my love is a liquid

Today I was taking the 5 home, listening to Gary Numan’s Tubeway Army. In the song ‘My Love is a Liquid,’ I am always struck by the line, ‘I could talk to me for years, I can’t speak to you at all.’ I think I’m going to start every entry now with a quote from Gary Numan, until I run out.

I am well. Florence came back today; she had been gone for about ten days. In the kitchen, she explained to Sebastian and me that she’s been very sick, and where she was she couldn’t get in touch with us. She explained that her skin and eyes are reacting very strongly to the sunlight, and that in general she’s not doing very well. It was awkward. All I could really say was sorry. Maybe Florence and I are like the twins played by Jeremy Irons in Dead Ringers, where if one is doing well, the other is doing badly. But if I remember correctly, it gets pretty ugly for the both of them by the end.

Tonight I went to see Roman Holliday in the 5e. I really enjoyed it, and I was reminded how much I like Audrey Hepburn. I think I like her the best in Sabrina, before she goes to Paris, but she was looking pretty good in this one, too, especially after she gets her hair cut.

when's the cut off?

Yesterday I saw Watchmen with Jared and Sebastion. The theme of the movie seems to be: you have to break some eggs to make an omelet. I wasn't thrilled by it. The movie finished at around midnight, and when I got out I saw that I had a text from a friend from an hour or two earlier while I was still in the theater. I called her back, and the call woke her up. I felt very bad.

When's the cut off time for college students? I always thought there wasn't one, because I just turn off my cell phone or put it on silent when I go to bed; the alarm will still sound in the morning. Jared informed me that not all phones do this, and that you have to leave them on (this would explain why I've woke Jared up several times in the morning--I always thought he left his phone on because he was neurotic about missing calls, but actually he has no choice if he wants to have an alarm).

;lskdjfsd

Today I met Katrin at St. Michel and we walked next to the Seine and around the Jardin des Plantes. I was reminded of the scene from La Jetée, but I didn’t say anything.

Later, I went to see The International at the MK2 Biblioteque. I really enjoy seeing international motherfuckers fight against the evils of globalization.

After dinner I met Jared for a drink at the Motel. We talked to the bartender for a while. He’s a good guy. He gave us each a shot for free before we left. On the way home, I debated over how I should spend the rest of my evening. I have not been productive as far as school work goes, so I said to myself, I should just stay up later than usual and watch Sans Soleil—I have to do a sequence analysis for it that is due Tuesday. Finally, though, I decided that I would just work on it tomorrow instead and get to bed earlier.

When I got back home I felt hungry and decided to make myself a sandwich. At first, actually, I was just going to eat a piece of toast with cheese, but I decided to go all out. Something about making this sandwich inspired me anew to just stay up and work more.

However, as I ate the sandwich, which was good, something about it made me decide that it’d be better to put off the work. Now I’m writing in my blog and talking with people on facebook instead.

safe

Lately I’ve been noticing how often my nose runs and I have to use a tissue. I’ve always had to use a lot of tissues, that’s no surprise, but I’ve never paid much attention to what seems to trigger it. It seems like anything can trigger it. I eat an orange, and I need to use one. I cook dinner, and I need to use one. I go to the bathroom, and I need to use one. I eat a sandwich, go outside, brush my teeth, wash my face, watch a movie, smoke a cigarette, etc, and I need to use one. Maybe I’m just allergic to the modern world, like Julianne Moore in Safe.

Last Wednesday I went out to dinner with the bros for my birthday. We sat next to three friendly Italians. They bought us drinks at the end and the whole table sang happy birthday. I felt appreciated. It was a damn good night, in fact the whole day was pretty solid.

On Friday I went to another party with Swedes, although this one was smaller than the first one. The Swedes are probably our only real European friends. I really talked up my blog, and I said that Ingmar Bergman was too metaphysical and that I never liked him very much. They didn’t take that too well, but I stood my ground. Azeaza (forgive me if the spelling is incorrect) said that some of them thought I was a little obnoxious. I think they took me too seriously, especially when I was talking about my blog. I thought it was amusing, though, that they did think of me that way.

