Paul Auster spoke at Harvard tonite, so i went to see him. i am fascinated with him, mostly through his relationship with Sophie Calle, who i learned about at MassMoCA with a few partners in crime. he’s kinda fascinating – focused on how an individual can be conveyed through text. his latest work, “I thought my father was god” is a collection of other people’s real life stories that he collected while working on an NPR show telling the stories of real live people. he collected over 4000 stories, but only 180 of them are in the book.

it’s pretty entertaining as a concept – showing that everyone has a voice and a story to tell, that we are all storytellers at heart. so, for his book talk tonite, he actually brought along 5 of the authors who were from the area, asking them to tell their stories. it was the first time he met them in real life, but anyhow.. so, he was interviewed for about 10 minutes about the purpose of the book (by another NPR person) and then the 5 authors told their 1-2 page stories, a mixture of emotions. it was cute, but i really wanted to hear more about Paul Auster, and how his mind works.. oh well. next time.

so, i got him to sign my notebook on the way out – an orderly organized procession where people didn’t talk to the author. but when i arrived up front, i told him that i blamed him for my latest speeding ticket. he looked up, surprised, and i told him how driving cross country, we didn’t turn off the light in the car so that we could finish his book.. and that i couldn’t see a cop as a result and got caught doing 85. he just looked at me funny. ::sigh::

oh.. and really, he’s as scary looking in real life as in person. but he doesn’t seem to have a scary personality, only a scary image. he just seems like a writer, focused inward and rather non-social. i guess that’s just normal, right?

had one of those silly thoughts today. Walking home from the gym, i was damning my right knee for hurting so badly. Sure, i knew why it hurt – i went dancing incessently the night before, bouncing around with a kid i know, acting like i was still invincible. But why just my right knee?

And then it dawned on me – sports! Sure, i only was in ballet for like a week (ok. that’s a lie.. fuck off). But more importantly i played soccer and which leg was my kicking leg? Or what about javelin, discus, marching band (funny quad movements for sideways behavior). Somehow, i think that my right leg learned to be always facing outwards, always at a slight angle.

So, if i force myself to stop walking like a duck and make my toes point straight, things don’t hurt as much. Now, how can i retrain my legs?

things continue to maintain the rollercoaster effect. nothing is settled wrt work and personal relationships. some mornings, i am bright and sunny, jumping for excitement. on other days, everything just seems so dark and hopeless. the biggest problem is that i don’t know how to give myself stimuli to make things either resolve or settle, and i really need to find that. soon.

so i am here, at school, having thought that i was psyched to stay and requestioning that decision in a way that makes me feel pretty shitty. all was psyched and ready to go last monday and then disaster hits. it’s aweful and it’s really fucked with me and my way of doing things. but this is fine, and i am sorta recovering from that. but at the same time, my advisor is in worse shape. and while i have a great amount of sympathy for her, i have a hard time dealing with weeks on end when i don’t get responses to my email, when i can’t see her or meet with her, particularly when i have a paper due that she wants done. and i have to have a thesis topic this week, and that’s not happening. ::sigh:: not sure what to do.

i can’t tell if i’m holding together or not. the last of the people i was actually curious about emerged, so i am pretty certain that no one particularly close to me died as a result of these tragedies. i haven’t cried once this week. i turn away from pictures that disturb me, particularly anything making it too personal. and i’m numb, numb as fuck. and angry, scared and frustrated. i am not fearful of my own life, nor am i angry with the terrorists for what has gone on. i can’t help but think about it intellectually, sit in my mind and wonder what all we have done to piss off other people, what we are doing now and the potential ramifications. i am turning to thinking to get through day to day, only thinking about this shit, thinking about the interactions of countries and politics. and i am watching hatred unfold and it makes me sick and wanting to just hide, frustrated and confused at how a country can divide so quickly into hatred and intolerance. plus, i can’t help but question the images that i am seeing and the government that i am supposed to stand behind.

