adventures in northampton

Last night I went to Northampton again to go to a birthday party above Pop’s liquor store. First I drank beers at Dave & Paolo’s place. I felt tired and listless and a little indifferent towards the evening. My hernia was causing me some pain because I’d been running too hard. We sat around on the porch and told jokes; I told the one about the three men on the beach and the brick they throw up in the air, and Paolo told the one about the old woman and her parrot and the businessman and his cigar on the airplane. Beryl couldn’t keep her mouth shut though and she ruined the whole damn thing.

At the party I felt cerebral. Again my hernia was bothering me. Finally I had to lie down on the dirty bathroom floor to make it feel better while Dave stood outside and made sure no one walked in. When I got back out I started to wonder if I could dance and make people believe that I was actually having fun. I approached two girls that were dancing together next to Jackie and Dave and asked them if they were convinced that I was enjoying myself. They said yes but that I should move my arms more and make other gestures. Pretty soon I got bored so I walked home. I’ve had worse nights.

Hugo's

On Friday night Dave and I went to a bar called Hugo’s in Northampton that our friend Ella suggested to us. It’s kind of a dive, but not like the dive bars in Bethlehem. We ordered a beer and played pool. I won pretty easily. A guy put money down on the table to claim the next game and I realized that his friend is the guy that works at Sam’s pizza on Main Street. You’re the guy from Sam’s pizza, I said. We were just talking about that, he exclaimed. He’s the kind of guy that exclaims, not says. He is very friendly. In his role at Sam’s he brings a little too much personality to his job and it can be annoying. But at Hugo’s it was amusing. We asked where we could get pizza and he said that everywhere was closed, but he had some slices with him from Sam’s; he had just closed the place. We said we’d by them. First he wanted us to buy him two beers, but I brought him down to $4 for two slices. He told us that he had been an art student, then for whatever reason he started working at Hugo’s and then he got into ‘the doorman scene,’ whatever that means, and now he finds himself working at Sam’s. I asked him and his friend if I could bum a cigarette; his friend gave me two and told me to give the other one to a lady. I did go outside and smoke one of them, but there weren’t any ladies to give the other one to.

september issues

This morning I went on a nice long run in the rain and as usual reflected about the serious things. I didn’t figure anything out. Maybe tomorrow.

This afternoon I went downstairs and soft-boiled an egg. While waiting for the water to heat up I smoked a cigarette with Ezra out on the balcony in the rain. We surveyed the faux urban landscape of prescott. It seemed slimy and dirty.

This evening I was feeling gloomy so I decided to go with Perrie, Sibba, and Beryl to see a movie, The September Issue. I don’t know why the hell I did that, because I feel more depressed now than I did before.

Oh yeah. My contemporary French film series is starting next weekend. Sunday @ 7 in the evening in the new film & photo building. The film is Coup de torchon. Come. You’ll make me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.

trouble every day

So it’s been a while since I last updated. The sentiment I experienced when I did sound for that intro talk has waxed and waned. I’ve been going on nice, long runs, where I reflect about the serious things. Unfortunately, however, I found out that I have a hernia, and that renders exercising problematic. Initially I thought it was something I should be embarrassed about, as if it was something I caused through lifting improperly or some shit like that. The doctor tells me, however, that it was probably there since birth, and that it gradually got worse throughout my life. I guess I just live too hard in general. It’s sort of like driving a car that makes a weird noise; you know something isn’t right, but the thing still works…yet there is the sentiment in the back of your mind that it could break down at any moment.

I went to see Coppola’s new movie, Tetro, the other day. Though not perfect, I enjoyed the experience. Coppola is inspired by several different looks from the history of cinema, but it wasn’t too much of a quotation, if you know what I mean. One thing was a bit odd: whenever Vincent Gallo kissed his girlfriend in the movie, I thought about his role in Claire Denis’ Trouble Every Day. I expected the girl to start screaming from the pain of him ripping out her tongue with his teeth, and then him to pull away with a blood all over his face and lips—which is what he does in Denis’ film.

adventures at mt. holyoke college

I went to Mt. Holyoke college today, the distant land of my ex-girlfriend, for the first session of a class I’m going to take there. I came early to talk with my old elementary French professor, and I was there over the lunch hour so I ate at their campus center. I found myself in a contemplative mood, ruminating over the past. I was also reminded of how strange some Mt. Holyoke students are.

At one point, I returned from checking to see if my food was ready to find a girl I didn’t know sitting at my table. She hadn’t noticed my book bag under the chair, apparently. I didn’t really know what to do, so I just said that I had been there first, but that she could stay if she wanted. She left for some reason, but her stuff was still there, and I noticed that she had horse back riding gear—something which I regard with a great deal of suspicion. She didn’t return throughout the whole time I ate, and I wondered if maybe she found the situation too awkward to sit there with me, or something like that. Some MHC students are very awkward and socially sensitive. I was relieved; what the hell do I have to say anyway? Well, I sat there and ate; the only interruption was that another MHC student I know from Middlebury saw me and we said hello. Then I left and went to class.

welcome back

I’ve found myself at Hampshire for the past week or so, acting as ‘orientation staff,’ working with media services to do the sound for the various orientation activities that require a P.A system. I happened to be working during the talk for all of the new students and parents that are on campus that the president and some other staff do the very day that new students arrive. It was the fourth time I’ve heard this talk, because I was once a first year, and after that an orientation leader my second and third year.

I’ve been in generally good spirits, but the feeling of depression, malaise, and distaste that this talk aroused in me was…acute. The optimism and the energy struck me as artificial and irritating. The director of admissions always has a bit that she does, which has been the same every year: she talks about the unique qualities of the incoming class, based on interesting things she read or heard about in the applications. It’s the same basic thing every time, with a bit of variation (something that is also true of the new students…). This year, I remember two of them. For the first, she quoted from the student’s application essay, which was a sort of metaphor, a double entendre that suggested the student’s love of Hampshire was something more than intellectual. It was a amusing ‘love letter’ that he wrote addressed to the school. I admit that it was clever (though histrionic). But I couldn’t help but ask my self, ‘how the fuck can someone care about Hampshire that much?’ Even before I started here, I wasn’t nearly that enthusiastic. Well, I see disappointment in his future.

The second student that she talked about was one who was a fixed gear bike mechanic, or some shit like that. That brought up certain associations. At any rate, the point is that I’ve found something new that evokes a sentiment of malaise in me that I can blog about.

the knife

Last night I watched J.S.A (joint security area) by Chan Wook-Park (Old Boy) and drank beers with Ezra, though Ezra was lame and left halfway through to go to bed. Then Nicole, an R.A from the building next to us who is friends with the third years in this mod (and now me I guess), came by because she was bored. First she went over and talked to Carl in his room, than she sat down to watch part of the movie. For some reason the role I was playing just then—that is to say a guy drinking beer and watching a Korean movie by himself benevolently conversing with a visitor—was pleasing to me.

Later I was waiting for Carl outside so we could go see some people in mod 17, when a small group of second years called out to me and invited me to join them for a smoke. One of them was in my orientation group last year. Carl and I decided to join them. As we were sitting and talking, one of the girls got up to make some food, and she started to talk about the knife she was using with one of the other girls. I think they were resuming an earlier conversation. She said the knife was wonderful, and that when cutting onions her eyes didn’t tear up. I demanded a scientific explanation for this. She explained to all of us that the blade was so thin, it could cut between the cell walls or membranes. I said that cells are microscopic, so that would probably mean that the blade would have to be microscopic, and therefore invisible. An invisible knife might be dangerous, I said.

Well, I tried the knife, and it was a lot of un. Clearly, it was a good knife.