long journey
Saturday June 28th 2003, 6:12 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Tags:

Well,it took 24 hours rather than 13. The initial flight to Paris was an hour late. The missed connection led to a rather long and torturous route, flying from Paris to Washington DC, and thence to San Francisco. Air Chance, mon ami, will never receive my money again.

But I’m here, now, and swept up in the thick of things. This is not quite the time for pensive thoughts or entries, but I wanted to post quick word that I was here.

last night
Tuesday June 24th 2003, 3:32 am
Filed under: TPT the First Tags:

No last supper, though, and my hands are permanently stained with the smell of lemon pledge. An anti-climax, I’m afraid, for you, my (un)gentle readers. Exhausted, but I feel obligated to write something. Yes, I’ll continue this. Yes, I’m reachable here, and at my LMH account (see the ‘contact’ link. I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna make that a link right now.).

‘Farewell’, she said, and then corrected herself, ‘or rather, au revoir’. And the hint of tears in her eyes sent me fleeing to the parks, to sob all my fears and frustrations, hopes and thoughts, failures and successes, sun and rain, books and blood and inkjet printers. I wept, and the sky was as large as it is in Oxford, slightly bigger, somehow, than Berkeley. And the one little old lady – a different one – who was walking the other way with a small dog. She saw my tears, smiled at me, and kept on walking the other way, along the path that stretched out behind me.

embarassing URLs, 2
Sunday June 22nd 2003, 12:20 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Links Tags:


goodbyes already
Wednesday June 18th 2003, 11:04 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Tags:

Goodbyes are actually happening. People I’m simply not going to see again – some of them ever, some of them perhaps again. And in the process of packing, digging through my diary for fall of 1998, I saw all the lists of people then, the dinners and drinks and whatnot. Not all that different from now, really, except there’s no list this time. Some of those people from 5 years ago I’m still in touch with; some of them not. No answer to that, one, except to quote a friend, from now: ‘Fuck that’.

NHS Silly
Wednesday June 18th 2003, 10:50 am
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Insuring Memories
Tuesday June 17th 2003, 9:54 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Tags:

‘But how do you insure memories?’, she said. I’m packing my books, again, and making a list of all of them, again. But should they be lost, again, they, and the rest of my belongings, will be insured. But digging through books and boxes, little lives come slipping out of their bindings: a ticket to see Equus in summer 1994, an envelope with a cryptic list in Russian of some of the people I’ve fucked, receipts of books bought in winter days in warm shops. But how do you insure, or ensure, memories? How could I have insured the journals that were lost the first time?

Always already they fade. Misremember re-remember process of forgetting forgotten begotten not made. Hazy days with sharp outlines and few details. Vivid days memorable, perhaps, only for being vivid. Summer is a season of forgetting, I suppose, especially as the weather has been so beautiful here. Forgetting the months of the gray, of the cloud-dark that stretches over the days and months without break. But the country is precisely not about forgetting – the Reformation couldn’t erase things any more than the Germans; just this evening I talked to an old couple who mentioned rationing. A country that remembers. And will it remember me? Beyond the cigarette butts I’ve flicked in corners, marking my scent across England and Europe, what memories do I leave here? Mine? I hope to bring them with, mostly, but cannot insure ensure assure that.

other peoples’ bits
Tuesday June 17th 2003, 9:50 am
Filed under: TPT the First Derivative Tags:

Ah, sheer genius. Two guys, standing in line at an amusement park:
“There are so many people working on solving small problems. I figure if we all worked together to solve a big one, the little ones would just fall into place.”

“And I still think it’s ridiculous.”

“I’m not talking about defeating entropy, I’m talking about making it our bitch.”

I’ve stumbled – rather embarassingly, but hell – over a brilliant blog dedicated to the genius task of harvesting gems of conversation snippets, heard in passsing. The cell phone, especially, exposes people to all sorts of charming, err, exposure. Not only that, but the blog-writer is based in Berkeley, making the geography all the funnier.

Saturday June 14th 2003, 2:33 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Tags:

This charming miniature replica of Three Mile Island is available for a mere 95 dollars, along with other charming miniature ‘buildings of disaster’, including, peculiarly, a miniature of the OJ Simpson car chase. How is that a disaster, exactly? Or a building? I’m relieved to see consistency isn’t a strong point for others, either.

Plane ticket purchased. Removal company scheduled. Why I should be panicked about moving back to the States? It feels as if I’m moving to an alien landscape, enemy territory. What’s a man to do without The Guardian? (Speaking of which, what is it about ‘ua’ that looks so peculiar when stared at for any length of time. No, it’s not a typo, yet looks increasingly wrong.)

Just blabbering and blathering and bothering the placid lives of those who bother to read this rubbish. I was born to alliterate: clearly I went wrong in focusing on chronicles in couplets rather than alliterating acts of textual production (forced? hardly. Tension? Hardly. Bugs/windscreens. Good god, there are a few of you who might recognise that. Kingpin donuts, all those years ago.). Where was I? Oh. Precisely my point…(note to reader: why bother?)

disturbed mind
Saturday June 14th 2003, 1:59 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Links Tags:


it’s a bird…
Friday June 13th 2003, 6:45 pm
Filed under: TPT the First Work Tags:

A friend commented that my web site here seems to have just turned into a blog. Err. yeah. As my intentions were never too clear from the start (and certainly never honourable), I’m not surprised that this has become a simple rant-fest rather than something more substantial. I’m a bit busy these days, too, which might explain why I’m not getting more done on this./end meta-rant.

Bought a ticket for more than I’d wanted to spend: lazy ass works hardest, spends more. Leaving, as anticipated, on the 25th. FUCKIN HELL. Crazy life. 12 days to sort this sheeit out.

For the (ever dwindling number of) people who give a fuck, Cambridge was lovely. Nothing like sitting in old libraries looking at old books while the sun is out shining and people have stripped down to a bare minimum of clothes. Speaking of which, when did the midriff baring thing become an ass-crack baring thing, too? Or is it sort of a modified sagging, now requiring thongs rather than boxers or whiteys? Very fucking bizarre, a display of more pelvic bones than I’d ever wanted to see in my life. Me, I prefer my ass-cracks and pelvises pale…