Buy Me a Drink, Sing Me a Song

If it weren't for music & literature, I'd likely be a philistine. It's not that I dislike movies, contemporary art, fashion and the rest. I'll defend Robin Hood Men in Tights to the day I die, and the Sketches on Matches dude is awesome enough to shell out $20 for a sweet print hanging on my wall right now.

Yet for me, nothing exceeds mere entertainment value like books & music do. I think it's an intamcy factor. Even indie movies reach a massive audience, & watching them is usually a social activity. Contemporary art is out there, but much of the time isn't quite accessible to people (I know this is unfair to a huge branch of art & there are some Andy Warhol fans that are getting their panties in a twist, but cool out-your skinny jeans are too tight to properly untwist & you might get stuck that way). I think it's fair to say that if art neither entertains nor truly challenges a huge demographic of people, it won't feel accesible. (Mind your panties, this is only a journal).
Fashion isn't intimate because it's always on display. Or, one could argue that because it's such an expression of individuality, people are afraid of being criticized & don't do it up to the fullest. I'm pretty down with jeans & the Hanes T. Analyze at will, because I won't bother.

Anyway.

Less than 2 years ago, I was pretty intent on working in music journalism. I knew I loved everything about music, & have always been pretty confident in my writing. It made even more sense when I read this:

"When you played the album in your car, it had so much propulsion, it started the ignition and rolled down the windows all by itself." -Gavin Edwards for Rolling Stone on LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out"

This is the most accurate descriptions of the potential power of music I've ever encountered. Raw power, that is. There's also sugar power (see "90's pop." Turn it up high, bounce around, then crash).

There's also grace. "Heartbeats" by Jose Gonzales is graceful in a way that literature can't be. There's no sweetness or sentimentality to the song the way that literature must have to progress, poem or novel. "Heartbeats" is an intimate lullaby sung to no one. It's about the infinite back & forth of "We."

The other quote that I love about music is pretty long. It's actually a book--Songbook, by Nick Hornby. Nick Hornby is the perfect person to write a book about loving music because he has always committed to writing in the simplest, plainest language he can. He is openly determined to make his writing accessible to everyone.

It's obvious intimacy has a tremendous amount to do with our relationships with music. "It's like he was singing to/about me." Lyrical intimacy never fails to excite. Clever lyrics that intruige people and become words they wish they wrote.. lyrics that tag around with you in your head all day.. I think intimacy is why indie music became so popular in the last few years. Besides the element of "I heard them first!" (& besides radio trash backlash), non-mainstream bands provide the intimacy of rooting for just a collection of dudes (or Pipettes, as it may be). And of course, the least intimate thing is being harassed with remixed renditions of "American Girl" while you shop for hoodies or milk (or anything. Sorry Sir Petty).

Anyway, here's to the next "car power" song. Slaandjivaa!

Creta (a Study Break Time Jump)

For spring break (part I), I spent a weeklong jaunt around Crete with some properly hilarious friends. Some of my favorite photographs of the semester were taken on this Greek Island. Tali, Hila and Marissa, (and Juanes) I raise my raki to you--for the fun and photos, Yasu!

A few stories..
We rented a car from the resort we were staying in on the NE coast. We drove to various places including the capital, Heraklion & the famous caves on Matala beach in which a hippie settlement lived for 2 decades. American singers like Joni Mitchell lived in them for a few months in the '70's & wrote some pretty famous songs there.
The photo above was taken on bathroom break in a "town" on our drive across the island to the south coast & Matala. The goat was tied to pole, & for some reason I was the only member of the party it wouldn't let get near it. We paced two circles eyeing eachother until this photo was taken.

Contrast is so satisfying. Anyone who lives with climate change knows the delicious feeling of snuggling up in layers, only to have some skin peek out into the cold. That bench was a few yards from a baby cliff that was absorbing the sun like a natural solar panel, & after a lot of raki (Greek wine/vodka), a nap was in order. A sun warmed hoodie has never felt so cozy, & the Mediterranean crosswinds provided the contrast.







Smoking hookah in the Mediterranean,
and somehow I was cold.
Props to the tobacco flavor
combo master Hilabilla.
















No need to talk about Greecian scenery, it's beauty is a given. Moving from New York to Prague was spatially freeing--from one major city to another, you don't realize the absence of a skyline (with a sky) in New York until you leave tightly packed skyscrapers.

Crete was freeing because it was spatially free in all direction. As often as not, the horizon dropped out of sigh with a cliff. On our last night with the car, we stopped again and again just to look at the sights and feel the openness. I was taking a picture of Hila on Tomas (our dinky rental car). It didn't turn out as well as Tali's shot here.

Anyway, I'm between exams & being pressured by my family to think of what I want for Christmas...there's some stuff I "need" but the only thing I can think of that I want, and I want it achingly so, is double spring break across Europe again.

