starfrosting: (firmament)

Last night Di came over and we cleared the air by virtue of a bro'down, him kinda talking me into the ground a bit but eventually me too stoned to care too much, glad to be sliding back into more normal friendship with its conative powers. I woke up on too little sleep (completely tore up by that boxing fight that was on last night blaring out someone's window, tons of yelling and street noise into the night, Critter getting into it, ugh), Di already left the sofa to go surfing, prayed and had a nice walk with Critter and then off to a family lambroast for Greek Easter out in Brooklyn at a cousin Markos' place. The sky was azure, lots of family scattered elsewhere but my cousins down from Cambridge, my dad's Cousin Stephen manning the lamb which I couldn't (or, at least, wouldn't) eat, my great-Uncle Yannis the patriarch of the family (in good health despite oxygen) and his partner Kristina, spanikopita and touropita and choriatiki with dressing Yannis made and koulourakia, dry red wine and a keg in the corner, little past-toddling-age bebes everywhere, so much beauty and family joy. I was a little nervous 'bout showing up the sole representative of my more "immediate" family, bearded and all, but instead I just got the warmest love (& Yannis, white-bearded himself, complimented my beard, in a way that made it no issue at all). Now I'm home body aching, impending doom about work but at this point I'm inclined to just enjoy the evening and banch it out later this week.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

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Today was a snow day; Di invited me to come to the beach with her since school was cancelled. So we drove out to Rockaway with her surfboard strapped on top of her little '75 beamer, it was sweet the empty plowed streets, outer reaches of the outer boroughs, freezing snow drifts and midday light over the waves. I took pictures while she was surfing, found a little palm-sized pounding rock that looks like a whale, breathed the salty sea air and felt my toes freezing in my galoshes. I pushed the car free on the way home where we watched a pipeline surfing contest over a six-pack and spliffs.

Nico said, Oliface, are you a polar bear now? )


kaimaki

Jul. 22nd, 2010 12:51 am
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It's been a real resinous few days, in between kaimaki mastic ice-cream cones and these aromatic komboloi I got in Hydra that feel like smooth dried black cherries. Tonight's my last night in Athens. I walked home from this little joint Six D.O.G.S. near Monastiraki where I'd gone to hear some music with friends, just a'thinkin' about women and glasses of beer kind of feeling with the long wooden picnic tables and cigarette smoke outside, hot Greek boys with black curly hair and stubble swarming around, Greek girls with great hair and just-so sans-souci polish. So I walked back in the cool night air, faster than the subway anyway and good to breathe. I think my compass is one of my favorite birthday presents ever, midnight moonlight navigation by compass and acropolis.

ramblin'

May. 31st, 2010 10:16 pm
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Tomorrow Bea and I start our drive down to Ida, and as much as I hate unpacking there is a certain organizational joy in packing itself. ) This is probably more than I'll take when I go to Greece (!!), but somehow I feel like I'll need more sartorial options down south than I will in the old country. I love organizing and making things fit and I cannot wait for this adventure!
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Here's a bunch of stuff that feels blessed:



Here's me in my undershirt in my kitchen:
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References and recommended reading )
for my workshop on Jewish and Pagan (well, Feri) mysticism.

july

Jul. 30th, 2009 05:32 pm
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(all of my pictures seem to be at my kitchen table these days.)
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My aunt just reminded me that it's Sukkot. I wish I was observing it; maybe once this onion soup is done I'll take my bowl up to the roof and eat under the clouded stars, at least.

melopita

Oct. 5th, 2008 01:41 pm
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It is a gray and cold Sunday today, which as far as I'm concerned makes it the perfect day to make a 5-part Greek feast for dinner with the new roommate. I kind of want to walk to Fairway so I can buy Greek honey for the melopita (honey pie!) I'm gonna make.
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Once upon a time I found a pair of beautiful cordovan Chelsea boots at Beacon's Closet- you know, the ones that were two or three sizes too big but nothing some insoles and heel cups can't fix? Well, I went out getting lost wandering one night and it started to rain. Lo and behold, the beautiful cordovan leather started peeling and cracking. I didn't know what to do.

