shouting at the devil

when i was 13 years old my musical tastes dipped briefly but intensely into the heavy/hair metal that was popular at the time. my favorites were guns n' roses, aerosmith, skid row, slaughter and of course, mötley crüe. from my shelterted suburban vantage point these guys were the loudest, the craziest and had the best music. i loved tommy lee the most, and still have a guilty pleasure affection for his brand of obnoxious irreverence.

i was always dying to go to shows, but my overstrict mother wasn't having it. i'm sure the hairsprayed whiskey-slugging rockstars flipping off the camera in the posters that adorned my walls didn't help. i'm not sure what she thought happened at these concerts, but she was sure that it was dangerous, mind-polluting and definitely not appropriate for her innocent teenaged daughter.

so it was with a sense of vindiction, relief and anticipation that i attended my first heavy metal show last friday with the perfect buddy, the one who probably got me into this music in the first place, my cousin steve. we had free passes to crüefest at great woods. i would finally be seeing the rock heroes of my youth at the venue i had begged to go to so many years ago.

these free passes were courtesy of steve's neighbor, a guy named rob with slightly glazed eyes, cutoff denim shorts and what i took to be the mild defiance of a leftover hippie. his ex-wife's stepson was in one of the opening bands and had supposedly left us tickets at will-call. when the tickets failed to materialize we were left in the parking lot, speed-dialing the ex-wife in cali to contact the dude on stage to let us in. things were looking bleak.

suddenly our luck turned around and we found ourselves knocking on doors of tour buses looking for this kid. surprisingly, this strategy worked and then we were kicking it in the bus like real rockstars or groupies, or hangers-on. sheepishly we made small talk while the tour manager procured our passes.

our luck took another precipitous turn when our tickets turned out to be mötley crüe guest pass stickers and suddenly we're backstage, like wayne and garth, trying to be cool but eyes akimbo because tommy lee was afoot. i spotted a blond head watching tv in a makeshift living room outside a bus, complete with leather sofa, flatscreen tv, potted plants and rocker babe. vince neil? oh yes. he turns to look at us. i drop the ball and play cool, missing a golden opportunity to have him sign a body part -- we even had a sharpie! we're shuffled out of the backstage area and into the venue with the rest of the rock peons.

but not all is lost. we have great seats in the center near the front and the first two bands, papa roach and buckcherry, totally rock it. nothing compares to the crüe though, they blow the roof off with pyrotechnics, flames, fireworks, ridiculous solos, tommy lee antics and everything i had ever dreamed a rock show would be. i screamed my voice away and shouted at the devil with all the angst and joy that had been almost 20 years in coming. thanks to tommy and the rest of the crüe for a kickass show, to my cousins steve and lisa for bringing me along, and to for crazy rob for making it happen.

for more on mötley crüe, i suggest nikki sixx's autobiographical heroin diaries, a wrenching, sometimes funny, always fascinating look into the year 1987 when sixx was battling his addiction demons on the girls, girls, girls tour with whitesnake and guns n roses. i picked this book up and then put it down a day later when i finished it. a must-read for anyone who loves rock n roll, drug memoirs, behind the music rockumentaries or believes that chicks=trouble.

toothlessness, homelessness

i had that nightmare again last night where my teeth are falling out. they crumble and fill up my mouth and i spit out heavy mouthfuls of crunchy goo. it's disturbing, to say the least. last night my reaction was: my mom is going to kill me if she sees that i've lost so many teeth.

the other constant theme in my anxiety dreams is housing: i'm with my college friends and am somehow unsettled with respect to my living situation. i arrive in a house to find that my room has been rented to someone else, or a door opens and i find room after room of people living comfortably and i am still displaced. i have this type of dream at least once a month.

i hesitate to ascribe too much meaning to these; it would be too easy to say that they signify uncertainty or transience or instability. just as easily they could signify regeneration or adventure. i do know that at this point i wake up feeling resigned -- oh, this again? -- and relieved. a full set of chompers and an apartment to call home.

but i just got carded the other day!

why is the sponsored link at the top of my gmail inbox for date a cougar dot com? (old ladies who are into young men)

should i be offended? what makes google think i'm an old lady, let alone a cougar?

america!

i am back in the homeland, and being struck by the very american-ish ways of this place.

for example: double bagging. why do we do this? the average bag of groceries is put immediately into a cart, wheeled into the parking lot, lifted into the suv then carried from the garage to the kitchen. why does this relatively smooth trip require such sturdiness of plastic?