Yasu, slanjivaa, l'chiam, cheers!

So Praha Went Quickly...

Ok..It's finals week. Of first semester junior year.
So I wrote one blog while I was in Praha, BUT I kept a pretty intricate travel journal up through most of spring break. Ask to borrow it sometime, you may have a starring role in my thoughts regardless of what country you were in throughout the spring of 2007. If you're reading this, it's not only possible but likely.

The idea of summarizing huge blocks of time (like a semester) in 1 or 2 paragraphs usually irks the hell out of me--but I want to write something short enough you'll want to read about it. Yet I'm in loourve with details and small incidences and it feels demeaning. I'm an NYU student--one of thousands, so larger picture details like playing soccer or being an econ major/physics minor aren't interesting or unique. But Oh! The Places I'll Go! Miniadventures are...lost my train of thought because the Spice Girls came on the Victoria's Secret fashion show.
Ah yes. I hate the idea of summarizing an entire semester in a few short paragraphs, but I actually think this time around I can fit it into one. It wasn't that nothing happened, it's that a few things and people were major players on repeat.

I went back to school early, still August. The ever-dreaded soccer preseason. No longer banished from the roster, I kind of felt that little kid giddiness everytime a ball was in front of me ('RUN! KICK! Goooo THERE!') This is my team winning the Skidmore Invitational:


It was still August when I ran into..an attractive someone I used to barely know. We needed name refreshers when we ran into each other, but we caught up pretty quickly (somewhere, Brian is mumbling in his sleep "Yeah ya did!")

Classes have been tedious. Essentially, I've spent this semester trying to learn how to take tests instead of spending time learning what I want to be. "Professor!" I shriek in my head, "If we just had a 20 minute conversation about the material, I clearly understand international economics. The thing is, if you don't tell me to draw a graph for full credit, I don't think it's fair that I only get two points out of 10." Academia certainly isn't what it used to be (I assume). Turns out I'm pretty spectacular at law related coursework, which is encouraging. Who thinks I should be a lawyer?

And that's it. I wasn't bored this semester--far from it. My activity time was spent playing soccer, going to class, and generally being a college student.



My thinking time was monopolized by heartsickness. God, how long can you stay heartsick? Do you think any old people that are heartbroken started as 20 year olds that were heartsick and the diagnosis just changed? Like, 'Wow, this chart still says sick? It's been 40 years...I can't fix this, this shit is broken. UPDATE: Heartbroken.'
Oh, also, I stopped speaking with my mom. This is a good thing. Life has been...approachable.

Studying time.

1+ Week Post Arrival in Cz

To describe orientation week as as whirlwind would be inaccurate in that it insists a sort of tasmanian devil energy upon everything we were involved in. We were always doing something, to be sure, but at no point did I feel overwhelmingly busy.

We fumbled about in Czech language class everyday for vowels that didn't exist. We wandered about with tour guides, looking up with slack jaws at the cathedrals, clock towers, and "regular" buildings that met the skyline with varying degrees of splendor and gilding. Many students at NYU in Prague celebrate the slightest encounters in which they are not explicitly recognized as American.
"I ordered a hot dog today, and the guy asked me in Czech if I wanted ketchup!," one boy said of an exchange in which it's entirely possible the celebrated question was simply "kecup?"

During those first few days, though, it was permissible to be blatantly Americhanka. We were alternately led and wandered through the cobblestone streets, being too loud, too publicly happy, pointing and then quickly bringing our hands back down to our bags to guard from the pickpockets we knew our curious and loud babbling invited.

The days were packed, but they were far from frantic. Transitioning from activity to activity on public transportation that was ridden in silence (until we got on) kept the orientation week experience from being a jarring one. The silent tram rides made me realize this--people are curious. Moreover, they need to keep busy. In the US, the easiest and laziest way to keep your brain distracted is to talk, and thus you hear "aimless" conversations. Gab is everywhere, people talking about nothing and promting equally unnecessary replies ("It's cold out." "Yes. Yes, it is.").

In Prague, you're supposed to be silent. Tram and metro riders shut off the gab part of their brain, so how do they distract themselves? Thus far, I've seen only one crossword puzzle on the tram. Notebooks and novels aren't uncommon, but they remain the exception. Instead, people express their curiosity by staring. Loud Americahnkas certainly beg attention, but Czechs also stare at each other. Tram and metro riders will stare at you as long as they please, and then also have their glance claim whatever space you averted your eyes to. The eye contact has never seemed hostile to me, but sometimes feels so permeating I have strongly considered sheepishly explaining why I was wearing Wednesday underwear on a Monday.