I fixed them today by saddle-soaping them up, applying thin coats of melted polish into the cracks, polishing them and smearing in some protectant for good measure:
before ) and after )

They look much better, though obviously the cracking/peeling hasn't been fixed. If any of you guys know how to prevent it from getting worse-- or looking better in the meantime-- please let me know. Otherwise, just admire my decent repair job!

(PS- that crappy haze in the first picture is from the silicone waterproofer I'd used-- which I think I'll hold off on with these boots)
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1) A flaming tin of boot polish is one of the most beautiful things in the world.

2) I just got back from a nice long walk with Critter to the dogrun over in Morningside. On the way over I made friends with this West Indian man named Sunshine, who chatted with me about all sorts of stuff but was also kind of flirting with me. It took me a minute, but I was like, Ohhhh, he thinks...Oh.

I am training my self not to care, you know? Focus on the positive effects of méconnaisance, like strange joyful interactions with neighborhood men who don't know I'm a boy. (I mean, not like I'm always misread by everyone, but it happens, like at the 124th st deli. For a while, oh blissful ignorance, I just thought the guy behind the counter was fearless about flirting with boys. Oops.) Speaking of blissful ignorance, I am also trying to give myself the benefit of the doubt in situations where I can't tell-- like at the dog run, with this beautiful hazel-eyed kinda straight-acting guy with a little dog named Bucket.

3) So, trying not to care, but also, in true Gemini fashion, oscillating back and forth regarding wanting to shoot T again. Baaack, and forth. Wanting to feel my voice thickening in my throat again.

4) Time for a bathroom haircut.

pride/hide

Feb. 28th, 2008 08:44 pm
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Tonight has been really good. I went for dinner at a taqueria I really like with an old/new friend who I'm happy to be seeing more of; she's warm and smart and genuine and great to chew the fat with. I came into a leather jacket that makes me feel strangely blessed, a mantle of accumulated butch strength on my shoulders. It was so cold out I thought I'd have to take a train over, but luckily I decided to walk the 3 avenues 16 blocks over with twilight lasting longer than I thought, the stars only blinking out in the cold on my way home.
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"Endurance," writes Rosi Braidotti, "is also an ethical principle of affirmation of the positivity of the intensive subject, or in other words its joyful affirmation as potentia." And then, I swear to G-d, Iggy Pop comes on the radio singing about his lust for life with that bopping AEGD throb. I think my thesis is diverging significantly from the outline I made a couple months ago, but what's most promising is that the threads I seem to be pulling out were there all along and my focus is sharpening, however slowly.

Even though it's been dark for 3 hours and it's cold, I'm settling into it. Sweatshirt and slippers and an unopened can of diet Coke to my left, fuel for the next few hours and note-taking and, G-d willing, writing. Write write writing.

And how are you all, barely more than a month away from midwinter?

proof

Jul. 14th, 2006 01:20 pm
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Warm bread with butter and honey is proof that G-d loves us and wants us to be happy.
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It is Ren [livejournal.com profile] taxishoes' birthday today! He is the best, all the world should bake him a cake.

Today whilst basking in the sunshine mugs of wine at our feet books spread upon our laps Cathy and I were looking at the birds in the trees surrounding our little stone paved backyard. I was looking mostly in that way when I hear one, look up to see what kind of bird it might be, and flinch when I hear its wings and feel the shadow of death pass over me. But it was nice nonetheless, and Cathy said if she were a nonhuman animal she'd be a songbird. I thought about it, pushed my back against the rotting sunwarmed fence, admitted I'd be a dolphin how sweet it'd be to beat yr muscled sleekness through waves and crest in the air, push through on the backs of waves. Then I said well, aside from a dolphin, I'd be a hawk. You know as much as I'm terrified of birds there are some birds I really like, like hawks. I think I would be a falcon, swooping down wicked fast.

Cathy said, "Whosa top?"

And I almost died from laughter. (First, her use of 'whosa,' which is clearly my influence by way of House. Second, the fact that being a falcon does sort of embody any toppish tendencies I have. Thirdly, the fact that *Cathy* referred to a hawk as a Top of an animal--which it clearly is-- and I'm sure had to link that up to my unfettered bossiness around the house [read: kitchen.]) Then Cathy made an allusion to some Chaucer I've never read about a parliament of birds. Then I thought about being a hawk and swooping down, saying "Give it up, your throat is mine!" to some little bunny. Life is such a delight.
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I don't know why anyone bothers going to English classes where there isn't at least one mention of anal fisting in the course of the semester. In other words, the final O'Rourke seminar did not disappoint. I am gonna write that man the best damn paper I can considering I've done fuck-all this entire semester and my brain is ever-so-slightly flabby.