yesterday as i spent $44 purchasing a couple of items the cashier was shocked, astounded when i refused the double bag. "i'm just going across the street," i tried to explain. this was apparently unprecedented.

when did this start? i have a feeling it happened within my lifetime, maybe in the mid-90s. perhaps it was a coup by the plastic industry, similar to the one pulled by alka-seltzer when they convinced the public to take two instead of one, thus doubling their sales.

the single bag is durable and sufficient, people. let's stop the madness.

vacation

a recipe for a great vacation in your own town:

5 free workdays
30 degrees (90F)
a hearty serving of motivation
a medium-length list of things to do
seasonal sales in your favorite stores
1 partner in crime

combine above items slowly, mixing and spreading them evenly in an unhurried fashion. sprinkle with coffees, lunches and dinners with friends, as available. season with ample sleep. don't be afraid to spend some money getting it all done. serve immediately. pairs well with tinto de verano, ice cream cones and siestas.

bon appetit!

vamos al final!

last night the spanish football team qualified for the finals of the 2008 eurocup, to be played sunday against germany. they beat russia in a 3-0 blowout to advance.

i'm not much of a soccer fan, but i do like big quick tournaments. this one lasts under a month from start to finish. i also like international competitions. in europe this happens all the time, but we americans like our sports confined to our stateside teams, occasionally letting canada play along. usually it's only during the olympic games that we get a chance to feel national pride for our athletes.

nothing beats being in a country whose team has just won a big match -- the excitement pours out from the houses and bars into the street: a palpable buzz that builds to a frenzy. flags are waved, crowds veer on becoming mobs, pure joy momentarily approaches complete chaos. last night horns were blaring and people were laughing and shouting in the street well into the night. and this was just the semifinal.

two years ago while watching the world cup, i remember watching the tv and hearing the rattle of the spanish announcers, seeing players running across the field, understanding very little. last night i noticed that just as words have emerged from the chatter and i can now follow the commentary, the movements on the field are also distilled, clearer. i see offense and defense, the strategy of certain plays, the advantages of certain players. i am becoming more fluent in this sport.

the moment your team qualifies for a final is a bittersweet one; you feel the unbridled release of accomplishment, yet you can't help but nervously anticipate the next game. i don't know enough about soccer to predict anything, but i'm told that germany is a tough team. i'm going to just be optimistic and believe those who tell me that just making it to the finals is good enough. we'll see on sunday.

the lightness of tech failure

my laptop has been on the brink for almost a year now. it functions for about ten minutes at a time, then needs a ten minute rest. forget streaming anything, photoshop, playing music or running more than one program at once. my patience has been tested to its utmost limits by this little machine -- i frequently dream of throwing it off my terrace. i think when i finally get a new one, i will reward myself by doing just that. it will feel so good.

today my external drive decided to join the rebellion. clicking and beeping, it gives me the finger while holding all my photos and music hostage. all my music? well, just what i have managed to collect since i last lost all my music in october. did i mention my digital camera is broken? my room, a frequent death zone for houseplants is now fatal for electronic devices as well. be warned cell phone. you're not that far away electric toothbrush. toaster, i would keep my distance.

somehow i am less devastated by the prospect of losing all this personal data...bits and bytes...than feels warranted. maybe the upside of having your photos and music stored digitally and so easily vanished is that they are not really irreplaceable in the way that a photo album or record collection is. i can get that music back. friends must have the photos stored elsewhere.

i like to travel light, to live light as well. i try to keep my possessions few; i like the idea of packing them all into a couple of suitcases and being mobile with all my belongings. i am constantly giving things away, paring down, never holding onto ticket stubs or trinkets for sentimental value, eliminating clutter. so maybe i need to live my digital life the same way: reduce my exposure. when i recover all my photos somehow, i need to just choose the best ones and store them online somewhere. something similar should happen with my music, although i'm not sure how that will work.

i need to travel lightly. i'll look at this now-useless beeping clicking box on my desk and remember to change my ways.

obama mundial

today thomas friedman writes in the new york times about egyptians' positive reaction to the election of obama as presidential candidate. this type of thing is a double-edged sword, making me smile and making me nervous at the same time. yes, friedman claims that egyptians "know...that if America — despite being attacked by muslim militants on 9/11 — were to elect as its president some guy with the middle name “hussein,” it would mark a sea change in america-muslim world relations." great. a sea change. let's hope.

