Note:
The entirety of the pictures can be
located in the sets here
and here.
• × • × • × •
12.23p
Wednesday
23 March 2005
Here. In Amsterdam. Everything is blowing my mind with its beauty. I was tired because I'd had such little sleep lately, but I want to wander around and draw things and look at everything and never stop!
Lots of stories already, but wanted to let anyone who checked here know that I'm here and safe and happy.
• × • × • × •
23 march
amsterdam
1pm
transcribed*
The weather is unbelievably beautiful and it has struck me with wonder over how incredible it is that we're here and over the things in my life that have brought me here and brought me to be so capable of appreciation—of the beauty of the water intermingled with the city—the startling differences—the startling samenesses. I'm already in love with Amsterdam even though we just met today.
*From a beautiful Moleskine notebook David gave me. It was absolutely ideal, bro.
• × • × • × •
24 march
amsterdam
4.30am
transcribed, messy
So thrilled with the idea of VACATION of being worry free and I haven't had that in so long.
But it --> (worrying) is a state of constance with me sometimes and I am searching out what it is in the world that I WANT OUT OF IT—and what life has to offer me if I want the most of it. I'm, somehow, already in love with that artist boy even though I know I've just met him and I have no comfort zone at all right now with how much he has the potential to hurt me and the will of circumstances to make me very upset and break the part of me that is SATISFIED with anything.
Three crushes? I told someone today that I always have AT LEAST three.
- Mike W OMG he makes me feel like I'm in my own magical romance.
- Jeff is so funny and adorable and so sweet and innocent that it's almost a good thing, but a thing I've never gotten to work with my temperment. :/
- Bonnie & Rob! Love them both so much. But But.
• × • × • × •
26
march
paris
5.17am
transcribed
I've just come outside to Marc's balcony in order to escape the snorchestra (must buy earplugs tomorrow) and all of Paris is laid out one hundred feet below me, and is just soft and quiet and enjoying the last bits of gooey darkness before the smoky Saturday morning rolls in. I'm looking fwd to going out on the streets in a few hours on a mission for croissants, cheese, milk, fruit, delicious sweet flaky pastries.
I love travelling even more than I thought I would. There have been several moments during which I felt on the brink of tears by the idea that I have wanted to be here in Paris since I was a little girl—I have dreamed about when it might come to fruition that I could wander the streets and parle en français tres beaucoup beaucoup—the language is familiar enough to me that it is constantly sparking all my neurons as I try to comprend and as I contemplate what phrases I might be capable of using to convey anything of meaning.
Right now, at least, I am on the edge of my seat with glee about the possibility that my office might be capable/interested in transferring me here for 6 months or a year. I plan on talking to someone at work the very first day I return.
On the itenerary since I last wrote:
—hurried out of our cute hostel in Amsterdam at 10a the morning of the 24th. They gave us an awesome (in that cool bike-ridin' hippie way) bag of bread and jam packets and hard-boiled eggs. I was absolutely starving enough to enjoy the fuck out of that shit as we hurried to...
—go immediately to the train station to attempt to get to Paris that afternoon. Some train worker strikes prevented us from getting the one we wanted, but 13€ got us on a super fast French train from Brussels. So we left Amsterdam a few hours early (forgoing shopping at sex shops, a possibly trippy canal tour, and one thing I had been greatly interested in: renting bikes that beautiful afternoon in that beautiful city. Perhaps we'll get to ride bikes later in the trip, possibly in the Italian countryside, but Amsterdam, which appeared to have had 100 times more bicycles than cars in the central downtown area, would have been exhilerating.)
—stopped in Brussels to change trains, take one or two pictures to prove that we were too in Belgium, have a quick lunch, and for me to buy myself the prettiest and longest stemmed rose I've ever seen. It was a silly 2€ to spend—the rose got destroyed two hours later in the Paris metro, but I usually enjoy my life more when I give in to my more frivolous urges.
—met up quite quickly with Marc upon arrival in Paris (as we stepped out of the Gare du Nord onto la rue de la Fayette I swear I almost had my heart burst with love for the world that there existed such huge bustling French beauty in it, much less all around me). He's been fabulous—taking us all into his cozy apartment in the goddamn MIDDLE OF PARIS—helping us find a delicious restaurant last night & sharing cheese fondue with me, talking in his native tongue for us when I clam up for fear or when the discussion is extraordinarily complicated—like this morning when we realized that getting to Barcelona tonight wouldn't be easy—it's Easter and we had not yet booked any reservations. [Edited to add: additionally, it was the last weekend the pope would be alive, and going south meant going towards all that Catholicism.] Luckily, we have a couchette for tomorrow night and will still (hopefully) be able to rock the party all night long in Barcelona on a Sunday.