Last night, Jackie, Amanda, Nicola, and Maddie treated me for Thai food in the 13e. I really appreciated it. I also appreciated the card they gave me, which they wrote together when they were drunk, by each writing a line and then passing it to the next person. I feel oddly compelled to read it very closely, to see if I can glean some insight.

shit happens

On Thursday, I attempted to get up early enough to take a run before class, but I was still about 15 minutes late, though part of this was due to the metro running slow. As I was waiting for the 8 at Bastille, an attractive woman approached me as if she knew me, and I thought, what attractive French women do I know? I quickly realized that it was actually Nicola, and I had a pleasant conversation with her the rest of the way to Bonne Nouvelle. I asked her if she was ambitious, and she said she was, but quietly.

Saturday was good, with some qualifications. I saw Manhattan at the Action Ecoles with Jared and then afterwards we got sandwiches nearby. We were talking about our difficulties with women, and I made analogies about dealing with lower back pain. One of my favorite Japanese movies, Cure, was showing in Montparnasse so we walked over there and had a drink and then saw that. Jared got really into it, and that pleased me. It was bromantic.

Jackie and Maddie convinced me to go to this club near Belleville, so after the movie I met them there. In line, I ran into John and his Polish friend Anaya. They’re good people. When I saw Anaya, I said to myself, this is Maddie’s kind of girl. Unfortunately, while we were in line, a lot of money was stolen from my wallet. I don’t want to say how much, because I feel stupid about carrying that much with me.

After this, still waiting to get in, I saw Amanda and Nicola. I waited in a lot of lines Saturday night. It seems like that is a big part of what clubbing entails: waiting to get in, waiting for bartenders, waiting for the bathroom. Anyway, these two helped cheer me up. I said to them, shit happens. They agreed. We talked about whether it was acceptable for us to hang out independent of Jackie, for instance if Jackie weren’t around. It was something that was on all of our minds. I think we agreed that we could, but I’m still not really sure. Nicola mentioned that she had been thinking about my question that I asked her on Thursday, about being ambitious. It was nice to see that what I say is reflected on after the moment has passed. She said that she realized that she wanted to somehow give birth to the next Christ, or have a virgin birth, something along those lines, my memory is a little cloudy. The gist seemed to be that she wanted to have a kid. I said I did too, and that her kid will be the next Christ, and mine will have mental health problems. They decided to peace, which was a shame.

Inside, I introduced Maddie to Anaya, and I think my intuition was right. I felt good about that. It was a gay theme that night, and I could feel all those mens’ eyes on me. I’m half serious when I say that. I spent most of the night talking to Maddie’s friend Molly, who was visiting Paris for spring break. I can’t think of a good adjective to use, but I liked her.

Steve Fertal V

The other day I went to see Max Ophüls’ Madame De…. I understood the basic plot, but without subtitles, I couldn’t pick up the subtleties of the film’s comedic moments. Afterwards I met Jared for a drink. He told me things about Nietzsche. When we went outside to smoke a cigarette, I looked down at the curb and noticed all of the butts.

I was reminded of my old friend Steve Fertal V from middle school. (Of course we didn’t actually refer to him as ‘Steve Fertal the fifth,’ but in the year book his name was written this way, and when I asked him about it, he informed me that in fact he was the fifth Steven Fertal). When Steve and I and the rest of his unsavory crew used to walk home from school, we would stop by at this office building and look for smokable cigarette butts in the ash tray outside. We didn’t know anyone over eighteen, and asking people outside of gas stations always felt uncomfortable, so it was the best we could do. Unless of course Steve’s little brother Jared, who probably warrants his own entry, stole us cartons from Sim’s (where I worked all throughout high school). He would go in there, quickly get behind the ice cream freezers where the cartons where, and grab one or two and hide them in his big coat. Then we were set for a while. I remember many nights sleeping over at Steve’s house, which was only a block away, staying up smoking these cigarettes and drinking cans of A-Treat cream soda.

Steve was the local badass, at least among kids his age. I think maybe Ricky Murphy was the senior bad ass because he was older. He was 4 years older than us, my sister’s age. When I was just a toddler and my sister was five or six, she and Ricky Murphy used to collect cigarette butts at Fairview Park across the street from our house. Cigarette butts seem to be a theme of this entry. I also remember Ronnie Gaffney and Josh Weaver, and Johnny. I don’t remember Johnny’s last name.