but i can't help but worry that obama is viewed similarly within our own borders: as some guy with the middle name "hussein." i hate to distrust my fellow americans, but i know there are those who see acceptance of, even excitement about, obama in the middle east as a red flag.

i can say that from my corner of the world there is similar enthusiasm about obama. a student of mine said the other day "america is a great country. sometimes they make us hate them, but sometimes they do something that is inspiring to the rest of the world." a black person could never get elected in spain, or in most of europe for that matter. they will look at us and see that it is possible.

friedman voiced a similar sentiment: "But every once in a while, America does something so radical, so out of the ordinary...that it revives America’s revolutionary 'brand' overseas in a way that no diplomat could have designed or planned."people are impressed with us, that we elected a black man; and if we can successfully eject bush's party from the white house they'll be even more impressed.

i'm ready to be the type of america that impresses rather than disgusts people with our choices. although this american "brand" isn't something i believe in too strongly, it obviously carries weight in the world -- they are all following our election, after all. i would say that people, at least in spain, feel less hatred than disappointment in america. i would love nothing more than to begin to turn that around.

i better have a good book....

this is how i will get from madrid to new york

july 4 - madrid to pamplona via car, bus or train: 4 hours
july 4-7 - run with bulls in pamplona
july 7 - train from pamplona to hendaya: 2.5 hours
layover in hendaya: 1 hour
night train from hendaya to paris: 9 hours
july 8 - paris austerlitz to charles de gaulle airport via metro and train: 2 hours. please, no strikes!
paris to frankfurt: 1 hour
layover in frankfurt: 1.5 hours
flight to new york: 9 hours

total trip from pamplona to new york: 27 hours, 4 connections, wish me luck!!

i'm stimulated

just noticed the check for $300 in my bank account. thanks bush! i'm economically stimulated. unfortunately that money is already more than spent on plane tickets. what with oil going in one direction and the u.s. dollar going in the other, it's pricier than ever to maintain this lifestyle of mine.

i'm heading to the beach in an hour, currently attempting to pack with a hangover. my thoughts are a little muddled, as is my suitcase. here is some random shit:

i feel guilty about my teeth. i brush them twice a day with a sonicare but i don't floss too often. thousands upon thousands have been spent by my parents and me on these teeth. they are white and straight. i hate feeling guilty about it, it's so pointless and the guilt doesn't make me floss anyway so why bother?

i have been running around for the past few months and i have photos and stories to prove it. i want to show and tell, i really do. maybe after this weekend and the next one i'll spend some quality time with this blog.

did anyone besides emily and i watch paradise hotel? i'm kind of blase about the final four. would this show not be ten times more awesome if they threw some gay people into the mix? (besides ryan, mikey, james and raheim, that is). the only true love on this show is between the boys...

speaking of final four, go celtics! i know the buzz is that they won't make it past detroit, but i've got faith. i'm going to start watching games soon.

and speaking of season finales, i was slightly eh about gossip girl, although my boy chuck never disappoints me, ever ever. he is so my favorite it's not even funny. he wears that scarf during sex? could anything be more perfect?

reado-masochism

sky and i often talk about fighting off our tendencies to treat life like a series of to-do lists, checking things off as you do them. while i manage to consciously shake this off, i am sometimes derailed by a weekend full of social obligations, a pile of new yorkers or a full inbox. overwhelmed, i resort to efficiency mode.

during the year i spent traveling, checking my email was a powerful and intense moment of the day. a full inbox was a stressful delight: while i was happy to read every one of them, their number -- whether big or small -- their content, their injection of momentary homesickness, never failed to feel like a hugely important task to get through. click, read, respond, check!

nowadays that function is filled by google reader. as a daily practice i have it under control. but give me a couple of days with visitors, a weekend out of town, an especially busy week, and suddenly i have 148 items to read, 8 of which are new york times op-ed pieces, 25 of which are design posts, 10 of which are personal blogs and a bunch of other random stuff. stress. i stayed in tonight and i'm down to seven, but they are long ones. to-do list for tomorrow, check.

go celtics!

as you may have heard, i am a fan of the nfl. i like the low commitment required of a football fan: one day per week is just perfect for me. and i have a certain penchant for my hometown team, a ragtag group of guys called the new england patriots. i have been known to go on about how this team is not from boston, they represent a region comprised of six states. if you don't like boston or boston fans, fine. but what do you have against maine? or vermont?

this is all to say that i'm not exactly a die-hard fan of boston sports. to tell you the truth, sox fans annoy. and as much as i don't care about baseball, i consider myself more of a fan of oakland and even kansas city than boston. hockey-wise i'm a fan of new jersey, of all places. what can i say, cool uniforms.

but when it comes to basketball, i'm a celtics fan through and through. when i was a kid and the celtics were winning titles, my dad and i would watch those games on the edges of our seats, ordering them to give the ball to bird already. similarly i hate the lakers. i don't care who their coach is or which spaniard is now on their team; i just hate them, they are the enemy.

although i don't follow basketball, i've always said that if the celtics are doing well in the playoffs i'll be watching. and this year we have the treat of the celts and the lakers in the number one positions in the east and the west. i'm ready for an 80s rehash, who's with me?