—went out Thursday night with two bouttles du vin and sat on the Seine, watching the lights in the water, gawking from afar at the Louvre and the Notre Dame (I could not look at the Notre Dame and the beauty of the water all around it without my jaw dropping). On the agenda for today: sit by the Seine and draw. Visit the inside of the Notre Dame briefly—surely sweet Lena would be interested in joining me for that parce que "churches make [her] hot." Maybe buying Bonnie some lacy French underwear if I see some I think she might like. Maybe buy Mike W and/or my mom some type of pretty French art supplies, like gorgeous watercolor paper. Maybe buy Becky something cute with something en français on it. Buying stamps for postcards. Wearing comfy shoes. (The Via Spigas make me feel beautiful, but I should never ever wear them on a walking-full day again, only for a few hours of walking at night when we go out for madness.) Perhaps—if there is enough time before our train to Barcelona at eight pm, one museum. My choice would be d'Orsay, but if Elena is really interested in the Louvre ou le Centre Pompidou je sais que je veux (want?) aller avec lui parce que Elena est très bien! Être avec lui a un musee est belle parce qu'elle a les yeux bonnes.
[probably awful french. Need a better word to convey "cool" than bien. To be with her in a museum is beautiful—wanted to say "fun," but can't remember how to say it—because she has good eyes. Like an artist!]
The sun is fully up now and I think I shall do my nails. I wonder if there is anywhere nearby where I could go to get my nails done??!
Hopefully I shall fill in some of the details of what we've done in here while we spend twelve hours overnight tonight on the way to SPAIN!
• × • × • × •
26 march
paris
about 3p
transcribed
Christian Jaccard
—fire, burnt
paper
Gerhard Richter
—Juin
n°527
Hans Bellmer
—La Poupée
• × • × • × •
27 march
almost to barcelona
about
8a
transcribed
I've been hesitating to begin trying to record anything since I woke up about 30min ago because I am so enjoying watching Spain pass by.
• × • × • × •
27 march
barcelona
about
9a
transcribed
Sitting in the METRO underneath Barcelona and now we're speeding 6 stops towards our hostel—Spanish music, people, SOON SPANISH FOOD!
• × • × • × •
27 march
barcelona
6pm
transcribed
About to take my siesta and the sounds of laughing and bustling about the square our hostel looks down upon THRILL ME. It is not beautiful in the magnificent and grandiose way Paris is, but it is fabulously laid back and happy.
My own happiness is so annoyingly unfazeably consistent though that I sometimes don't need encouragement like that—I need the challenge that French people give me. I love the South and how people are so friendly that they smile at you on the streets, but after a day, I started to fall in love with how unexpected it was for me to do that in Paris and how it brought out a genuine and surprised gladness in people. I liked how it made me feel happier myself.
The other language thing definitely requires further contemplation.
Hand is tired—must powersleep before party party SOON.
• × • × • × •
28
march
barcelona
11a
transcribed
Have yet to sleep for the evening, due to fabulous amazing beauty all around me, everywhere.
• × • × • × •
about 3p
Monday
28 March 2005
Biggest news: I am absolutely set on moving to Paris within the next two years. I have to start figuring logistics details out NOW, but I have good feelings about my abilities to make it work. I loved Paris with a spot so deep inside me that I didn't know it existed, and though that sounds shittily cliche teenage poet (eh, sorry), it feels delicious and true. I have many many many pages on handwritten journal that I may transcribe upon my return to the stupid USA, but here is one that starts to explain one of the many many things that I deeply adore about being in Paris:
There have been several moments during which I felt on the verge of tears by the idea that I have wanted to be here in Paris since I was a little girl; I have dreamed about when it might come to fruition that I could wander the streets and parle en francais tres beaucoup beaucoup—the language is familiar enough to me that it is constantly sparking all my neurons as I try to comprend and as I contemplate what phrass I might be capable of using to convey anything of meaning.
Bonnie said this about me a few months ago, and I think it might be the most exhilerating compliment I can think of for someone to have given me:
One of the things that I love about Marilyn is that she is the ultimate hedonist. She loves the taste of exotic food, a good foot rub, a soft, sensual kiss, music, dessert before dinner, the feel of something soft on her skin, and spicy bloody marys. Now, I know all of you are thinking, I like those things, too. But, Marilyn REALLY, REALLY loves these things, and will enjoy them with a reckless abandon that makes you happy to share with her. Plus, she's an adorably cute, super-cool artsy chick. :)
Oui, oui, j'adore Bonnie aussi; elle est tres tres bien. But I just wanted to throw this quotation up because I was thinking about it when I went to lunch my byself today to a gorgeous Spanish restaurant and watched people in the square and talked a small amount with a four-year-old boy who spoke only francais, and drank two cool and smooth and sweet and wonderful glasses of Spanish wine.
