The Realest Streets

It's crazy how inspiring not having class can be.

I'm tearing through Extrememly Loud & Incredibly Close, I'm working out for hours each day, and I'm seeing so much of this sprawling madness town. I feel weirded out not having a bike, and walking on flat ground, and today I realized when I was leaving the park I was walking really fast, like being chased fast, I think in an effort to mimic a bicycle. Ha!

I should probably set some goals for myself, like get a 6-pack, but there are more important things than hot bods, like hot minds. So yeah, one goal is to expand my mind and dig deep into these streets.

Noise Annoys

I just watched the effing cutest film by Sam Taylor-Wood @ 1001 called Love You More

I don't want to give it away, let's just say boy-virginity, Buzzcocks, hilarity! It was touching, really.

But yeah, it was really quite alright to just hang around on the floor, and on couches watching short films by Brits. And it's a weekly thing which I'm so glad to have found out about. That's Monday sorted.

Sunshine Lovely

Welly welly well.

Today was my first Monday without class, and let me tell you, it was fabulous. I walked to Hyde Park then walked around the park looking for the right spot to settle in. Then I read more of Extrememly Loud & Incredibly Close, which has sucked me in. It makes me so uncomfortable but in a necessary way, and now I know I have to finish it within the next 2 days. So that's fine. Anyway, I also bought sunglasses today on the way to the park, a detour, but they're my traveling sunglasses, you know.

Traveling!! I cannot wait to execute my Amsterdam plus Tour de France plus probably Geneva. Alas. But until then, I'm just learning my Russian vocabulary and getting super excited for when Koko!!!! my love, comes to visit me. Spring is life.

And now I'm going to a short film screening on Brick Lane. This is magic.

SENIOR!

Et voila, no more class until August.

So I'm sitting here at 9 am, listening to Beat Happening and drinking OJ in my bed without pants on.

I'm a senior again...let the apathy take hold.

Working My Core

And writing my essays, and doing it to it.

Never felt more extreme, but it's good.

It builds character, and it builds abs.

Secret

Went to a record label party at a secret location in Whitechapel and danced my ass off until the apartment owners had to go to bed in the morning. I met some lovely DJs, including Jane Fitz--girl power!--who has been a resident DJ in Hong Kong for years and is so admirable and kind.

Talked about the Ottoman Empire w/ Okan, the Turk, and once the high school kids bounced everything was quite fun. Johanna left soon after we got there because it was weird with them around, but as the night wore on the crowd grew older and more chill.

I also met a girl who went to school in Pittsburgh! And the most adorable Irish girl (also suffering from babyface syndrome), 2 Russian girls and a gay? Bulgarian bartender. These people were so educated and interested, lots of engrossing convo so I was happy. Also, I don't think I've danced for so long consecutively ever. It feels good to shake it out.

Brass Tacks

Dear ______,

You're the better person, and I'm sorry.

2 Weeks Left

I can feel myself shrinking.

Where Fabulous Lives

I'm conceptualizing a line of lingerie, evening wear, and otherwise sensual fabric creations.

So for inspiration I'm going to take myself and my sketchbook on a date to Victoria and Albert Museum to check out the Magnificence of the Tsars exhibit and the jewelry and fashion and accessories galleries. I'm salivating. I will soon be in the presence of these:

Vivienne Westwood c. 1993

Knuck If You Buck

I did a brave, brave thing.

I went out by myself. All by my lonely. To Cafe 1001.

And had a gay ole time.

"You got the moves." -rando Indian dude

"I couldn't stop watching you." -Sailor, Spanish girl. (Me: Like Sailor Moon??)

Before we all get the wrong idea, let me remind you that I was flopping around, almost literally, because drum and bass promotes that kind of movement. I was soaked after less than an hour of dancing. And duh, I can Crip Walk, because I'm from Cali.

Don't get it twisted.

So in the end going out alone was hella fun. The only people I would have liked to be there were Rex and Netta because D&B is a sensitive genre and most people would be turned off right away, unless they had their own "internal groove". Ha. Good night.

2+2=4

So Vladimir Putin and Dmitri Medvedev had a late night one night, and they fell asleep in the Kremlin. The next day they woke up and Medvedev goes,

"Vladimir Vladimirovich, I want to make sure of something."

And Putin says, "What? Tell me, Dima."

And Medvedev asks, "2 plus 2, that equals 4, right?"

To which Putin responds, "Right, Dima. 3 for me, and 1 for you."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Freelance Gynecology

Pats on back:

I made brussel sprouts for the 1st time in my life today! They were good. And they're invited to my eat-darker-green-things diet.

Today at school a female taxi driver (the first I've ever seen) let me cross in front of her car, then she went down a one-lane road and found herself blocked by a male taxi-driver and then a line of cars. I'm not sure who got there first, but I stopped to see who would back down. She refused. It was freaking awesome to watch 5 or so cars reverse and pull over to let her by.