P - portugal is so much fun!

during the easter holiday i went to portugal with some friends. we rented a rural cottage on a 170-acre village in the alentejo region. the property was breathtaking: unspoiled views of vineyards, sculptured gardens and rolling countryside, walking paths, pools, lemon trees, and a professional-sized trampoline! check it out...

prescription drugs

i asked the doctor for strong medicine to cure my ills before my trip this weekend, but damn. this is my first go-round with 3-day antibiotics and they are funner than four glasses of manichewitz. i'm literally almost tripping, hallucinating slightly, and in general bouncing off the walls.

i think there's crack in my dolls. DOLLS!

on the upside, i'm clearly on the mend.

past prime

yesterday i turned 31. leading up to this birthday i was telling people that i was "entering my prime," exposing my true colors as a witty math nerd (get it? 31 is a prime number! chuckle, chuckle).

anyway, yesterday i felt less than prime. yesterday sucked. between the rain and a fever and having to cancel my fancy dinner party due to sickness, between emotion brought on by either the birthday or the fever i was a hot tranny mess. crying, illing, barely dragging my sorry ass around in the rain and crying some more. happy birthday to me!

but, things turned around, albeit slightly. i want to give two big shout-outs to those that helped turn the tide.

first, thanks to paul for stopping by with a hug and some lovely gifts. i think i needed the hug more than anything. sometimes i don't know how to ask for what i need, so thanks for figuring it out.

second, thanks to the spanish national health service for hooking me up. i was in and out of both the doctor and the pharmacy in a grand total of 3o minutes yesterday with 3 prescriptions all for the bargain price of under 7 euros. nothing but smiley helpful service, to boot. what's wrong with america?

and additional shout-outs to all my friends and family who sent cards, called, emailed, texted, IMed, facebook wall posted, e-carded and even to those who didn't. your love is felt so strongly over distances large and small. thank you so much.

well, i have no good excuse for my silence around here, but as soon as i get back from the alps this weekend darlings i will be sure to post more. coming soon: photos -- and videos! -- from my trip to portugal, preview above.

undocumented

it was with bittersweet resignation that i passed in my battered old passport at the u.s. consulate last week for renewal. on the one hand, i was more than a little sick of looking at the horrendous results of my decision in 1998 -- deep into my college hippie phase -- to not bother showering before having a photograph taken that i would be looking at frequently over the next ten years. yet what ten years those were. that passport was with me for most of the defining moments of my twenties; it helped me define myself.

i remember taking that grungy photo in hanover, before tami and i went backpacking around europe after junior year of college. the first stamp was at gatwick airport and there are a good collection of european stamps from back when they did that kind of thing. it came with me on my globetrotting early retirement year of 2001-2002 where it was filled up with page-filling asian visas and stamps i accrued walking through rainy border towns in central america. it was in costa rica that i maxed it out, and proudly marched down to a consulate for some extra pages.

the latest group of stamps has been mostly banal: from airports in the u.s. and madrid. combined with a noticable lack of working visa, these present a tell-tale history of my illegal status in spain. luckily these clues are hidden like needles in the haystack of my colorful and exotically-stamped passport so nobody seems to notice.

all i have left from the little book is a set of photographs i took of its pages, which became the banner for my webzine nothing to declare. and now i sit and wait for the new one to arrive: blank pages, ten more years, a challenge to fill up those pages.

well, i have a few stamps coming up for it. i've been on a flight-buying and trip-planning rampage. portugal in a few weeks for easter. back to the alps two weeks after that. morocco with michael at the end of april. barcelona with sky in may. and all while sporting a shiny new blue book with a vastly-improved photograph inside.

i'm still here

oops, haven't been around here lately. can i blame the doldrums of late february-early march city living? not exactly, because the weather has been unseasonably warm. how about my well-documented bumpy landings after returning from the u.s.? ok, but it's march! i don't know, the culprit is probably just laziness.

