Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Introduction back to America. Day 3. [draft]


Jaime picked me up from the airport. We then proceeded to the liquor store. He bought nine bottles of fine wine for Dana and guests. One half liter of Absolute Vodka and a case of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and a Summerpack. $200. Then we went to the beer store where we bought three wine-size bottles of beer. One of them was $30. Lunch at the Frisco Grill. Steak Fajita Sandwich with goat cheese and fries for Jaime. Two chicken tacos for me. Four original beers. Northcoast Prankster. Evolution Lot #3 on firkin. Sierra Nevada 30th Anniversay Fritz and Ken. And one white marsh blueberry on cask. $40. Everyone at the bar knows Jaime’s name. He keeps a book. Every time he goes to the bar he drinks three original beers and writes them down in his book. That means he never has the same beer twice. These last four beers puts him at 680 unique beers at that particular bar, which he frequents twice a week – Wednesday and Friday 2-4. Happy hour. Next stop – the beer brewer store. Maryland homebrew. It smells like malt in here. Kind of makes me feel ill, but he gets a high off of it. We buy 3 pounds of malted wheat, a pound of crystal 40 and a pound of crystal 60 and an ounce of hallertau hops. A bucket of sanitizer. $30. Someone is grinding malt and the air fills with little malt sugar dust particles. BJ’s. I am in a daze. The stacks of everything pile high to the ceilings of this warehouse. They have perfectly good black stretchy jeans for $15. Huge quart-size bottles of Listerine – 2 for $10. You could buy this thing and not run out of Listerine for two years. T-shirts for 8 bucks. I want to buy clothes. Jaime buys a 28 pack of 20oz waters. 3 bottles of lemonade. A bag of pinenuts and pistachios. An economy size pack of Bratwersts. One variety case of Izzy sparkling fruit juice. 3 different flavors. 72 rolls of toilet paper. “Gotta whipe my butt!” exclaims Jaime in the car on the way home. “Couldn’t find the whipey things,” he reminds me. Spending the day with my brother in suburban America: priceless.

I lay in bed at my brother’s house and there are no arms wrapped around me. No hands to hold. No one to scratch my back. No one to tell me what to do next or comfort me and remind me that I will figure this thing out. I take my first nap alone. It is 5pm. I don’t wake up until 1am. I decide to go back to sleep. I sleep until 7am.

Sunday, July 04, 2010

no taxation without representation


(an email from my friend Jon 7/4/10)

life is truly weird and very airborne. kind of like a virus. kind of like juggled chainsaws. i don't know how to feel about it and it gets me so lost in thought i started to feel at home there, in thought. i built a house there and wasn't lost anymore, and i don't get up but to use the thoughtouthouse and pour thoughts all over folks like yourself. life is up in the air. even if the jugglers drop the ball, and even if it shatters, atleast the clean up effort will have a strange humpty dumpty beauty to it. up in the air is the best way to be. easier to find out if you can fly or not up there. not as dirty as down in the ground, nor as claustrophobic.

good times to you! fuck the british! independence!
jawndice

Friday, July 02, 2010

Introduction to America. Day 2


Within 48 hours of arriving back in America I have managed to spend nearly $400. It is baffling to me the rate at which it disappears - taxis, phone expenses (t-mobile gave my phone number to someone else!), food, drink, metro, luggage charges. Already suffering the effects of this abrupt awakening - yesterday I awake at 4.30am, today 5.45am. Hungover. Head throbbing. I'd like to get better at this - follow my costs as I see Bryan doing - keep a log, make monthly/weekly limits & goals. Save. Grow. It's probably a good time to stop hoarding things too - little scraps of paper from all over the world. I do not journal anymore like I used to. It's only really something you can do when you have a stable home. All around me I see women slightly older than me - with children. Motherly American women with motherly hair and motherly shirts. It will always be a strange sensation returning to the US without a job, a home, and many old friends now so distant. Was hit with that age-old alienation yesterday after dropping off Owen, wandering about Williamsburg friend-less, hoping to find someone to eat dinner with & spend the evening with. Alone. Alone is such a strange phenomenon. America seems so strange again - like a David Lynch film. Characters ingenuine - something is always slightly off; dreamlike. I crave intimacy but it's not something I can expect 48 hrs off the boat. It will take time but I will make sense of this life.