Frequently, the police where at Steve’s house, either because of something Steve did, or because of something his brother Jared did. On the surface perhaps, Steve was just a typical neighborhood menace of sorts, getting into fights, smoking cigarettes, and in general sticking it to the man. When I first got to middle school, I was vaguely aware of him, and probably vaguely frightened of him, too. As it turns out, he was in my homeroom, because although he was a year older than me (exactly a year older, in fact), he had to repeat the sixth grade due to failing grades. So we made friends, and I was quasi-integrated into his crew, although mostly I just hung out with him.

Steve had a dynamic and precocious personality. Although he was small kid, relatively diminutive in stature, he was nonetheless incredibly cocky about his fighting prowess and his general street cred. He was also somewhat of a ladies’ man, at least among 12 to 14 year olds. He was not a stupid kid, either, and I really believe that he had a more sensitive and articulate side that in different circumstances might’ve flourished. In fact, I remember times when he got really frustrated with the idiocy of his other street friends. He probably was drawn to me because I was more cerebral, or at any rate less likely to want to do things that would get us in trouble with the police. In addition to the kinds of things he did with his unsavory crew, Steve also did things like read books, play computer games obsessively, play Magic the Gathering and D&D, and watch Charlie Chaplin movies (when I think about it now, it seems kind of odd for anyone that age to watch Chaplin).

In other words, he was an interesting mixture of qualities. He had a distinct, confident way of speaking, and he often introduced phrases with ‘in all honesty,’ which meant, my friend Jeff and I noted, that whatever he was going to say would be total bull shit. Two proclamations he made that I remember were, ‘Ninety percent of all Afghans are terrorists,’ and ‘calculators are smarter than people.’ Steve’s dad also made proclamations like these, such as ‘nine out of ten people abused animals when they were young.’ That one really stuck with me.

Well, I suppose I drifted apart with Steve after his parents separated and he moved to Allentown. After that, I only heard stories of him getting into trouble and being kicked out of different relatives’ houses who agreed to let him stay with them. That last time I saw him was my freshman year at high school, after that I think he dropped out. I heard rumors of him from my old friend Jeff, who allowed him to stay at his place briefly, although I think that ended badly. Just yesterday I searched fbook to see if Steve was on it, but to no avail. Now I’m trying to get in touch with Jeff, who also could be anywhere, to see if there is any news of Steve Fertal V.

Steve is somewhat emblematic of the fate of many of my old friends from middle school, although he is probably the most interesting, with the exception of my friend Nick Rohoman, who much more than Steve actually meant something to me. I could probably write entries about several of these people, but the truth is I don’t even know why I’m writing this one.

I’ve been recovering from my recent slump into malaise and listlessness. Alternately, Florence is deteriorating. She told me the other day that she has a serious health problem, I didn’t dare to ask what. The heat hasn’t been working for the past week (this was probably my fault, but that’s another story), although today it was fixed. Two outlets in my room still don’t work, but in addition to that Florence found out that there’s no electricity in her office. Almost every day I hear her moaning and groaning, either to herself or to someone on the phone.

electricity

Ever since I got back from the UK I've felt vaguely out of sorts, and this feeling is slowly turning into a keen sense of malaise. Today after my film class we got coffee with the professor. As he was talking to us, my mind drifted and I thought, someone ought to walk up to me and punch me in the face.

A moment ago, I tried to plug in an American power strip. It made a loud noise and now the outlet by my desk doesn’t work. Florence isn’t here right now because ‘je ne peux plus le supporter. Je vais devenir folle.’ I think she’s slowly, or not so slowly, going crazy. Somehow, the idea of telling her about the outlet when she comes back seems like a big mistake.

athletics

My last evening in Edinburgh I went out with Dave and Christoph to a pub that had some live music. That area of the bar was too crowded, though, so I didn’t hear much of it. Instead, we sat in the back. When I came back with my second beer, there was a group of people standing around this trivia game. The three of us watched attentively. The guy who was playing was doing pretty well. At one point, the question was something like, “Norway is known for what sport: A) Cricket B) Football C) Athletics.”

When Dave and I saw the option, ‘Athletics,’ we lost it. The guy took our laughing as a sign that we knew ‘Athletics’ was the answer, so he selected that one, but it was wrong. To us, it made perfect sense that ‘athletics’ was wrong.

Of course, now I know that ‘athletics’ refers to track & field. But at the time, I think I laughed the hardest I’d laughed all week.