so what's been new with me? brace yourself....i've been knitting alot. knitting is a winter hobby for me and lately i've been churning out armwarmers like nobody's biznatch. oh, and reading. yeah, finally finished pollen's omnivore's dilemma -- totally recommended -- and now i'm burning through great fortune about the development and construction of rockefeller center, also a great read (thanks dad!).

around the internet i've been reading this:

• new york times: this article inspired my column idea for nothing to declare (coming soon!) and this makes me sick. every so often there is an article putting the cost of the war in perspective which i read with morbid fascination.
• i know everybody read about this last week, but i never claimed to be on time around here, did i? anyway, holy crikey! and, a year of prison is more expensive than a year of dartmouth? did anybody else find this startling?
  
• this little easily-missed article was the best thing about the new yorker's anniversary issue, in my opinion. praising philippe de montebello's work as director of the met, it goes further to investigate why some museum experiences feel so good while others render you a pawn of the unseen deciders of the art world; it also explains perfectly what i have struggled to put into words about my disappointment with the moma expansion.

ok. so. reading, knitting. my life is boring. maybe that's why i haven't been blogging?

the alps, darling

i just returned from a weekend skiing in the french alps with my friend john, who is a pisteur or patroller at chamonix. i hadn't skied in five years, so was a little nervous but ended up having an amazing time. although now my body hurts. nothing a shiatsu can't fix.

i've done the majority of my skiing in new england where the weather is cold, the trails cut down into thick forest and the verticals aren't anything to write home about. the alps are completely different -- there are no trails whatsoever except groomed bits that weave through the open snowfields. you can ski wherever you want -- even a closed section is yours to explore if you dare. another thing we lack in the east is powder; what they call "packed powder" is usually crusty manmade snow that gets skied off by the early afternoon. in chamonix although it hadn't snowed in days, the mountains were covered by fluffy bumps, making adventurousness an easier prospect. you are sure to fall, but it doesn't hurt.

my third day we skied the valle blanche, which is a glacier that comes down the side of mont blanc, the highest mountain in europe. this required no less than crampons and ropes but was the most backcountry terrain i've ever done. glaciers rose up on all sides to rocky peaks -- a larger-than-life landscape that resembled a postcard. i could hardly believe i was in it, let alone skiing down.

it seemed like everyone i met was over-the-top adventurous. if they weren't biking across south america with a parasail attached to their back they were scaling some ridiculous peak to ski down the other side. this makes me want to be more of a daredevil too. note to self: have more adventures. of the outdoor kind. i'm open to suggestions.

dream diary

my dream last night: i'm at a party at my mom's friend's house. at the party are some college friends, some madrid friends, a random assortment of people. so i'm walking around the party naked because of course. not only that, my teeth are falling out. actually, i was holding my earrings in my mouth and swallowed them by accident, and while trying to spit them out all my teeth were coming out with them.

i feel like my dream is a high school student's psych paper. kinda trite, no?

life #6

over a year ago i wrote a post about my swiss army knife, detailing its long history of disappearing and reappearing in my life. well, not long after i wrote that, sometime last spring actually, i realized that i hadn't seen the thing in a while. i wasn't too worried, trusting implicitly that it would turn up somewhere -- it always had in the past.

the first doubts surfaced when i was packing my room up before leaving for the states last summer. i was going through all my stuff, thowing things away, trying to keep possessions to a minimum as usual, expecting to find it in the back of a drawer or in the medecine cabinet or something. but no such luck. in august when i was getting ready for the camino, i sadly shopped for leathermans at rei, unable to buy one and admit that the knife might actually be gone this time.

when i moved back into my room i thought: "this is the last chance. if i don't find it now, it's gone." and sure enough, there was no sign of my friendly little gadget.

until a few days ago. suddenly inspired to pick up my winter habit of knitting i dumped my knitting bag all over my bed and there...there it was. of course. i use the scissors to cut yarn and the hook makes a great crochet hook in a pinch. and i haven't touched my knitting since last winter, even during the packing and unpacking.

so we are reunited, again! i'm wrestling with disbelief while simultaneously chiding myself for having so little faith. it was gone for almost a year though; this is its second-longest disappearing stint ever! it occurs to me that perhaps i'm subconsciously always "losing" the knife by trying to get on airplanes with it and not being able to find it in my damn bedroom because i enjoy this little ruse. but i dont think so, because you know what i enjoy even more? using the knife!

hooray! it's back! never leave me again!