Muy muy muy bien.
• × • × • × •
30
march
barcelona
2p
transcribed
Last night in barcelona tonight—though I have loved every place, barcelona has broken me with its ability to bring out the best and worst in my social capacites and my cravings for meaningful moments and experiences.
• × • × • × •
31
march
barcelona
1.36p
transcribed
Last moments at Kabul. Lena & I feel like it's the last day of summer camp, I almost cry with my good-bye hug to Angela. So much more about the people than the place. It is sad.
• × • × • × •
31
march
barcelona
7p
transcribed
Kinda satisfied and kinda horrified by the entirety of my Barcelona experiences. Reeling mostly from lack of sleep, I think. And from an overflow and a dearth of meaningful human contact, somehow.
• × • × • × •
4 april
paris
12.51p
transcribed
Gericault sketches
Joachim Wtewael
Andromache
Jean Baptiste PERRONNEAU
Madame de Sorquainville
• × • × • × •
5 april
paris
12.50p
transcribed
Alfred Stevens
Le bain
Henri Fantin-Latour
etude d'après nature ou etude de
femme nue
Alexandre Schoenewerk
La jeune Tarentine (d'après le poeme d'Andre Chenier)
Un vaisseaula portait dux bords de camarine: la, l'hymen, les chansons, les flûtes, lentement devaient la reconduire au seuil de son amant.
• × • × • × •
5 april
paris
6.10p
transcribed
At Montmartre with sparkly beautiful weather and too many thoughts of frustration and delusions of grandeur and aspirations that will likely fill me with more of those thoughts of frustration with the world and myself and people—those that I like AND those that I don't. I'm so so sick of the tendancy in people to let eachother down; and to let themselves down.
The sun is setting on Paris & on this trip & I'm more excited about returning to my life and making it better than I am sad about leaving my fabulous vacation, though certainly that is sad and scary—scary mostly, because I do not know when I'll be able to return.
• × • × • × •
6 april
over the atlantic ocean
sometime in
the afternoon
transcribed
Almost to Philadelphia and with many things to be excited about in my usual boring life, many things to still be reeling about in many directions as a result of the last two weeks.
I haven't recounted much in this past week and there are unbearably few pictures; I feel like I will remember this whole trip as an absurd scramble, but certainly there are people and things I will always remember well.
A fabulous day and night with Patrick in Barcelona after an absolutely horrific nightmare of a night that I barely want to remember. But hangin w Lucie and riding the Ferrari down the rainy boardwalk and getting into the Mediterranean w my green cableknit sweater on top and nothing but my tiny string bikini on bottom and swerving back to Kabul through tiny alleys and ALMOST wiping out, but he caught me. The pepe club and emy the beautiful swedish girl. Wandering the marina alone, in my beautiful shoes, making myself inhumanly lonely and sad and confused about my potential to find someone who will satisfy my dreams and ambitions for love—and then coming upon Tim and Sergio having a white tablecloth lunch and wearing their stellar suits and treating me like a movie star, which is basically all we have left of royalty anymore. I'm still thinking far too much about that silly Dutchman and his goofy grin—possibly my most successful coitus so far in this life, in that it was incredible and fabulous and yet no one got hurt or had to realize that they didn't really like the other. Or at least I hope not, of course.
Roma has some major unfortunates which I will decline to elaborate upon, in the hope that I will forget them. We did have numerous fabulous meals (everywhere everywhere) and enjoy one incredible day culminating in a stroll along the park at the top of the Spanish steps, looking over the massive bulk of this amazing feat of humanity: to have created a city that has been growing and declining, evolving and devolving, but with all these consistencies through the ages for thousands of years and millions of people's lives.
The last few days in Paris were a whirlwind of good and wine and art, and it was inspirational. I have such a deep desire to do SOMETHING of real meaning to someone—maybe many someones?—lately. I feel like I sometimes have an amazing power to influence people I know for the better, but surely everyone feels that sometimes and wishes for the ability to touch more people with the things they think and feel. But happiness is so fucking powerful—real happiness is more powerful than any of those other break you down and spit you out emotions, but it gets such a bad rap due to so many people who can achieve it without thought. Some of happiness maybe even requires that bit of repression? But when you have no thoughts of repression and no thoughts of guilt and no thoughts of frustration for what is wrong with the world and the fucking people in it, and you just have appreciation for beauty and accomplishment and simple things that FUCK happen to be fabulous and fill you with satisfaction and awe, why why WHY should you force yourself to deny it?
There is no good reason, there is only a very common
inability for it, and a very common disdain for it. But
satisfying your own cravings for the joy in this world? is
goddamned
more people