Gon' head girl!

I made a funny/gross (surprise):

Girl: So what do you do?
Boy: I'm a FREELANCE GYNECOLOGIST.*
Girl: Um..
Boy: And I think it's time for the breast exam!

*SLAP*



*for my gays, "freelance proctologist"

Drink More Coffee

because I took a 30-minute nap in the Junior Common Room and had a nightmare (yes, at 1:30) during which I was driving a huge van home (to my parents' house) but instead the road led to a Wal-Mart where I ran into a pyramid of blue and white crates, killing (I presume) 2 fat women in the process. One of them screamed, but not like you'd scream if you really got pinned between a huge van and Wal-Mart crates.

Point: drink more coffee.

Action!

This was a weekend of extremes.




The Le Corbusier exhibit at the Barbican Gallery was EXTREMELY thorough and inspiring and it made me miss Pittsburgh and my archie droogs so much. A lot of the pieces were on loan from Fondation Le Corbusier and they included postcards to his friends, sketches, plans, scale models, drawings, furniture, built art, paintings, and best part was that everything was in French so I had a little ticklish moment in the museum. Makes me yearn for Paris again, as does a certain message from a special friend. It was super cool to see how Le Corbusier translated his appreciation for utopian socialism into his design for the Centrosoyuz headquarters in Moscow, a design that was realized in 1928. All in all I kept making sex sounds because his works were so damn sensual and trippy and it was a mindgasm.

And the area where the Barbican Gallery is, in proper London, is SO WEIRD. It's like being in 1984, the book. Or the Soviet Union.

Then that night I shelled out 7 quid to see where the least attractive people in all of London (&maybe all of Great Britain) rub up on each other, where balding businessmen go to score poon. So gross. But I'm probably going to back there in May to see Clem Snide, so...

Anyway that was a bust, but Saturday was much better. First I met Lydia, Sarah, and Johanna at Broadway Market in Bethnal Green, a place I would not want to be alone at night. But I realized I like rundown sort of shady areas during the day because there are certain lonely elements that make for interesting images, such as:

After Broadway Market I went with Sarah and Jo to Primark at Oxford Circus. Big mistake. Worst timing ever; the place was like if H&M and Forever 21 did meth and got into a catfight. Nothing short of hell on earth. My anxious mess left after about 10 minutes.

Then in the evening we were invited to Martin/Anders's place for drinks, an outing (inning?) which inevitably finds us still at their apartment when the sun's coming up, Martin turning to me and asking, "Sooo what should we do? Should we go out? Get some bears?" This time the Norwegians were actually outnumbered! I met a Frenchman named Basil who said I had a great accent (merci) and an Italian named Mateo who actually had an American accent and was so typically Italian. As in, contentious, pompous, emotional, etc. However, he was a great singer and gave Martin a boygasm with his guitar playing. At 5 a.m. I ate a ton of egg whites and tried to make people jealous, but no one was really interested in the egg whites, just me.

Woke up at 1 to a text from Sarah so I met her on Brick Lane, where we accidentally went into a supersized opium den/coffeshop/bar. We ate burgers and lounged on the couches while the DJ played reggae and dancehall tunes from Jamaica. The event is formally called 100% Dynamite and the place, Cafe 1001.
After a while we got depressed from looking at all the gorgeous men and their slightly less gorgeous girlfriends. Makes me hate London a little bit and worry about how I'd make friends if I came back here to live/work. Oi vey.


Somehow I managed to exhaust every second of this weekend doing something enlightening or funny or just stupid, so London, cheers.

Note to self:
-Write this story
*Mistaken for something of monetary value, a suitcase full of film reels gets stolen from a departing film crew in Morocco. Filmmaker(s) return to try and get it back. Adventure!

PBJ

So last night was Peter, Bjorn, and Johnny. Punny!

We saw PBJ @ Scala in King's Cross, which is far less well-kept than the name would let on. I stepped in vomit. Then a scalper made fun of us for drinking an unlabeled bottle of cider across the street from Scala. One self-deprecating moment after another.

Man: "He's a good date!"
Johnny: She brought it! It was her idea.
Man: I've been there, on a park bench with my girlfriend and a cheap bottle.
Me: Hahahahahaha. (Swig)

The concert was so much fun. Like being at a Swedish prom. Other highlights included cheese, awkward conversational moments with strangers, and rocking out. Also, I was given a wristband because I look 16. I made a minor scene, but with good reason. I'm 20!!!

Now I'm going to Barbican Gallery to see Le Corbusier--The Art of Architecture. I'm excited!!

Deerhoof is my xanax

And Offend Maggie is my hot hot sex.