There was something else I wanted to say but it's gone. Considering I slept for 4 hours last night I think that's acceptable. This weekend I want to play the yeshiva boy and spend the whole time working, bent over a table, maybe a candle for that extra touch of studiousness. Okay, I realize I just said bent over a table, but that's not what I meant. I meant stooped like a scholar in an Isaac Bashevis Singer story. I might go watch movies with The Dykes (as I accidentally nicknamed those 3 dykes I met at Centre Stage when Ren and Jaclyn were here) tonight. Monogamy is weird and so is the realization that sometimes if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it might just be a duck, rather than a butch duck.

Rory and I used to call boys ducks, after the Weetzie Bat convention. And biscuits, with types of pastry delineating personality/physical type, also after Francesca Lia Block (whose books I am very much regretting having left at home. Who the fuck brings D&G instead of nice pomo-magical-realist stories?)

Oh man I get to cut Cathy's here now. I'll let you all know how it turns out. It's gonna be drastic! And by drastic I mean fabulous.
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I guess one doesn't pack hangers and room decorations when one goes abroad?
I do suppose, however, that one packs period. I have yet to do this. I also have yet to unpack completely from Vassah so whatever. Latkes and soufflé and wine for dinner; it was delicious. I never told you all about the good part of being in the city. There was more to it than crying a lot! There were latkes and ta 51 beauties at EE's all the way up at 83rd and me cooking breakfast with Mia near Prospect Park and fun with Taylor which included: sitting behind a plastic sheet at one of those Indian restaurants with red lights all in the inside (our seat included a wonderful vinyl-capped lamp with spinning light-up fish pictures), me shaming him by drinking beer out of a straw from a paper cup, Patti Smith!, this woman like Rosie O'Donnell telling me I was taking up her personal space, and lots of wonderfulness. Now that I'm back home in my scramble-pit of a room all I want to do is lie around reading D+G (or even The Spell of the Sensuous, if I were to stick to one book at one time) instead of calling friends or packing or doing anything productive. Fiaca, without actually being overwhelmingly satisfied by anything. I suppose that's just 'laziness.'
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(you are the destroyer of suffering, the abode of grace)


* * *
I just ate a delicious sandwich. It was a boca burger with provolone which I normally don't like and pesto (with pinenuts, like it ought to be!) which I always like and pale tomatoes that were actually just fine on crusty bread. + it came with French fries some of which I ate with ketchup and hot sauce. Ooh and chocolate soy milk. I ate so much and felt so happy and then my tummy started to hurt. Aw yeah.

Philosophy essay, in which I talk about fun stuff like homophobic disavowal + narratives of a "true self" with regards to the closet, and oh yeah Nietzsche, equals done. As in out of the oven and with nothing sticking to the toothpick.


Wow, I didn't realize how ridiculous I was feeling til I sat down to make an entry. Oh well.

Oh and I took 2 Vitamin C and E pills today that were the size of small buttplugs. Back in the day when I used to take Chinese herbs in pill form that were enormous we called them 'horse pills.' Well, now there's a new comparison, take it or leave it.

I need to go write an inane French essay now. Much love, me.

whee!

Dec. 11th, 2003 11:51 am
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All of Vassar is a puddle! Green and sloshy and the snow is melting to mudlicious slush and the water is deep cold and clear. I got a copious amount of cookies from The Baker at home, and a bath stopper, from my mom, in the mail! Oh drank Guinness last night and finally fell asleep! Ooh, and Squirm (the campus sex-positive pornzine) even gave me a rad (and unintentionally hilarious) gift as thanks for helping set up and carry off Hot Chocolate, that lovely event which gave me an excuse to prance around in next to nothing.

In short, puddles! Cookies! So even though I'm exhausted cos I couldn't sleep til like 3 last night and then woke up to go to the bathroom and almost had a panic attack about opening the stall door, now I am happy!

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