because my mind can’t get off of all of this, i can’t concentrate on anything else. my whole mind is focused on the situation at hand and i am feeling a growing guilt over my inability to be productive, my inability to think and focus on issues that i can’t even motivate to care about right now. and i feel selfish for thinking that, because there’s nothing happening in my head or in my life that makes me feel productive or useful, so it’s not like i have that excuse. i am not being productive on other levels. i am being numb and withdrawn, unable to do anything, paralyzed in a sense. as the guilt is building, i am feeling more and more depressed and angry with myself.

where on earth do i go with this? how do i get on some track (fuck the right track)

there’s something inherently wrong about having bitchy, impatient, mean administrators working in the front desk of a mental health department. hrmpft.

what a fun and ridiculous day! i arrived into Boston late last evening, picked up my friend B to come play with me and hang out and make me feel at home and la la la.. we came back to the coop where everyone was asleep, but we woke folks up and started moving my shit in. the girl whose room i moved into hadn’t moved out so we put some of her stuff in the hall, but she came home midway so she moved out; we moved in. around 6AM, we crashed after talking and catching up. hard wood floor to sleep on – quite painful.

in the morn, i was awoken by my roommates with pancakes. mmm. i stumbled downstairs to meet the punk rock kids staying with us. sure enough, it was part of the group from our visit in Chicago. it’s a small world. so there is chaos and i am totally welcoming it. plus, they are total sweethearts – genuinely nice boyz.

i spent the day putzing in happiness. as we were about to leave, W showed up and we got to chill with her and J, tell stories, chill out. then we went to Diesel which makes me happy. next, B & i wandered to the fancy girls only gym which made me wanna join. then we wandered back, went to MIT and i got to see the ML in its new condition. next, one of the punk rock boys cut my hair and we went to a poetry slam. it was utterly ridiculous, mostly because one of the girls with us got up utterly drunk and decided to do a cross of poetry and hip hop and made friends with everyone in the bar, getting free drinks and freestyling with one of the other poets. lots of silliness.

the punk rock boyz are great because their lives are so different and i appreciate it.. it just makes me smile.

basically, i had a fabulous day!

i am starting to emerge again. sorted through a few hundred email on the other side of the country and about to get to boston (only one stop away). i am back online (sorta) and feeling too much confusion about the meaning of life, the universe and everything. i should definitely go through my adventures and travels of the last few weeks, before i forget them and they get lost to the memory machine which munches away at all of my past events, leaving a garble of history that’s based in the fictions of my mind.

this reminds me.. on the first of many NPR stations crossing the country, i was blessed with a kind interview of the writer of Memento where he talked about the movie and the disorder and whatnot.. and it made me think back to the movie, particularly that scene were the hero decides to invent his own reality by placing tricks for him to find in the future, knowing he won’t remember placing them. that is after all the philosophy i have when setting various clocks in my world – i won’t remember how fast they are and therefore i will rush to get out of the house as though they were on time. i wonder what other tricks i could play on myself? i am sure i have invented my past over and over again. what about intentionally doing so? that might be fun.

anyhow, adventure details will be recorded in appropriate time. in the meantime, i am going to sleep.

ah… relief.. although i got back early in the morning, i still managed to wake up and go to give my final presentation of all of my summer work. i think it went well, although i can’t entirely tell. but regardless, it’s over…

and goddamn it do i itch. fucking poison oak.

stomach in knots. aches in my body are screaming to remind me of recent stupidities and pain. nerves wracked. completely terrified. kinda dizzy and confused.

it’s time to wrap up my two most essential activities of the summer in one foul swoop of 5 day intensity. wish me luck and sanity, dear goddesses. i am gonna need it because we know that the items atop the pin needle are not going to stay balanced for much longer.

all the meanwhile awaiting crucial responses from back east in many different directions.

maybe it’s time to run away – both coasts are traumatic right now…