me not being cold is enticing. The second plan was to head to a 7-11 or Narvessen (the competition) and get some bacon dogs, but they are all closed today too. Do people just disappear on Sundays?

The sky is very blue, and seems almost tilted. At the edge, and the clouds are there just floating. I can see them move from my window. Its still sunny, it’s lasting longer each day.

After the bars, the drinking, the celebration, all the time spent in the night. We took the last train home and in revelation, slept.

I don’t think there is much else turning right now. Gears at work and such. I lay about. In my bed. Staring at the ceiling. Alex has pointed out that there are fingerprints all over my ceiling, so I just think about people having sex. But that makes it all upside down. How were they having sex on the ceiling? With suction cups? Maybe hands dragging as steam poured in from the bathroom, or turning the heater on in the room all the way up. Its too late, the time is 2:30 am and I have edited this entry. And now it feels like it is all too late and all the things that made this entry before have drifted away. The moon is covered in clouds and has walked far past out of range from my window. But what I was saying was, that this small part, here, is going to be like another layer of feeling, added onto to a previous self of reflection. So I think its kind of neat, integrated together like that.

The parrot’s face is looking at me. And my tickets sit on top of its face. Three beer bottles line vertically next to my mouse. There are giant headphones, a DS lite, an ipod, a lamp, and the ever present orchid. Coke bottles stacked on the left on the stand and the day, again, closer.

I am anxious to come home in the glory of summertime.

Endless Summer hanging from a door.


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shanty town, ghetto...kringsja