11 03 2009

aside from the lingering effects, echoey through time in both directions, of the other night’s shit-sandwich–i’m trying out chaos’s terminology, and while i’m at it swearing that this time i’m sure i know which one is which, even if the legend says they never quite agreed–“spring break” has been average-out okay with semi-precious gems for highlights so far:

after friday’s all-day kitchen-and-living-room laughter, the parts of the weekend not swallowed by paper-grading and sleeping off the combined effects of a whole day drinking pimm’s & a cold matt lies when he swears was not got from his baby went to curling up on couches with farscape episodes on old cassettes and bsgkidnapped off the internets and going out sunday with christy for a “get the overworked teachers out of their heads” night , which featured walking outside in the wind in shoes that weren’t boots, fish tacos and sweet potato fries at the empire brewery, navigating the empty-eyed stoplights of this dark-echo painted cardboard town to indeterminate music, and sharing tea and girl scout cookies to french music and conversation-books and talk of part-time novelists and art, where it comes from, how to find it in the sidewalk cracks inside ourselves and coax it toward the little bits of light that come through even in between these muddy, storm-black houses.

monday and most of yesterday were also paper-grading days of the “wear pjs and don’t leave bed” variety, helped by the sick and unassisted by my tendency to strike up IM conversations instead of focusing, because i tend toward the kind of ADD that makes it impossible for me to do one thing, makes 3 or 4 possible, and makes me dissolve around 5, so i aim for 6 and sometimes find i’ve had a paper open for 2 hours and it’s still not finished. counterproductive maybe, but the papers don’t talk back, and i’m a mirrorball soul who needs light to shine, preferably from several directions, even if just a couple pixels at a time. last night featured a little fantasy board-game playing and spicy cajun leftovers with friends to a warped-back soundtrack of social-d and the violent femmes, and somehow that made the whole texture of the playing-surface different enough that i got to be the character who saved the day.

and then today appelachienne and i met up in the wild-spun wind outside my wet blue car, threw in cameras and cheese-bread and rain-jackets, and headed south into the farms and gorges out around cayuga lake to photograph the rotting remnants of train-bridges and the toothy crags of tumbled ice-crusts cracked off of the river and heaved against the banks in clear-lined temporary raw geologies until with the ferocity of our enthusiasm we teased the sun out to whip the spray from an ochre-tinted, run-off -heavy waterfall into a luminescent ghost-cloud. ravenous after such feats, we wandered down to ithaca, watched a boy in checkered cord-and-velvet pants juggle on the commons, and then sought out mole burritos, used book-and-record shopping, and more picture-taking in the heavy, color-glass-drenched silence of a church we agreed, had we grown up with, would have made us entirely differently and more optimistically tuned toward the possibilities those golds and purples offered. our drive home, like our walk back from the falls, was through a different country than the one we’d come through: warm-hued, bright, and tinged with green.

pictures will follow, when we get a chance to pool our digital treasures, but for now it’s time to pry neko case in these headphones out of my ears and comb my hair before my ride arrives for tonight’s dinner outing. hasta!




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