And so, I spent a good portion of the week feeling a bit unbalanced. For a culture so quietly reserved and private, I felt alternately isolated and crowded. I may understand why--I am not just a student at NYU in Prague, I am an NYU student studying in Prague. I move from class to class within the hustled flow of the streets of Manhattan. Other than halting completely and leering at the sky directly above me, I never really see the skyline. Furthermore, even on 2-way streets as "open" as Broadway, I can always feel the height of the buildings in my periphery. I came to this realization outside of the American Embassy in Prague. This girthy stone building feels massively heavy to stand next to. The thick wooden doors are the kind that would demand am impressive tree trunk and many soldiers in full armor to blast through, and yet attached to the rest of the building they appear light.
We came upon this building such that we turned a corner and suddenly it was on our left. Immediately we could see this ornate mountain would continue to be everything on our left, including the horizon and skyline, for the distance of about 2 city blocks. Yet straight ahead the only potnetial intrusion upon my personal space was a spindly tree, 100 meters away. To the right was a cobblestone parking lot, arranged in seamlessly alternating geometric patterns and shades of grey. The cobblestone ended quickly, and dropped off into an abrupt hill. To our left the stone giant hid us from the sun and crowded our shoulders, and to the right the evenly gray horizon met the dappled gray of the cobbles. In Prague, it is not unusual to walk through an arched passageway so low that an uprooted cobblestone will cause you to bump your head, and then suddenly step out into a massive square open to the sky.

My realization was this--in New York, the invasion of personal space is constant and the perpetrators are both the buildings and the people that bump into you on the street, grab you inappropriately in a club, and cut you off for a cab. In Prague, the height and composition of buildings and width of streets is remarkably inconsistent. Additionally, Prague simply is not as crowded as New York. Thus, in addition to the more reserved cultural elements carried on from the communist period here, an invasion of physical personal space is all the more less acceptable. But what if this is why it is alright to invade personal space by staring? In New York, if you catch someone staring you can let them know by making eye contact, and they usually look away. If they don't, it can be interpreted as an act of agression or even a sexual advance. It may be typically American of me to quote a movie, but I am reminded of the narration in Crash:

"It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. [Here], nobody touches you... I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."

All this staring is a little bit less dramatic than crashing into people, but it's a theory that makes a learned act of agression less uncomfortable. It's nice to think that people like to stay connected to eachother regardless of lattitude and longitude.

Well, that's my catch-up for orientation week. I bought a soccer ball at Tesco yesterday and got some looks dribbling it on the way home. I wonder whether it was more of an oddity to see someone running along the street, or a girl with a soccerball.

Also, a section I hope to contribute to regularly:
Czech and American Innovations: who should adopt what?

-Metro "open" door buttons: the doors on the Metro (subway) do not open at every stop unless prompted by a small sensory button on each door. How many people in NY would run full speed at a closed door, just so they might make their train at Penn Station? They'd have to slow up at least a few yards before, and the ACE graveyard would receive less briefcase/arm/leg casualties
-Streetlights: before changing from red to green in the CZ, a warning is giving as the light is simultaneously red and yellow.
-Fireescapes: If you ever walk around SoHo in NY, you'll notice tourists taking an endless number of pictures of the ugliest sootiest buildings around. This is because there is not a single fireescape to be seen in Europe. Be kind to these tourists, and they may do the same as you take pictures of the ornate house markings that are equally insignificant to them.

Writing What is & is Proposed

I'll just be experimenting for a bit to see how this looks and establish my preferences.

The idea is to try and write quite a bit while I am in Prague. I haven't written letters/in a journal to BJ since I believe jr. year of HS, & reading about things that got me in a tizzy then helps me carry myself better now. I believe this is what may be brushed off as "gaining perspective."

Also, I'll be writing these in journal form to BJ. Simple habit and adoration I suppose.

10 days until takeoff, 11 days until arrival. With a 6 hr stopover in Cophenhagen, there may yet be another post before Praha.

Proposed itinerary:
1)2 Near death experiences-
(Note: Risk only has to be perceived, not nec. real or realized. Also, activities such as bungee jumping and skydiving excluded, on the basis that if you actually think you are going to die, you should have spent more than $40 for the rubber band around your ankles or picnic tarp on your back.)

2)Make friends with pickpockets-
People I have spoken to about Prague immediately warn me about the pickpockets of the bridge. I will write a note offering compensation for pickpocketing lessons that I will tape to some money that will stick out of my pocket. The only problem I see is that I absolutely hate being touched and am dreading being brushed up against when it is grabbed.

3)Be a stereotypical teenager-
Why? Well, why not? I don't think that's a proper answer. Ask me again. (Why?) Because, if I make it a goal then I get the satisfaction of crossing something off a to do list AND the satisfaction of these stereotypical teenage experiences. It's like double jeopardy, except excellent.

4)Map a lot of secret passages in Prague's castles-
The castels are old. And if the passages don't exist, the proposed map will become a blueprint of possibilities I will submit to the Czech govt. before I depart at the end of the semester.

10 days.